Success

 "For me, success is not a public thing. It's a private thing. It's when you have fewer and fewer regrets."

Toni Morrison

When My Time Comes

 A few days before leaving for Nashville I started reading a book titled: "When My Time Comes - Conversations About Whether Those Who Are Dying Should Have the Right to Determine When Life Should End."

An odd choice perhaps; maybe not. 

It is a sobering read. I was part way throught the book when I left for Nashville; I finished it on Wednesday after my return.

So I was immersed in a conversation about the right to die with dignity, then I flew headlong into the ultimate high that is Nashville, then I came home and wrapped up the right to die book.

The book made me uncomfortable, Nashville cleansed my soul, the book made me uncomfortable.

This fits the routine I have established for this vacation. I am changing my routines (especially this week, now that The End Is Near). Without taking a nuclear approach, I am changing routines, re-establishing habits that previously made me feel good about myself, and addressing head-on "things that need to be done."

The book is educational - it addressed the topic from all sides. Pros and cons, supporters and dissenters, religious, medical, academic etc. It also forced me to think about things I don't want to think about.

Although I have been thinking hard lately about the fact that I am 67, that I have prostate cancer and that I am unhappy with my life. To be more specific - I am going to die, and it would be stupid to die in bitter regret.

Nashville provided perfect perspective for all this. I was so happy, had so much fun, immersed myself in a history that means something to me, and escaped my life for 4 days. It was like pressure washing the poison from my soul.

Now that I am home I am working to think happy. I love being here, love being with Carol and the cats, but I typically ruin my free time with worry and regret - which is stupid and a waste of my very precious time.

When my thoughts get dark I think "Knock it off, idiot - you are on vacation." Sometimes I win, sometimes I lose. But I am aware; I am trying. I refuse to fall back on hopelessness.

The most important thing is that when I go back to work next Thursday I am not suicidal. There has to be a change in me and some hope to fuel that change.

Even if it is only a change in thought process.

That alone will be a pretty big step forward considering the tendrils of poison that currently thread through my brain.

Broken Vows

Phil and I vowed not to drink during the day while in Nashville.

In an attempt to be mature; in an attempt to survive.

We quickly broke that vow.

We were relaxing in the room on Saturday afternoon when housekeeping showed up to freshen up the room. It was 3 o'clock.

In unison we said "Time to check out the rooftop bar." Where the hell did you think we would go? The Nashville Public Library?

The hotel had a rooftop bar, and a bar just off the lobby, to provide easy access to alcohol. Which is critical.

The bartender in the rooftop bar was a goddess. Not for her physical attributes, but for her generous pours. I tried to behave somewhat and drink beer, but I'm not much of a fan of beer these days.

I drank only premium whiskey, and oh my god was she generous with the servings. Delightful.

So we ended up in the bar at 3 o'clock on a Saturday afternoon.

Not our fault.

Again on Sunday we were forced to break our vow. Because of THE PATS game. We decided to watch the game in the relative quiet of the first floor hotel bar. Since the game was at 7:20 (Nashville time) we were forced to take one last run at Broadway - at 4 o'clock.

We hit four bars before heading back for the game. We were primed and ready.

Our decision proved to be prescient. The hotel bar was quiet. We got great seats at the bar right in front of the TV. Ate good food, drank good booze (although I started with an ice water, which was quite necessary after the Final Tour of Broadway) and became the bartenders best friend. His name was Josh.

I bought my ticket to heaven in that bar for 20 bucks.

Josh told us he worked two full time jobs to pay for his kids schooling, but he was super psyched because after that night he was taking two weeks off. It was a slow night for him, not many people - until he started to close the bar at 10 o'clock. Then of course a bunch of people walked in.

I recognized the anguish on his face because I have been there before. It is a weird deal, because you have had a slow night, didn't make much money and at the very end of the night you get a chance to make a few bucks.

But you are human - you just want to go home - especially if you are staring down a 2 week vacation.

He was a pro. He waited on everybody politely, absorbed the blows when they asked for a second round and he explained that the bar was closed. Then he flew through his closing routine, which included lugging bottles of booze in plastic tubs to a closet, where they were locked up.

I stopped him on the way back from one trip to the closet and handed him $20. This was on top of the tip we already included in our check. Thanked him for his service, explained my empathy having been there before, and wished him a peaceful and enjoyable vacation. He thanked me sincerely.

And Jesus smiled.

Anyway, we started drinking at 4 o'clock on Sunday afternoon. We only had two days to "not drink in the afternoon" and we drank early on both days.

Again. Not our fault.

The Golden Age of Serial Killers

Can you believe there was such a thing?

And that somebody would actually call it that? Shouldn't it be The Dark Underbelly of America? Or Psychosis Unfettered? Or The Best and the Brightest at Multiple Murders?

The golden age ran from 1970 to 2000. The top dogs were Ted Bundy, John Wayne Gacy, Jefffrey Dahmer, Dennis Rader, and Gary Ridgway. Please bear in mind that if you don't restrict the list to 1970-2000, the list of names is staggeringly long. Quite bizarre.

Their accomplishments: Ted Bundy - 28 dead; John Wayne Gacy - 33 dead; Jeffrey Dahmer - 17 dead; Dennis Rader - 10 dead; Gary Ridgway - 49 dead.

I guess that makes Ridgway the MVP.

These guys were competitive - they followed press coverage of each other and felt insulted if someone was getting more attention. 

Dennis Rader once left a note for the police asking: "How many do I have to Kill before I get a name in the paper or some national attention?" He even suggested nicknames for himself. He eventually became known as B.T.K. (bind, torture, kill), which is one of the nicknames he suggested.

I am fascinated by serial killers.

So often the story from relatives, friends and co-workers is that you would never guess the depravity in these men from day to day contact.

How can that be? They run around killing multiple innocent victims, they hide the bodies, conduct their bizarre rituals and there is a never a hint of something being a bit off? Amazing.

Then again, you and I go to work with hatred in our hearts - for the job, the people we work with. Our bank balance disgusts us. We are jealous of those who are more successful than us. We feel slighted by the treatment of other people and harbor a general hatred of the unworthy who are seen as more valuable than us.

But nobody knows it. We smile, we laugh heartily at non-jokes, we do the boss's bidding despite the malice in our hearts, we tell everyone we are fine when we are anything but. We are robots acting out a part that kills us inside, while outwardly we project calm, contentment and good behavior.

I am not drawing a direct line from your average working stiff to serial killers. I do not condone the horrible things they do and the suffering they cause.

Ted Bundy was executed in 1989. Jeffrey Dahmer was murdered by an inmate. John Wayne Gacy was executed in 1994. Dennis Rader is serving life in prison. Gary Ridgway is serving life in prison.

Well done. Although the argument can be made they have not suffered enough for the lives they took and the pain they caused family members of the victims.

Serial killers are the most extreme example of the end result of a society that makes false promises to it's members; a society that misleads, sabotages, and throws up road blocks at every opportunity in the lives of human beings who only want peace of mind, love and happiness.

Serial killing has dropped off drastically since 2000.

I hope this is a good sign, but I am not convinced.

Brilliant

Last time I was at work was September 24.

I report for duty once again on October 14.

Including today, I still have 8 days off. And I sandwiched in a trip to Nashville.

I am brilliant.

Tight Rope

When I was out on the town in Nashville I was in my element.

Supremely happy.

When I was killing time in the hotel room all I could think about was getting home to Carol and the cats.

Phil and I quickly settled into a rhythm after our arrival - party at night, sleep late, grab a big breakfast, go back to the hotel to chill for a while, go back out. (We actually took naps, in an honest nod to our advanced age).

We did no touristy stuff.

My intention was to at least visit the Country Music Hall of Fame, but it didn't happen and I don't regret it.

I am not a touristy guy. Could have been cool to see so and so's car, so and so's guitar, autographed this and that but really, I'd rather come face to face with Willie Nelson than to look at a statue of him in a museum. 

Tootsie's and Nudie's were my museums.

There are at least two me's and the contrast is extreme.

I am never more comfortable than when I am sitting in a bar, sipping whiskey, listening to good music.

I am never more comfortable than when I am sitting in my recliner with a cat in my lap and Carol by my side.

My emotions bounced up and down in Nashville like a red rubber ball. Still, the trip was medicine for me at the exact moment when my soul needed tending to.

Fun Fact: We quickly realized that we were almost always the oldest people in every bar we went in to. The funniest situation was in Nudie's Honky Tonk. They have a roof top bar. We had not checked out any roof top bars yet so we decided to give it a shot.

Walked up four flights, walked outside, took one look around at the children who were partying up there, looked at each other and said "No fucking way". Walked back down the stairs to something closer to reality.

We did laugh about it.

Sobering Fact: Every night in every bar was a super-spreader event for Covid. Jammed in, elbow to elbow, no masks on any face. Including ours.

We felt somewhat confident because both of us got booster shots before the trip, but still................the jury is still out on this horrific disease. Then again, at some point, in some way, you gotta get back to living your life. There are millions of morons in this country who are quite content to jeopardize other peoples' health. This shit is going to go on forever because of their selfish stupidity.

Anyway, I did not expect the homebody in me to make such a strong showing. Christ, man - I was in Nashville. To wash away all my sins and commit new ones; to forget about the job; to forget about the responsibilities at home; to create a new, temporary reality where I could flourish; to revel in insane fun and cathartic escape.

I wanted Nashville to re-wire my brain to the point where my real life could not exist.

The pull is too strong. My family means everything to me and is a source of spiritual and emotional nourishment.

All in all, it was not a bad thing, though. I quickly learned to walk the tightrope between joyful abandonment and longing for my home.

"I'm up on the tight wire, one side's ice and one is fire" - Tight Rope, by Leon Russell.

Nashville On My Mind

How you doin'?

Sensory overload, baby. Nashville was like a recurring bolt of lightening to the brain.

Zap, zap, zap.

And the yin and yang of NH to Nashville and Nashville to NH is a bit disorienting. One extreme to the other.

Got home last night at 7:30. To Carol. To Emmy Lou. To Patsy. The sweet comfort of home. I mean that sincerely.

I am shooting from the hip here. I have not planned my remarks. In an odd sense I feel high. Because I still have Nashville in my blood and because of that, I refuse to return to "normal". There are certain things about my life at home that gotta go - annoying, no mind things that waste my time and poison my karma.

If I am in this house I gotta be happy. 'Nuff said.

Nashville impressions: The area around our hotel - The Westin (no Motel 6 for us) - was like any boring, predictable city. High rises, businesses, sterility - typical American blandness.

However - a 10 minute walk, a right hand turn and Oh My God - Nashville! Broadway, baby.

Bars up and down both sides of the street. Neon signs, talented bands playing in every bar, music pouring out into the street. Roof top bars - lots of them - with bands. People!!!!!!!!!!! Happy, forget the facade, people!

Old school country music does it for me. 

So Dierks Bentley's Whiskey Row, Jason Aldean's Kitchen and Rooftop bar, Kid Rock's Big Ass Honky Tonk and Rock 'N Roll Steakhouse - and others - don't do shit for me. Doesn't mean we didn't check them out - I think for two old guys in three nights we made a pretty good showing up and down Broadway. But my point is they were just bars to me.

However two joints melted my heart; they were the reason I was in Nashville.

Tootsie's Orchid Lounge. Church. I was in church. Absolute awe.

Opened in 1960. Some people who drank there and played there and wrote songs there - Willie Nelson, Kris Kristofferson, Waylon Jennings, George Jones, Merle Haggard, Emmy Lou Harris, Patsy Cline - recognize any of those names?

Brief aside - Carol caught an interview with Willie Nelson while I was away, during which he casually mentioned that he wrote Crazy in Tootsie's. Carol was blown away because she knew I was excited to see the place. Me drinking whiskey in Tootsie's - talk about carrying on a tradition.

The place is four stories high, but I am so glad they preserved that dive bar feel. No glitz and glitter.

Autographed 8x10's plastered on the walls - every available space, four stories high. I tried to find the people I love but there were 8 million pictures to choose from. So I just let the atmosphere wash over me, as I dug the bands (we were there more than once) that played there.

However, on Saturday night we caught a couple of seats at a table across from the bar on the first floor. Sitting there sipping whiskey, I looked to my right above the bar and noticed a large, framed picture of Kris Kristofferson - inscribed - Tootsie's, With Love, Kris Kristofferson.

I was saved.

I bought t-shirts for me and Carol from one place and one place only. That place was Tootsie's.

Do you know who Nudie Cohn is? You know those crazy over-the-top rhinestone suits a lot of country singers wore? Nudie was THE go-to guy for those suits. They were called "Nudie Suits."

He made suits for Hank Williams, Gene Autry, Johnny Cash, John Lennon, Bob Dylan, Roy Rogers, Elton John and Elvis and..........................

He has a bar - Nudie's Honky Tonk - that was another church for me. He's been gone since 1984 but his bar brings the funk in a big way. Hanging on the wall in glass cases are suits worn by these amazing people, with a plaque telling you who wore the suits. 

Very funky place, all kinds of funk going on, but the eyestopper is one of Nudie's Cadillac El Dorados - hanging on the wall. He was big on customizing cars -  called them Nudie Mobiles - silver-dollar studded dashboards, pistol doorhandles, longhorn steer hood ornaments etc. 

The man was eccentric - what's not to love?

I was in Nashville for the history and the music. And every band we heard was talented. I was immersed in great music from old country to new country to classic rock and newer stuff, fiddle music and on and on and on.

Got tired of one song though, that apparently every Nashville bar band is required to play. Of course it's a drinking song. "Whiskey Glasses" by Morgan Wallen. Everybody knew the lyrics. Repetitive but what the hell - drunken communal singing is therapeutic.

Christ - I got caught up singing "Friends In Low PLaces" in one bar. Belted it out with pride, along with every other person in the bar. And somehow, because we were in Nashville - it did not feel cliched.

I was also in Nashville for insanity. Got plenty of that.

More to come.