Top Photo: Thomas Hart Benton, “The Sources of Country Music,” the Country Music Hall of Fame, Nashville

I love Tennessee. When I started traveling in the motorhome I returned to some of my favorite spots in The Volunteer State, like Memphis and Chattanooga, and discovered places new to me, like Knoxville, The Great Smoky Mountains, Lynchburg, and Shiloh.

In four and a half years on the road, I somehow kept missing Nashville. A couple of years ago I came close at Loretta Lynn’s campground in Hurricane Mills, about an hour away. So, it was about time for a visit, especially since the last time I was there was in 2000, with my friend Bill. Back then we saw Loretta Lynn at the Grand Ole Opry at Opryland (a cherished memory),

visited the Country Music Hall of Fame, walked down Broadway and Music Row, and other stuff I honestly don’t remember now. Oh, yeah – we did a daytime tour of Ryman Auditorium.

This time I stayed in Goodlettsville at the Grand Ole RV Resort, a 20-minute drive to downtown Nashville. I had been keeping an eye on the weather while in Kentucky and knew I was going to have to hunker down somewhere for the freeze that was about to envelop most of the United States, and Goodlettsville was as good a place as any.

For a few days nighttime temperatures were in the teens, and it did not get above freezing during the day.

When I struck out in the online ticket lottery, I planned to line up outside the Bluebird Café, but thought better of it when the temperature dipped to 17 degrees! The CMA awards were held the week I was in town, but exorbitant prices for last-minute tickets kept me from attending inside, and the temps kept me from celebrity spotting outside.

When you return to a place you haven’t visited in 19 years, it’s almost like you’ve never been there at all. At least that was my experience in Nashville. The Country Music Hall of Fame moved,

and there are now small museums downtown dedicated to Johnny Cash,

Patsy Cline,

and George Jones.

I barely recognized the renovated entrance to the old Ryman Auditorium, the Mother Church of Country Music – original home of The Grand Ole Opry. The Opry has mustered the good sense to hold broadcasts there again.

I saw Opry legends Whispering Bill Anderson and Jeannie Seely on the night I attended; having just watched them both in the Ken Burns ”Country Music” documentary, it was great to see them live.

Brand new in 2019, Ray Stevens has opened the CabaRay outside the downtown core, and his show was a highlight of my trip.

Ray was inducted in the Country Music Hall of Fame this year, at 80 years of age. As a kid in the 1970’s I always perked up when his songs came on the radio, like “The Streak” and “The Shriner’s Convention.” It’s good to know some things never change, like his cornball sense of humor, facial expressions, and herky-jerky movements when he’s in character.

I heard that after the show he often joins the piano player in the bar, so I pulled up a stool and wasn’t disappointed.

I shook his hand and introduced myself, telling him that I am a lover and singer of jazz, but whenever the song “Misty“ comes to mind, his version (a Grammy winner) is the one I hear first. That made him smile.

Another huge highlight occurred the first night I was in town – “Cash Fest” At War Memorial Auditorium – where a parade of artists performed Johnny Cash covers for charity.

I got a seat in the balcony front row, marveling that I got to see so much talent for a mere $41.

I paid my respects to Johnny and June and members of the Carter Family at Hendersonville Memorial Gardens,

and to George Jones,

Tammy Wynette,

and other country greats at Woodlawn Cemetery in Nashville.

Taking a break from all things country music, I girded my intellectual loins and was fully prepared to dislike the tour of Andrew Jackson’s Hermitage.

As it turns out, an inclusive story is being told at the Hermitage, and even in the introductory film scholars describe “grappling” with Jackson’s legacy. Bravo!

I adore picturesque small towns, and the 45-minute drive to Franklin was worth it.

The town was decked out for fall, and the streets were full of families and shoppers on a crisp mid-November day.

I really enjoyed my eight days back in Nashville. However, I won’t miss those $25 parking fees downtown!