Sunday, January 15, 2017

Day 48 Cookie Jar Sweet Memories!


Day 48

 

Cock-of-the-walk flying cornbread

and Opryland Hotel

 

Ah! Sweet Nashville! My birthplace! Home of the Grand Ole Opry! And, my relatives.

Three or four times a year we loaded up the old Ford and headed South. On to the old frontier for good times, fun, surprise events and adventure. Never a dull moment---No!...Never! For me!

Life is, indeed, what you make it! Amen! People are bored and lonely---not meNever!

Simple! Humble ! Me. Maybe I’m dull? Maybe? But, I am never bored or lonely. Uh! Uhn!

Through yonder window light an awesome world beckons; a panorama vista---for…me!

I’ll take the dawn grey, mid-morning shower, high noon sun, afternoon warm, evening purple haze, nighttime respite, blue-white diamond studded midnight black. Smell the dank aroma of a pristine forest floor, spy the surface “break” as a slight swirl where the big red-ear male sunfish stands sentinel over the spawning bed, count the diamond glistens on a lake’s white waves, watch the squirrel endeavor storing winter nuts, embrace with my eyes the beauty of yonder rose, smell nature’s sweetness, smile love into my heart at the sight of a child---kiss sacred life…”Hello!” It’s one grand adventure, life is, and, if it rains, I’ll dance between the raindrops and kiss the fresh result—life …is my passion! Nobody rains on my parade---not allowed. Amen.

Our Tennessee “vacations” live magic in this simple, humble memory. All great adventures.

I never met Elvis in person, but, that timber-tone blessed talent lifts this wretched spirit to celestial heights; a gladdened-heart embraces the offered sacred Grace of the Holy Spirit. Such tender intended Praise! Honor! Glory! fulfills my purpose, and eternal success, at Happiness!

So? My Nashville shines warm comfort and bright vistas in this aging memory. Thank You!

As I transcended the ages, sliding through one New Year after another, so matured my sacred Nashville-town. I spied “Skeeter” Davis one fine Saturday night at the Ryman Auditorium as she crooned “One Tin Soldier” into my yearning heart. Thanks! Skeeter! I still love you!

Picnics at Shelby Park, stick ball games with the Rebel cousins, Granny’s love and feasts.

“Cock-of-the-walk” is a restaurant near the new Opryland Hotel; we spent many an enjoyable dining experience on those premises and more than a few excursions in the grand hotel where daughter Beth celebrated her wedding reception after exchanging vows at the old brick church on the grounds of Andrew Jackson’s beloved Hermitage.  There was one elegant party. Fabulous!

The waiters at Cock-of-the-walk brought out huge white platters of fried fish and piping- hot southern cornbread in a cast iron skillet; they tossed the bread-delicacy into the air making it “flip” and caught it in the pan before it hit the floor---well… Most of the time! I always quickly offered the dropped confection to one of my guests! Nobody can ever accurately accuse me of being selfish and having to get the first bite! Bon Appetite!

All I ever lacked at the Cock-of-the-walk venue to make it a real extravaganza was a black leather western vest and a black Stetson with a silver jangle band, I reckon!

Yeah! “Cock”-of-the-walk!? Indeed!

 

Y’all might take the rebel, rascal, rogue out of the south---but…Well! Y’all already know!

 

Love you, Nashville! Forever!

 

Ah! Cookie Jar “Rebel” Memories! Amen!

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