Friday, August 12, 2011

Flashback Friday: Tennessee Waltz

We knew we would one day make our way make to Tennessee, come hell or high water.  I'm not sure it was the antebellum homes, the sweet tea or the seersucker, but I knew in my bones that Tennessee was where I belonged. 

Planning my wedding there was a no brainer.  We dragged my photographer and our wedding party around downtown Knoxville so that I could get a picture in front of the Tennessee Theatre.  We marched back and forth across traffic making sure we got a decent image.  Getting the money shot was more about creating an illusion than a romantic moment of meaning.  I suppose that's how I was able to take an iconic wedding portrait and ignore the bag of trash sitting on the curb. 

Well, I've been fantasizing about calling myself a Tennessean for years.  I've finally accomplished that feat and yet, I sit here dwelling on the trash bags and not the big picture.  I notice the traffic and the temperatures and the insects the size of my fist.  I don't take the time to notice the friendly people or the magnolia blossoms still going strong in mid-August.

However, I was able to leave house on time today and decided to take the side roads to work. I passed cows, rolling pastures, red barns and large estate homes. I started to wonder if I had gone way too far south, so I turned left, hoping I’d find my way to the office. The road twisted and turned through the hills, so steep my ears were even popping.  I turned the bend and saw the rising sun peak through the hills.  It was simply stunning. It certainly didn’t hurt that every song on the radio was fantastic too (Go download yourselves some Pistol Annie’s!).

Then, when I got to my desk I heard  a guitar playing from down the hall.  A teenager had parked himself in our lobby while his father was in a meeting.  This kid was good.  He played a little Johnny Cash and even Pachebel. 

Now this is why I moved to Tennessee!

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