the pilgrimage

I found myself in Nashville earlier this week. Waking up my first morning there, like a bolt of lightning, I knew I had to go to June Carter Cash & Johnny Cash's grave site. So, hubby & I took off in search of Hendersonville Memory Gardens speeding out Hwy 386. When in Tennessee, you'd better speed or you'll be run over. We passed the exit, but figured that out easy enough. And coming in from the other direction led us past the closed-to-the-public House of Cash. We found the cemetery, which is actually sorta small. It didn't take long to find their graves either. It was a surprisingly warm day for early November, with blue skies and fine, wispy clouds. I found myself feeling a little tenderhearted standing over the last earthly remains of the Man Who Walked the Line and his Wildwood Flower.

We then drove into downtown Nashville for lunch and to wander up & down Broadway's honky tonks and souvenir stores and Ernest Tubb's record store and, heaven have mercy on me, Gruhn's Guitars. If I lived in Nashville, they might quickly grow tired of seeing me in that store, just sitting and admiring all the lovely, lovely instruments. Maybe they'd give me a job, hmmm ..... Our last homage to downtown was a quick picture of me sitting on the steps of the Ryman Theater, home of the Grand Ol' Opry for about 30 yrs. We had thought to hit the Country Music Hall of Fame, but opted instead for a nap. (just saying that makes me chuckle ...)

Leaving Nashville yesterday, at an 85 mph clip, I had both Johnny Cash's and June Carter Cash's last original CDs in the 6 disc player. Really loud. Virgins were trimming their wicks and I was walking that lonesome valley all by myself. 'Cause ain't nobody here can walk it for you.