I grew up in Nashville, Tennessee. A small town back then – “Music City, USA,” and “The Athens of the South.” Opryland – and a church on every corner. Separate communities on different sides of the river. Good Ole Boy politicians from long-established families.
Home Sweet Home to me.
Now Nashville is the “It City.” There can’t be many of us native Nashvillians left in Nashville anymore. Everyone wants to be here (for various reasons), and with all those people come big buildings, more traffic, new jobs, LOTS of houses, and so many restaurants that you could eat somewhere new every day and not repeat any meals for at least a year.
If this is a problem, it is a good one to have. It beats empty storefronts, abandoned houses, and a downturned economy any day.
Still… I get lost in my hometown sometimes. Streets are unfamiliar, place names don’t ring a bell, and changes continue like waves towards the shore.
A recent conversation with a friend revealed that he is one of the many who are tearing down the old, small houses in established neighborhoods and replacing them with two (or more) giant, side-by-side shotgun mansions (on the same lot as the one before). And they are bringing astronomical prices. I really like this guy, and I am truly happy for his success. But I hate what he is doing to our town.
Last summer I drove through a familiar area of Nashville, one with well-kept homes surrounded by rolling yards, with home values that are measured by good schools and long time neighbors, as well as bidding wars on their high prices when they have to be sold. I was tickled to see a once-familiar sight:
If that fence could somehow tell what it has witnessed through the years!
Simplicity and resiliency – speaking to me about where we have been, and what is still valued today.