Bonnaroo 2015

From its inception in 2002, I've always wanted to go to Bonnaroo.  Last year, in year 13, I finally made it to "the Farm" in Manchester on Friday for a day of music, beer and sunshine.  I immediately began to plot my return in 2015, for year 14 of Bonnaroo.  This year, I was lucky enough to go Friday, Saturday and Sunday.

And man, oh man, it was a beautiful thing.

It's kind of hard to put into words why attending Bonnaroo is such a meaningful thing to me.  What I can say, though, is that both years I've returned home on such high, so happy to be alive.  Today, I woke up smiling, in a great mood and I stayed that way all day long.  I felt energized.  Spending the weekend at Bonnaroo, with 3 friends, listening to amazing music all day and all night, having a beer or two and just walking around outside somehow transformed me into this shining, happy, carefree spirit.  Last year, I jokingly called it the "Bonnaroo high."

On a certain level, as I get older I think it's important to me to continue to try new and different things, to continue to test myself, live a little unconventionally and, really, just experience life.  That's part of it, I guess.  Also, music is such an important part of my life that it means a great deal to me to be able to see so much of it in one place in a few days' time.  Discovering new music is amazing and mind expanding for me, so I really thrive on seeing so many diverse musical acts for the first and maybe only time.  And it all happens outside, on "the Farm."  And everyone there is so happy.  As I said, it's a beautiful thing.

Friday, early afternoon, I drove down to Manchester by myself.  Once I navigated traffic and a long line to get in, I walked around with a smile on my face, taking it all in.  I had a beer at the craft beer tent (craft beers from all around the country) and browsed the vendors' tents.  I was drawn to a stage nearby when I heard music playing.  I walked up and began listening to Against Me!, a punk rock band with a transgender lead singer.  And they were amazing.  That, in essence, is Bonnaroo.

Later, I saw Moon Taxi and and Kaci Musgraves.  Both from Nashville and both pretty good.

Saturday morning, I rushed around to get Jude and the boys off to Cheekwood, so I could meet my friends and drive down to Manchester again.  I stopped by Bongo Java for quick cup of coffee and was crestfallen when I walked in and saw a long line.  As I gave up and walked outside, I stopped to talk to a couple of friends.  Suddenly, A.C. popped outside with a "Mood Elevator" in her hand, for me.  She had seen my in line and thought I looked like I needed a cup of coffee, so she made it for me and brought it outside.  It made my morning and started my weekend on the right note, for sure.

We drove to Holiday Marina, which is 20 minutes or so from Bonnaroo, and checked into to our motel rooms.  Nothing to write home about, but perfect for us to stay in on Saturday night.  We ate lunch at the Marina, then piled in my truck and drove to "the Farm."  Once we got inside, it was music, music and more music, from 2 p.m. to 1 a.m.  By the time we left, we all were exhausted.  But we saw some great stuff - Son Little, Catfish and the Bottlemen (really good), Songhoy Blues, Trampled by Turtles (fabulous, as always), Bahamas, Bleachers (also really good), Sturgill Simpson, X Ambassador, Slayer (one of the most terrifying experiences of my life) and All Them Witches.  Then, it was back to the Marina, where we crashed.

Sunday was a day of days.  Epic.  We ate breakfast, packed and arrived about noon.  First, we saw Shakey Graves (awesome), then Hurray for the Riff Raff (very good), Madisen Ward and Mama Bear, His Golden Messenger and Bela Fleck/Abigail Washburn.  That's when it got really interesting. I was prepared to go watch Jerry Douglas and his new band, when my friend, Derrick, suggested we go catch something different, something we wouldn't normally see in Nashville.

We wandered over to the "This" tent to watch an African band called The Very Best.  And we were blown away by a show so good that I would have paid full price at Bonnaroo just to see them play.  We were drawn into the middle of the crowd, up front, and we danced and danced and danced.  Again, that's Bonnaroo, for me, anyway.  Wandering up to see a band I've never heard of play a show I'll never forget.  Amazing.

 
The Very Best, rocking the house.

Next, Derek and I stopped into "the Silent Disco," where a couple hundred people at a time don headphones and dance while a DJ spins the records that no one outside the tent can hear.  From the outside looking in, it's kind of eerie to see all of these people dancing to a beat only they can hear through their headphones.

Later, we saw Mo and Rudimental.  Then we packed it up and headed home.

And I'm already planning my trip to Bonnaroo next year.

The motley crew.

Epilogue for Elliott Avenue

It's approaching midnight, and I'm sitting on the back deck of my new house on Linden Avenue, listening to the siren on a fire engine - probably Engine No. 8 - in the distance (some things never change about city life).  I left our house on Elliott Avenue for the last time about a half hour ago.

Today, Jude and I swept and mopped the floors at our old house (how strange to call it our "old" house).  I cleaned out the refrigerator and freezer.  Jude did several loads of laundry, as there is no washer and dryer in our new house.  The moving crew - who were great - moved the remaining items they couldn't find room for on the truck yesterday.  Duane mowed the grass, trimmed the yard and generally cleaned it up nicely.  He also removed the sandbox from the back yard.  Much to Joe's chagrin, it had rotted and couldn't be moved to the new house.  Duane also took another load of junk to the landfill.

Tonight, after dinner, Jude and I took J.P. and Joe to our old house for one last look around, and to pick up our cats, N.C. and Mini-T.  I smiled sadly when J.P. said to no one in particular, as he walked into Joe's empty bedroom downstairs, "I wish we could stay here just one more day."  Me, too, J.P., I thought, me, too.

The boys wandered around a bit, upstairs, then downstairs.  It was cute, as they were already in their pajamas.  It appeared that, like us, they already had said their goodbyes to our old house.

Earlier in the afternoon, when Jude and I were sweeping and mopping the empty rooms, I literally felt a dull ache in my stomach and chest.  It's strange, I know, but I felt so sad to know we were leaving and that I would never live in that house again.  My heart felt so heavy.  It's hard to explain, because I don't think I've felt that way before, but I felt this overwhelming, palpable sense of sadness.  I almost had to stop and sit down to collect myself and my emotions.

The boys were worn out when we left our old house with the cats, so we moved straight into our bedtime routine when we got back to the new house.  My tentative plan, at that point, was to put the boys in bed, then return to our old house.  I was going to go for a final run, finish at Bongo Java, get a "Mood Elevator, " then walk home like I have so many times over the last 12 + years.  Of course, it didn't quite work out that way.  It took longer to get the boys in bed than I had hoped, so I skipped the run, drove over to Bongo Java, and drank a "Mood Elevator" there.  Then, I went to our old house to finish cleaning, take out the trash and pick up the odds and ends that were still there.

I had planned to end the night by sitting on the front porch, drinking a beer and writing a blog post about how I felt, in the moment, to be leaving our old house once and for all.  Much to my surprise, though, I got busy cleaning and loading my truck, and by the time I was done, I just wanted to get home, and be with my family, even though they would probably all be asleep.  And that's when it hit me.  Home wasn't on Elliott Avenue any longer, it was in our new house on Linden Avenue.  I felt a sense of relief, as I locked the front door for the last time and took my key off my keychain and left it in the mailbox.  Finally, at long last, I was ready to move on, to my new home.

Jude and I, and later, the boys, got as much out of our house on Elliott Avenue as we possibly could over the last 12 + years.  As I told Duane when we were standing in the front yard talking today, the Elliott Avenue house wasn't perfect, but it was perfect for us.

It's funny, but this afternoon while we were cleaning, Jude reminded me of something we had said when we were deciding whether to buy the house in 2002.  As we looked at it with my cousin, Alice, we wondered if we were really cool enough to own that house.  In the city, exposed brick on the inside, giant maple tree in the front yard, gorgeous mantle over the fireplace, original hardwood floors throughout and original old, smoky glass windows.  No driveway and no garage, just parking on the street and living in the 'hood!  Well, it turns out, we were plenty cool enough to own that house.  And we were plenty cool enough to have two boys who lived in that house with us.

And so, as I turned off all the lights inside for the last time, as I turned off the front porch lights and locked the front door, then dropped the keys in the mailbox, there were no tears or prolonged sighs or remembrances of times passed.

The end was just the end.  And that's as it should be.



     

Dodgers!

The Dodgers, after winning the end of season tournament in the Willie Mays Division of the Rookie League at the West Nashville Sports League.  From left to right, Hank, Davis, Winn, Wes, Jaxyn, Cyrus, J.P., Cooper, Jonathan, Brennan and Aidan.

This afternoon at Harpeth Hills Church of Christ, my Dodgers won the end of season tournament by beating the Nationals, 8-7.  It was a great, close game, and I was so proud of my boys for hanging in there and getting the win.  They played tough in the field in the top of the 6th inning, gave up one run, but managed to hold on for the win after Jaxyn made a couple of nice plays at pitcher.  Winn, Brennan and Cyrus hit well.  Cooper made a nice play at 3rd, after which he gunned the runner at 1st base.  J.P. made a great play at 2nd, when he went far to his right to field a ball, kept his glove down and threw a strike to Winn at 1st base.

Winning was fun, for sure, but what I pleased me the most was how well the boys got along with each other, how much fun they had, how much they improved over the course of the season and how much they learned.  It's such a great group of boys.  I love every one of them.  It's so rewarding to connect with each boy in a slightly different way.  What I'm hoping to do is keep the team together in baseball over the years, so they can grow together as players and boys.

The boys' parents are fantastic, as well.  Jude and I have made so many good friends through J.P.'s sports, especially baseball.  That's been a real treat.

What a great season!  Now, let's do it again this fall!

Hank, J.P. and Winn.

Randy and Jonathan.

Chris and Wes.

One more team photo.

Summer is Here!

J.P., on the front porch before the last day of kindergarten.

Stop Moving My Cheese

I don't handle change well.  Never have, probably never will.  And right now, there's a maelstrom of change in my life.

This morning at breakfast, J.P. reminded me it was his second to last full day of kindergarten.  His first year of school, gone in a flash.  Mind boggling.  Although he tells me the school year has gone by quickly for him, I guarantee it hasn't gone by as quickly for him as it has for me.  His first summer as a school aged child is upon us, which means it time for camps, camps and more camps.

Yesterday before I took Joe to play school at West End United Methodist Church, we watched an episode of "Super Why" on PBS.  He's moved on, almost completely, from "Sid the Science Kid" (my all time favorite) and seems to be losing a bit of interest in "Curious George," previously a morning television staple of his.  I had yet to watch "Super Why" with him, so when I did, it brought back vivid memories of watching "Super Why" with J.P.  As Yogi Berra once said, it was "deja vu all over again."  It makes me a little sad to see Joe moving on from "Sid the Science Kid" and "Curious George," only because it's a sign of how quickly he's changing and growing up.  Having been through this with J.P., I know how fast things change and how powerless I am to stop it.

Then, of course, there's the inexorable march toward May 30, when we leave our Elliott Avenue house forever.  We closed the sale of house on Friday, so technically we're not the owners anymore.  I'm ignoring that salient fact, however, and trying to enjoy the last, lingering days we'll spend there.  It's the end of an era, for sure, and the end of such an important and special time in my life.

As I walked up the street approaching the house last night, having just completed a 4 mile run, I was struck by how beautiful the tree - my favorite stately old maple tree - dominating the front yard - is this spring.  Thanks to all of the rain we've had this spring, the tree has exploded with large, green leaves.  The house is almost completely hidden from the street by the low hanging branches of the tree, which we always liked.  Strangely, it gives the house a secluded feel, especially at night.

It will be a banner fall for the Leaf Party - a party we're not going to be able to host at our Elliott Avenue house, after more than a decade of doing so.  And that makes me sad, too.

Freaky Friday

I just dropped J.P. off at school for his last Friday of the year.  As we drove to USN, he and I marveled at how quickly his kindergarten year had passed by.  I was glad to have a last chance to take him to school this morning, because Jude normally drops him off.  I feel more connected to USN when I take him to school every now and then.

He's a great first year at USN.  Great teacher, great friends and most importantly, great learning.  One day, early on, he came home and starting reading to Jude and me.  I realize he already was reading some, but it just sort of happened that all of a sudden, he was reading.  On of the true pleasures, for me, of his kindergarten year has been listening to him read a book to me each night, then signing the sheet in his book folder as the "lucky listener."  Lucky indeed.

This year marked the Centennial Celebration at USN, the school's 100th birthday.  There have a been a variety of events we have attended with J.P. and Joe.  Still, I haven't felt as connected as I am sure I will be in years to come.  I think it's because Jude normally takes him to school and picks him up, as well.  Also, I've been so busy with other volunteer activities and boards (Children's House and 21st Drug Court) that I haven't found the time to get involved at USN.  My style, though, is too ease into these types of things, so I suspect I'll get more involved next year and in the years to come.

When school ends next week, J.P will head off to a variety of camps throughout the summer.  Sports camps at USN and MBA, Zoo camp and Camp Whippoorwill.  It makes me a little sad, sometimes, to see him shuffled off to so many camps every summer, although it's unavoidable given Jude's and my work schedules.  I seem to remember my summers were lazier and longer lasting, made up of backyard playing, fort building in the woods, Monopoly marathons and trips to Opryland.  J.P. doesn't have that luxury, unfortunately.  

I could sit here at Bongo Java forever on such a beautiful spring morning, but I can't.  It's off to work (mediation) and then, hopefully, to the closing of the sale of our house on Elliott Avenue later this morning.  Big day.

J.P. and his kindergarten buddy, Cecil, at USN.

All Good Things Must Come to an End

And so, it seems, all good things must come to an end, including our time at 1906 Elliott Avenue, where I've laid my head almost every night for the past 12 1/2 years.

Tomorrow, if all goes according to plan, someone else will own my old, beloved Nashville house.  And it absolutely breaks my heart.

I'm working on a longer piece about our impending move, which isn't scheduled to happen for two more weeks.  I'd be remiss, though, if I didn't write something tonight as I sit on my front porch listening to My Morning Jacket (Tennessee Fire), sipping a beer after a 3-mile night run in the 'hood.  How many nights have I sat on this front porch and unwound after a busy day with work and kids, followed by a relaxing night run and a walk home from Bongo Java?  Too many to count.

I've deliberately shied away from writing about a possible move, for a couple of reasons.  First, it's been such an arduous process, looking at house after house, then trying to close the deal on the house we signed a contract to buy.  Second, I've been trying to work out in my head why I'm so sad to leave this house and what a move will mean to me and my family.

It helps that we're moving less than a mile away.  Still, it won't be the same.  It never is.  I'll miss this house and this neighborhood so much.  It's been such an important part of my identity for more than decade.  I'm grown to love living in the city - the diversity, the characters, the sirens, the police of Lifeflight helicopters, the sidewalks, the edginess - that and so much more.  I've become a city mouse, for sure.

And it all comes to and end tomorrow, at least in this house.  The distance between this house and our new house can't be measured in feet, yards or miles.  It's a whole different world there, I fear.  No diversity, bigger and more expensive houses and a neighborhood where everyone looks and acts alike.  I'll adapt and the move will be great for my family, but it won't be the same as what we have here on Elliott Avenue.  That's not necessarily a bad thing, I realize, but damn, it makes me sad to leave this house.

I've never been one to handle change well.  I'm often paralyzed by nostalgia, looking back instead of ahead.  So many memories in this house, especially of our boys, J.P. and Joe.

I'm fairly certain I'll never love a house as much as I love this one, for a variety of reasons.

Damn.