24 Rainy Hours in Winston Salem

This has become somewhat of a tradition - we pick a place, mostly in warmer months - and try to fill 24 hours with something to do there. It’s usually close to home, somewhere where we could easily just go for the day, but we allow it more time, on purpose, so as not to be rushed and to give it some space. When you’re not rushed by a schedule you can take as little or as much time as you need to really savor a place, a food, an experience. 

Great message for a 24-hour getaway motto

This weekend the destination was Winston Salem, one of the three cities that make up the Southern North Carolina metropolitan region known as The Triad. I lived in another major city of the same area called Greensboro for 12 years. Winston Salem was always “too far” to really go explore, although it was closer to Greensboro then than it is to my home now, that I moved 50 miles East (in the opposite direction) from Greensboro. 

But browsing through a book a former coworker from The Greensboro News & Record wrote about Winston Salem (or “Winston” for short)  documenting the 100 Things to Do in Winston Salem Before You Die, we found the inspiration to make this city the 24 hour adventure this year. 

The city was clothed in fog and a dense and settled-in rain. It's the time of the year when streets are rich with blooms, from wild flowers and day lillies, to azaleas and every single magnolia tree are all in bloom.

We started at the historic Reynolda House, a renowned country estate that was founded by the tobacco tycoon R.J.Reynolds and his wife, Katherine, around 1926. The house is currently closed for renovations but the adjacent art museum is open. It was one of the most interesting museums I have ever visited, and a testament that you can find meaning and art and inspiration anywhere, not just in the most famous places. The interpretative and “layered looking” approach inspires as well as educates the visitor on how to look at art and how to find deeper meaning. Some pieces like Charles Burchfield’s The Woodpecker, Nam June Palk’s Leonardo Da Vinci or Louise Nevelson’s Full Moon will haunt me for a while. Long after I will have forgotten the artists’ names.  The history of the Reynolda House is also incredibly well-put together, giving it an easy to understand but complete account of the Reynolds family, pioneers in an industry but also inspirations in how they treated their people. 

The Reynolda House Museum and grounds

 

The Woodpecker, Leonardo da Vinci and Full moon (these shots do not do these pieces justice)

We drove around Reynolda Village, the former quarters of their staff and utility buildings, and now a lively shopping and restaurant district. The rain was thick when we left the museum so the streets were empty and the people from the few cars parked in the many parking lots around the property were indoors, sipping hot coffees and browsing books at The Bookstore. We also visited the Reynolda Conservatory which was a neatly put together greenhouse with exotic and native plants.

Inside the Reynolda Conservatory

To get a break from the total downpour outside, we made a lingering stop at The Penny Path Cafe & Crepe Shop (there is a real path made of pennies inside). This was easily the highlight of the trip for me. They accommodated my vegan needs and everything we had, from the decaf latte to the vegan and berry or the nutella crepes was simply delicious. An army of what looked like college kids ran the place and I felt like we have not gotten service as good as that in a really long time. 

The Reynolda Village Cafe & Crepe Shop

Sit at the bar for a full experience

The vintage decor and penny path at The Crepe Cafe

We tried to visit their next-door neighbor, The Graylyn Estate next, but they seemed to be closed for a private wedding. The grounds were even more impressive than The Reynolda House, so we promised to be back. 

The Graylyn Estate House and entrance

We then headed downtown, closer to our hotel. We stopped at the Milton Rhodes Center for Arts, a multi-purpose cultural campus for Winston Salem Arts. We only had 30 minutes before they closed, so we had to move fast, but it was enough time to love the originality and creativity of the arts made by the students of the Sawtooth School, an on-site art school. I was shocked at the versatility and imagination and creativity of these students who, allegedly, were just starting out on their art journeys. The building is an old former Hanes hosiery mill built in 1910 joined to an adjoining, vacated AC Delco auto-repair garage. I personally love when we humans learn to repurpose what is already here, rather than tear it down and build some other new thing which feels wasteful. 

The lobby at Milton Rhodes Center for the Arts

We then checked into our hotel, The Cardinal, a Kimpton Hotel. Having stayed at Kimpton Hotels before, we love their preference to make historic buildings a showpiece in a cozy and welcoming atmosphere. Their welcome cocktails and good-bye coffee bars seem to be their signature and it adds a familiar, welcoming gesture to the whole experience. 

The Cardinal Hotel in the former R.J. Reynolds office building

Elevators inside The Cardinal hotel

We had dinner  a couple of blocks up the street at Jeffrey Adams On Fourth, a modern American restaurant that prides itself for bringing the local ingredients to an upscale plate. I wish I could say go and try their blackberry bbq salmon dish which was outstanding, but it was the special that night so that might not be available all the time. 

The salmon special at Jeffrey Adams on Fourth: grilled salmon, blackberry bbq glaze, asparagus, mashed potatoes, scallops and pickled collards garnish

We had after-dinner cocktails at our own hotel bar which was hopping with guests and very lively for a Saturday night.

The next day, we started with breakfast at The Katherine, the French restaurant at our hotel. The Cardinal Continental breakfast of croissant, fresh fruit and apricot preserves was light and refreshing.

The Cardinal Continental at The Katherine

We noticed a break in the rainy weather which was originally forecasted throughout the weekend, so we made plans to venture out on more outdoorsy landmarks. We stopped briefly to take some shots at the Mickey Coffee Pot - a 7 ft, 11,840 gallon capacity tin coffee pot on Brookstown Avenue. It is said that the Mickey brothers, Julius and Samuel, built it in 1858 to promote their tin business at the time.

The Mickey Coffee Pot

Afterwards, we drove a ways to The Grant Park Quarry. Vulcan Materials Company mined rock out of the quarry for the first half of the 20th century and after the big hole filled up with ground water, they donated the area to the City of Winston Salem. The tall rocky walls around the almost perfectly round lake create a majestic and dramatic drop.  It is now a peaceful retreat where you can take in the lake and its birds, while admiring, on clear days, the city skyline, far away in the horizon. 

Panoramic view of the Quarry lake at Grant Park

The locks of love flank both sides of the railings on the observation deck above the Quarry lake

We made our way back to Downtown to stop for a short while at the Bookmarks bookstore - one of the more interesting indie, independent bookstores I have seen in a while. And after that, we stopped at Foothills Brewery next door for a small snack - some fried pickles (the garlic ranch dipping sauce is incredible!) and to taste a sampling flight of their beers. I have never absolutely loved all beers in a flight in any other brewery I have visited before. But I did at The Foothills! The pours were generous and I did not finish all of the samples, as otherwise, I would have needed a bed to sober up before heading back on the road and as great as they were, they did not provide accommodation. 

The Bookmarks bookstore, off of a back alley - like a well-kept secret

The getaway was a nice stop in our otherwise hectic life of moving from one to-do item to the next. My favorite stop was the Crepe Shop in Reynolda Village, and my husband’s was the Reynolda art museum. But all the stops were unique highlights in a packed 24 hour visit. 

The book that started it all...

We promised ourselves to be back. We want to dive more into the architecture of the city - from what we easily saw it was diverse and full of history, a nice display of various styles that reflect the rich past dating as far back as the birth of this nation, visit both Reynolda and Graylyn houses, and take in more of the cuisine of which we only sampled briefly this time around, but which did not disappoint.

I read about people dreaming of going some place and laying out by the pool, looking at the ocean while some tanned pool boy supplies the drinks to get away and relax, but I know I am not one of those people. I love to see, to learn, to experience and to find beauty, culture, or just another way of looking at the world on my trips. As long as health, time, and money will allow me, I will take to the road in search for the next lesson. Because that is all that these getaways are - lessons on life, people-ness, history, art, and everything that connects them. 

From Innocence to Now ...

My dear boy, 

I still remember the blog I wrote the day you were born, the day I became an aunt (https://wander-world.blogspot.com/2008/04/from-heart.html). I wrote it almost in one breath, that very day. I did not prepare for it, I did not dream about what I would write, I just did it. All my love, and awe, and wonder, and gratitude, and fears, they just came right out and poured onto the page. You were an empty page, but so full of possibilities. 

In contrast, I have been thinking long and hard about what I would say for your 18th (holy cow!) birthday - whether to you, or in a blog, or journal entry. Now, 18 years later, you are so far from the blank page you started on. You are becoming quite an accomplished little story. 

Some of the things I want to say are the usual, retrospective things, like the obvious: you have grown much, accomplished much, matured, changed, and found yourself in the process, through kicking, screaming, good times, and bad. You know the story. 

It is truly a daunting realization that you have pretty much grown up on this blog. From the moment you were born till now, you have been documented religiously somewhere on the internet, including here. It’s amazing to see how something as novel (to me, at the time I started writing here) as a blog has now lasted more than you’ve been alive. 

We each have and are a unique story. Just like the river carves its own way from the mountain to the ocean, you have carved your own singular path. Sometimes despite our wishes, sometimes in total outbursts of surprises on your part, sometimes totally guided by those around you, but always in your own original way, you have been able to find yourself and mold yourself into the young man you are today. 

Because this is such a milestone, the beginning of your adulthood, in fact, I have also been wondering how we are leaving this world to you. I’ll be honest, when I first look at the world we’re leaving behind for you, I find that we’ve let you down, in too many ways to count.

With a maturity beyond your years, you pointed that very thing out to us a year or so ago: we have left you a mess, at first glance, indeed, as you said.  Wars, and crooked politicians in every realm and in virtually every country, desperation about job cuts and losses, the need for education not a very well-argued asset (when the world seems to be measured in money, and  most rich people of the world are college drop-outs, what can you learn from that?!), a dirtier, more unsafe planet than what we found when we were your age, and so much more decrepitude ... 

But as you’ll find out on your own: where there is bad, there is also plenty of good. Our generation, I think, also did leave behind plenty of good too, things that I hope your generation will build upon, perfect and increase in value. 

We left you the most technological advancements ever produced in 50 years’ time, in the history of humanity; because of this technology, you can now learn things faster, travel faster, buy what you want faster, see your impact to anything you contribute to faster, and so on. 

We’ve left you the ability to express yourself for who you are; when we were growing up, we were not allowed to be who we were, we were censured and punished for our thoughts - you, luckily, know nothing of that. Identity awareness is something our generation fought hard for and you, I think, benefit from it largely - never take that for granted. Identity awareness and recognition is by no means done, either, but I believe it’s here to stay now, if your generation makes sure of that. 

Despite all the talk of divisiveness due to social media which was also ours to claim, we’ve left you a more connected world than ever - globalization (not necessarily a bad word) shows that no single action remains where it started and it now reverberates across the world. As you find yourself in the middle of an international family, you understand this better than anyone: we’re all connected, across the meridians and every action we take has effects everywhere in the world. This awareness has become common knowledge during my lifetime and we leave it with you to build only good things on it. 

We left you with many examples of entrepreneurship that allow you to dream and use the best of your skills to truly accomplish anything. You’re limited only by your imagination, and that, in your case, is limitless. Our generation busted the limitations of a degree and of traditional careers to encourage every person to succeed and survive from any business they dream up. We have been disruptors, in larger numbers than any time perhaps in history, and for what that’s worth this allows you to always think outside the patterns. 

Maybe we didn’t finish what we started in any of these areas. But the seeds of good potential are there. 

So, as much as I apologize for the mess we’re leaving, I am also hoping that the much good that we have also done is workable, and you can add to it and make it better. Make it perfect. I trust that you will at least try. 

As a family, we have given you everything - love, support, understanding, freedom to be who you are, and a healthy dose of cynicism which we hope prepares you for a prickly world out there. We hope. We tried to encourage more than scold, love more than accuse, and advise more than order you around. We showed you by example where your roots are and how you ended up who you are, but we were careful not to clip your wings, for they alone will carry you forward in the path you alone will choose. We hope we did good by you and that you find balance between all that we all contributed with and what you want. 

I am also remembering on this special day how hard it has been for you to find yourself and be the amazing human you are today despite all the odds thrown at you during your lifetime. You were the generation of the pandemic, and there were no rules on how to go through your most formative years (preteens and teens) without being with your friends, in person, for years. We, as your adult family, had no map for how to navigate that.

You were the generation of political fights, where lifetime friends and partners became bitter enemies and opponents, including the countries in which we both reside. You were the generation mind-driven by algorithms and bad actors. Again, we had no instructional manual for how to protect you from that. But you adapted and figured it out. If anything, we learned through you and from you how to navigate this new world. 

For you to figure out on your own how to build yourself through all this, is remarkable. You’re a hustler and a doer. You never accept “can’t” or “won’t” and you figure things out - and that is all you. You’re a disruptor in your own right - nevermind us trying to hold you to a pattern, you follow your instincts and despite all our denials or doubts you prove us that an alternative approach is not always bad ... We’ve learned from you as much as you’ve learned from us. 

I hope you feel the fire under your feet and you feel emboldened by what’s to come. Just know that today you not only get to be fully you, but today the world is ready to look at you as an important contributor to tomorrow - not quite an adult, but no longer a child either. The world will start listening. The voice you have been building is ready to be heard. 

Empathy is one of your true secret powers. I have seen through these years what a difference you’ve made in other people’s lives. You taught all of us what resilience and ambition mean. You have the biggest heart I know - the way you cared during your most difficult years for a dying friend brought me to my knees! How you somehow, from somewhere found the strength to be there for him, holding his hand, I do not know. 

The affection you so generously give to everyone around you is infectious: the glorious hugs and kisses you share freely with all of us, taking your mom out for meals and being her sidekick in making art or running, your generosity and big-heartedness is incredible and all natural, unforced, and untrained. 

The world is ready for you and your many gifts, and I hope you continue, as you gently let go of your childhood years, just like a new swimmer gently lets go of the side of the pool and starts floating on their own, to make bigger and bigger waves and build the life we all want for you, the life that I always wanted for you, starting on that fateful April morning when you were born, 18 years ago today. 

Just like on that first day, I am now hopeful, happy, excited, and waiting with baited breath on what you have in store for us. The future is yours to make! 

Happy birthday, sweet boy! And never forget: you will forever be my sweet boy. No amount of years will change that! I love you from the bottom of my heart, and beyond. 

Be well! Be safe! Be you! 

The State of Music

Tennessee is an elusive state for me. The first time I lived in North Carolina (for 12 years), I never so much as crossed the border into it. Not once. Not for 12 years. Then, my life took a detour through Utah and The West for 7 years (some people say “that was needed so that you can fix your heart”; I say it to myself “in more ways than one”), and I have been back for 8 years now and I have been to Tennessee twice. The call of the mountains, or of the music is strong this time. 

Crossing the border from NC and TN would only break your heart nowadays - the beautiful Smokies are still so very much damaged by Hurricane Helene which hit almost 2 years ago in September. The storms practically washed away the mighty Interstate 40 (that connects the West to the East Coast) into a huge ravine. And outside of one lane of traffic in each direction, most of the highway is still broken. It broke my heart. We seem to have no money to fix our own roads but find money for more destruction elsewhere ... Boggles my head! 

We went through The Volunteer State on our trip back from The West, in the fall of 2017. The magic of riding the Music Highway (the stretch of interstate 40 that connects Memphis to Nashville) has whispered to me ever since. In parts visibly poor, Tennessee is like an old country song - winding, mellow and going on forever ... 

Since dad passed in 2022, I have felt even a stronger connection to the music he loved and which he imparted with us all of his life. That music included a wide range of styles and performers, from Wilson Picket to Bob Dylan, from Elvis to The Beatles, The Rolling Stones to Willie Nelson, CCR and The Eagles. Going to Tennessee and listening to the music tales talks to you about all of it. And more. 

The Highwaymen: Waylon Jennings, Willie Nelson, Johnny Cash, and Kris Kristofferson

I found Nashville and Tennessee to be a place of many things and not one thing in particular ... We toured The Hatch Print Shop where many music legends have printed their concert posters since 1879 and we learned that Tennessee was, at the time, known for printing.

Entering The Hatch Show Print Shop, outside The Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum

Then, we toured the Belle Meade Mansion and we learned how it was the premier 19th-century thoroughbred horse farm - if you were anyone who was into racing horses and wanted English-bread racing horses in America, you came to Belle Meade Plantation in Tennessee. Even Kentucky people would come to Belle Meade for their horses. 

The Belle Meade Plantation House

Visiting the “fake Parthenon” construction (or to say it nicely, the “Parthenon replica” in Centennial Park), you learn that the reason they built it there was that Nashville was at one point considered “The Athens of the South” given that since the early 1800s, the city established many schools like Davidson Academy, Fisk University, Meharry Medical College, and Vanderbilt University. 

The Parthenon replica in Centennial Park, Nashville, TN

Athena's statue inside the "Parthenon"

As I said - a place of many things and not one thing in particular. Except, that is, for music. 

Music is what called our names to it this time, and music is what pops in my head when I say “Tennessee”. Elvis and Grand Ole Opry, in particular. But this is one trip that widened that limited spectrum. We found a place vibrating with anything from country to swing to rock’n’roll and pop. 

Looking back to this short trip (only 3 days), it is hard to pick a favorite adventure. 

The Country Music Museum and Hall of Fame was a bucket-list pick. I remember my first country vinyl record. Dad brought it to us back in Communist Romania when I was in highschool. Where he smuggled it from during a time when Western music was all but banned and the acquisition of which was punishable with jail, I will never know. I also can’t remember whether the original artists were playing it or if they were some bands doing covers on it. But I remember playing that thing till it was good and scratched after which it gave it that old-record scratchy sound ... I remember playing Yellow Rose of Texas and Oh, Susanna about 10,000 times a day. I believe those were some of the first songs I learned all the lyrics to in English. 

The Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum

And from then on, I have been irreparably in love with the country stories. There was no turning back ... There is no escape for a writer to not be trapped in the beauty of telling a whole-life story in just a few lyrics that might not even take a page. And that is what country music is for me ... It’s the stories that lodge this music securely into every corner of my heart. The strong, crystal-clear voices (and every single country singer has one, without exception) are second to the perfect stringing of the words. 

That old, scratched up vinyl record held the mystery of what America meant for me at the time, and to some degree this music still does. A country of people always cross with the world, who feel more than anyone can express, and live to tell the tale, despite all odds. And always, always come on top. So, I went to Nashville to try to find some of that mystery, some of that fairytale land that cooked up in my head since I was in ninth grade. 

To this day, I like the old timey, bluegrass, Americana songs. No disrespect to today’s million-dollar stars (and no disrespect to pop, either), but they poppified it too much for me. I wanna be able to pick out the banjo, and the fiddle, and the big-old bass, and the harmonica, and the accordion in the band, one droplet of sound at a time ... “It’s the dialogue between the instruments that makes the magic” dad used to say, “just listen how one talks to another and how the other one replies.” 

I have been to museums where they display statues, and cars, and trains, and paintings, and natural landscapes, and food, and drinks, even. I have never been nor would I have imagined that you can display music in-between 4 walls. But that is the Country Music Museum and the Johnny Cash Museum too ... Every physical display is only secondary to a central music-playing device (a TV, a radio, a computer) ... You walk the history lane of country music, from the early 19th century musicians who passed away in anonymity, playing on barn thresholds and deep, wide, wrap-around Southern porches and you end up with today’s younger artists.

We found out that the  “newly-inducted” artists in the Country Music Hall of Fame does not necessarily mean contemporary ones: I could not quite believe that June Carter Cash was inducted in the Hall of Fame only last year (2025), while her famous husband, Johnny, has been there since 1980, and she played music publicly a lot longer (by almost 20 years) than he did! The Country Music Hall of Fame is a little behind, I thought. 

Listening to this music reminded me why I wanted to be an American so bad. It’s the juice of what’s good in America - the grit, the strong feelings, the passions, the unrequited love and trouble with the law, and its survival despite the odds, the journeys coast to coast, the fearlessness against every challenge...

One thing that will stay with me both from the Country Music Museum and the Johnny Cash one (within walking distance from one another) is, in addition to the music playing constantly at every step, you could read so many of their hand-written letters. Like I said - country music is nothing if not stories first. And you can read those letters and you can see where it all started from. With Johnny, for instance, giving his daughters advice and them journaling about how hard and painful it was to be in the shadow of famous parents. 

If you are ever wondering what town you're in wandering the streets of Nashville, murals like this will remind you ...

After about a half day taking in and paying respect to the many artists in Country music (walking into the round room of the country music hall of fame members has a church-like, reverence quietness about it; it exudes awe and quiet respect) , we headed towards the Honky Tonk District, which I didn’t even know existed until shortly before we arrived to Nashville. It’s a funky mix of live music, “cheese”, Southern kitsch and an opportunity to gawk at drinking people having fun, having left all inhibitions at home, till your eyeballs hurt. 

The circular room of the Hall of Fame Museum

Taking in a new (to me) city, savoring its food and just strolling seemingly focusless, through its streets is my favorite kind of sightseeing ... Spending half of a day on the Honky Tonk highway, where every single establishment is an open bar with a live band, you realize you have indeed arrived in the capital of music. It reminded me of when I visited New Orleans for the first time in 2004: every bar, every pub, every restaurant and every street corner had a live performer. That was gone later, after Katrina and in the winter ... But on this trip, it felt like all that moved to Nashville ... 

The start of the Honk Tonk Highway, outside the Johnny Cash Museum

We had lunch at Lainey Wilson’s Bell Bottoms Up Restaurant & Bar, listening to new local talent playing on the stage, where the light fixtures above your head at the table are real cowboy hats. I had to stop there - I wore nothing but my dad’s old bell-bottom jeans from the 60s all through my college years, and I am sure those pants are still at my mom’s house in the attic somewhere... It had to be done. 

After walking around for a while and listening to live music thrown out from every window, passing by places like the Jon Bon Jovi’s Bar, Nudie’s Honky Tonk (highly recommend seeing the Nudie mobile exhibit at the Country Music Museum; talk about something truly American - wow!), Friends in Low Places Honky Tonk, we stopped for a drink at The Honky Tonk Central, with its three stories all with a different-style band (from country to hard rock). If you wanted to line dance with a pickin’ band, you stopped on the first floor. We climbed all the way to third to listen to rock cover songs and take in the entire district from the balcony. 

View from the third floor of the Honky Tonk Central

Detail of the Nudie Mobile

We had dinner just outside the Honky Tonk Highway, at The Diner - a Nashville staple in the SoBro (South of Broadway) District, a 24/7, 6 story restaurant. Again, we climbed to the top floor to take in the city view, as the sun was setting and everything seemed pink and tired. 

View from the sixth floor of The Diner Restaurant in the SoBro District

People are so nice in Nashville. I guess it’s sort of expected, if you’re in The South, right? But the city has a weird, cheesy, touristy, Las Vegas-like vibe to it too ... An interesting mix. 

I was just a hundreth of an inch close to walking away with two pairs of these. The place is contagious for boots!

On our second full day there, we visited the Belle Meade Mansion and then Centennial Park with the Parthenon replica. It is indeed just a replica, but it is very impressive. On the bottom floor, there is a historic timeline of its full construction which I found fascinating. You can mock it for America being again a copy-cat (Venice-like canals or The Trevi Fountain in Vegas, anyone?!), but there was planning, and thought, and research, and lots of money, and years to accomplish what you look at today. I think, all in all, worth seeing. 

We crowned our stay with the best, most rewarding experience of all: a night at The Grand Ole Opry (the new one, almost outside of town, and not the old, historic one which is now known as the Ryman Auditorium, downtown), where we were treated to a live show from the artists that created the soundtrack for the movie Oh, Brother Where Art Thou?. Can you believe that movie is now 25 years old? 

The Ryman Auditorium (today), the original Grand Ole Opry House

Talk about a bucket-list moment. Alison Krauss, Dan Tyminski, Emmylou Harris, The Whites, The Fairfield Four, Chris Thomas King, Tim Blake Nelson, Billy Strings, T. Bone Burnett put together a show like no other that I have ever seen. I have seen many music biopics picturing acts from the 50’s and 60’s and it was much like that - the stage was never empty, and one act followed another at stupefying speed, with almost no break. An announcer would present them and on the stage they headed, guitars and other instruments around their necks and in their hands. One amazing rendition after another. I thought I died and went to heaven - I knew every lyric. 

Everyone who is is anyone was on that stage

The energy and the passion they put into every song, everyone, from the little girls from The Alaskan Sunnyside Sisters to the old men of The Fairfield Four gave us the spectacle of our lifetime. I have been to many shows, a lot of them I lived to go to all of my life, but never in my 50 years have I seen an entire auditorium smiling and truly, genuinely happy, altogether, all at the same time. Not a frown, not a hateful word, not a petty spat. Everyone sang along and clapped, and stomped their feet and left happy. Especially in today’s world, to see this, to feel it through your bones, it was magical. 

And I blame it all, of course, on this music. This old timey music with relatable stories (the only thing this music requires to relate to is just to be human, although I am pretty sure it could even move my cat) connects people. Makes you happy to be alive, and heck, it even makes you happy to be dead one day, too, when the songs tell you about this fairy land you hope to go one day where “... the little streams of alcohol come trickling down the rocks”. 

That concert cured my troubled soul which has had a hard time settling in the past few years for good and proper. It brought me home - to a stronger home than the physical one - a spiritual and heart-felt one - the only one, the soulful one, the only one that truly matters ... 

And it restored my bridges to what I still (despite all evidence to the contrary lately) love about America. It mended what has been hurting for 10 years now, and it gave me hope. 

Driving out of Nashville, the echos of the voices of Billy Strings, Alison Krauss and Dan Tyminski were still playing softly in my head ... “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy, when skies are blue ...” 

Leaving The City of Music (for me) in the rearview mirror and rolling through my head the slide show of all the many artists we visited at the Country Music Hall of Fame Museum, all the recognizable names I stumbled into on the Honky Tonk Highway, made me also think of my dad and how much, oh how painfully much, I would have loved to share this with him. 

I remember him being puzzled one day because I was telling him a dress he wanted to buy for mom was “funky” looking. He said in perfect English: “Funky? What is funky? You mean honky. Honky tonk women? O-bla-di. O-bla-da.” My dad might have not known English, but he knew his music. And I am glad for this short excursion to treasure more of it myself, right from where it all started. 

One of the several garden interiors at our hotel: The Gaylord Opryland Resort & Convention Center - just 5 minutes from The Grand Ole Opry