Monday, October 20, 2014

Chapter 56 – Boomtown





Oh my God what is happening?
Everyone I know is struggling to believe.
And why is there so much pain in the world?
God only knows, but He’s not telling me.
-  God Only Knows - JWH
I was at a soccer coaches meeting (since I had volunteered to coach my son’s team) in the Williamson County facility on August 28th, 2005. There were reports of a devastating hurricane approaching the New Orleans area and it looked like it was going to be a direct hit. I was speaking with another coach, Ann Rice, whose daughter Katrina’s birthday was the next day. I thought it was ironic—something the little girl would never forget if the predictions were accurate of the damage this hurricane would wreak.
The next morning I was watching CNN, as most people I imagined were doing, and the scenes that they captured were beyond belief. Hundreds of thousands displaced from their homes. People stranded at the Superdome, daring rescues in the deluge, you name it, and it was all there. I happened to watch a report of a guy, Dwayne Jones, who told a reporter that there were thousands of people at the Convention Center also stranded and that he should gather his team of cameras and go there. They were in dire need of help. This person, Mr. Dwayne Jones, was not only a hero but after that report of all these people discovered at the Convention Center, nobody, as far as I know, heard a thing about him again. He, like so many others, was the unsung hero of Hurricane Katrina.
I was inspired and wrote a song aptly entitled Dwayne Jones. With a new collection of songs in my arsenal, and a regular gig at Kimbro’s and The Family Wash in East Nashville, I thought a new record was brewing. I had my anthem, God Only Knows (But He’s Not Telling Me), Somebody’s Father, Somebody’s Son and You Don’t Know Jack in the can and now I was inspired to write Evacuation Plan, which was a what-to-do-in-an-emergency pamphlet put to music. I had actually taken most of the lyrics from the Red Cross website and rearranged them into lyric form. Once again, I then wrote the title track, Boomtown, about unwanted progress coming to the neighboring small Southern town and projecting after the boon, the place would be on the decline (like most of America these days, I’m afraid). Once again, I played all the instruments on the record and by the beginning of 2006, the record mastered.
I was working for selling advertising for a music magazine in Nashville and my only sale was to a CD duplicating company. Instead of a commission, I traded it for them to reproduce 300 copies of my record. Not a bad deal! One day, Larry, the owner of the said music magazine company had found a small black and white Lhasa Apso dog and was trying to find a home for her. He said he was going to take her to the pound when I said I would take her instead. I named her Bagger after the movie The Legend of Bagger Vance, because she like to shag golf balls. I knew Donna wouldn’t be too happy about having another dog, since we already had Bailey and Bruno and a few cats.
One day I was speaking with my neighbor and casually mentioned that I might be looking for a home for wee Bagger. Sometimes I should learn to keep my mouth shut because I was beginning to grow attached to the dog. She said she would take her and I thought she was serious but I hadn’t really committed to giving her up yet; at least that’s what I thought. The next day I had let Bagger out for a pee and I couldn’t find her anywhere. I thought maybe she’d run away or had gotten hit by a car. I checked the yard and the streets—nothing.
That night I thought I saw her in my neighbor’s yard, but she looked different. She had her hair cut and styled. I moseyed over to ask Debbie (my obnoxious neighbor) if that was Bagger and she said, yes. “You told me I could have her and I jumped on it.”
“Well, I guess maybe I did mention something of that sort, but I had no idea that you would take her without asking me. To tell you the truth, I wanted to keep her.”
“Sorry, but I took her to the vet and spent over a hundred dollars having her “fixed”, not to mention the haircut. She’s mine now!”
What could I do? Sure, I could have insisted on taking the dog back, but I figured she was right next door and I could see her anytime I wanted. Besides, Donna wouldn’t have to worry about another poor animal to take care of, even though I think she had grown rather fond of the dog, too. Neighbors! Jeez. I guess that’s why the Robert Frost wrote in The Mending Wall, Good fences make good neighbors. I would love to prescribe to the adage of love thy neighbor and mostly I do, but these people are too much. I don’t know what it is about that property. The people that lived there before were weird and had a kid named Drew (one of Jonathan’s friends at the time), who I’m sure has aspirations to be the next Unabomber. Makes you wonder. Is the the house that attracts the people or vice versa?  One day I will build that fence, or maybe they’ll move, but I know some family as bad, if not worse will move in. Maybe we’ll move.
We’ve been in Middle Tennessee for over ten years and I still hadn’t gotten used to it. Nashville was a growing city, though it had never prepared itself for the extreme amount of development it had experienced in such a short time. Streets are too narrow and can’t accommodate the overabundance of commuters. Traffic is almost as bad as in Los Angeles—worse sometimes, when you considered the lack of alternate routes. There’s no real transportation system in place: no passenger trains or subways, just a limited number of bus routes. Most folks still took their cars and trucks.
Did I say Trucks? I’d never seen so many Ford F-150s, Chevy Silverados, Dodge Rams and GMC Sierras in my life. It was only the damn Yankees, like me, who drove foreign sports cars. You know what they say down here: A Yankee was a northerner who came south; a damn Yankee was one who stayed. And churches? Fahgettaboutit! The first thing they asked you when you came down here was, “What church do you go to?” When I told them I was Jewish, Nashvillians want to either convert me on the spot, or simply say, “My, isn’t that interesting! You ought to come down on Sunday and talk to our pastor.” For others, it was a little less confrontational: “I had a good friend once who was Jewish.”
The once quiet and unassuming Southern town of Spring Hill (the neighboring town to the south) had grown up in a big way. Unfortunately it grew in places like Burger King’s MacDonald’s, Wendy’s and Pizza Hut.  At least they built a Home Depot and a Lowe’s but no Bank of America or Wells Fargo so I still have to trek to Franklin (ten miles to the north) to do my banking. That’s why I wrote the title track to my new CD.
Another one goes up
Another one comes down
And I don’t recognize this sleepy Southern Town
They got those big ideas and dreams of steel and gold
Now I realize all the pretty things pockets just can’t hold
And it’s sundown on this boom town
And it’s sunrise in my little darling’s eyes. - 
Boomtown - JWH


Where would we go anyway? Back to LA? Not with the traffic, crime and general malaise mixed with aggression in the attitude of most people there. Oshkosh Wisconsin? Probably a very nice northern town but the winter? I don’t think I could handle that. What about Seattle? Too rainy. Phoenix? Too hot (even though it’s a dry heat.) Scotland? A strong possibility, but we would have to quarantine all of our animals. Looks like I’m kind of stuck here. Oh well, I guess it could be worse.

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