A Lyrical Jaunt

        I am back with the Trophy Wife from a jaunt to the lands of country sunshine and the Delta blues with the wedding of a former pretty good little league player in the mix.

        The Nashville Skyline is subdued in the good times, but downtown and the new and plastic Opryland recently flooded the music lived between Third and Fifth Streets.  The old Grand Ole Opry building Ryman Hall was open for a live radio broadcast/concert which was a whole lot of old white folks listening to what sounded good, but fundamentally nostalgic.  An expert told me later that the Whites who we saw are quite well known.

       Off the interstate the slow road to Memphis leads through the Bible Belt, with four churches in each small hamlet and “Jesus” signs on many, many lawns.  They are different from us.

       Graceland is on the long route into town, almost to the Mississippi line.   It fulfills every imagining of kitsch including a real life Heartbreak Hotel, but it recalls for us just how much and how good Elvis was, and how revolutionary.  A white guy sings black music and the world is not the same.  A talented kid, modest,– what was all the ruckus about?  At Graceland they gloss over the end, but that seemed correct in the context.

      “Walking in Memphis with my feet ten feet off of Beale” the music was no  more country sunshine but blues blaring from every door.  Entry onto a beer soaked Beale Street on Friday night is by police frisking everyone which seemed somehow appropriate, and a drunk hit on the Trophy Wife, making me proud indeed.  Cacophonous, raucous, more fun than whatever else I would be doing.

       Which brings me to the elegance of the wedding.  I can testify that I have seen a black lady with blond hair singing Hebrew while Chinese people do the hora.  I am too old to see these things and had an uncustomary second drink, but I can die happy – I’ve seen it all!!