Ch 15 - Central Tennessee

Travels with Jake – 2012

Chapter 15

Central Tennessee Mar 28-

After the intensity of Memphis and the poignant quiet of the battlefields, it was great to ease back onto the Natchez Trace parkway and cruise through nature again. As we travel about, we become aware of attractions that lie on our path, and occasionally we learn of a “must see” that requires our making a slight detour. Just south of Nashville is the wonderfully preserved town of Franklin where there was another civil war battle – street fighting this time. We took the walking tour around to see the lovely homes, most of which existed during the conflict, and ended the afternoon at a sidewalk cafe, enjoying the live music from within. I'm thinking we might get Jake to sell pencils or gum or something, or maybe paw-print souvenirs, as he sure is good at stopping passers-by! Late afternoon and still no place to stay in the core of this cute little town, and there was some live music to be had later. There are of course parking opportunities a-plenty but one never knows all the local regulations. People's reactions to a Stranger in Town vary, and occasionally their paranoia can have their fingers tapping out 911 before they know it. The density of constabulary in this country, coupled with the armies of inmates already caught leave them with not much to do, and a day without an arrest is bad for job security. Armed with ignorance and with statistics on my side, I am immune to burglars and throat-slitters, but I sure don't want to get rousted out of my warm bunk in a strange town by the cops. Heather is not so confident on the bad-guy thing and insists we find places where we are at least quasi-welcome, so it was off to the ubiquitous big-box 'burbs after the music, which turned out to be a disappointing punk duo with the grand name of Aotearoa. And they weren't even Kiwis! Oh well, can't win 'em all.

Its always a good idea to chat with your parking-lot neighbours. Its puts them at ease, and you too. Next morning we found a young Oklahoma man and his 6 year old son and old dog living in a small rusty old camper-van. The kid was playing with Jake and his few toys on the grass while we chatted. Dad was looking for work to earn some rent money to get an address to get the boy into school as soon as possible. There was only one direction this guy could go – up. I hope he'll be OK, as there doesn't seem to be a lot of systems in place to help him around here. Meanwhile Heather was in getting her hair cut by a young mother of a 7 year old. This girl drove an hour each way to work and paid $2700 per year for medical insurance that had a deductible of $5000. A couple of medical issues with her son forced her to pay the hospital with her Visa card which she of course couldn't pay back in time, so now she has a bad credit rating. The haircut cost $20, and she sure didn't get to keep all of that! The ongoing tragedy of the American medical care system is that if you are lucky enough to have a job that includes health insurance, you are unlikely to quit it for another that doesn't, or take a chance on starting your own business. We have met successful Americans whose insurance coverage stopped before their cancer treatment was complete, forcing them to sell their business and house just to keep the monster at bay, and in one case a man simply moved to Mexico (where they have universal health care) when he became completely broke. We heard of a Habitat for Humanity project in Mississippi that couldn't find anyone who would work with them to build themselves a free house. It seemed that most everyone in that poor community had at one time or another been to the hospital and couldn't pay the bill. Consequently, they didn't want to own even a part of a house, as the hospital would come and take it. In my view, there is something very wrong with the Republican approach to health care and the lack of empathy that it reflects. Anyway, parking lots aren't as desolate as you might think and there's always a story out there!

Moving on to Nashville, we stopped at the site of the World Exposition of 1898 where they had built a full-sized replica of the Parthenon. It was such a hit that they rebuilt it in durable materials and it now stands magnificent in the large park. The Greek one is rather crumbly these days and its dreadfully hot there anyway, so this was a nice, unexpected treat for the traveller. Bruce, our Australian voice in the GPS, guided us out to a campground on the edge of town where we caught up with our Ontario border collie people. After getting hooked up, we took the shuttle downtown to experience Broadway, Nashville's answer to Beale Street. Here we found lots of music, but with more of a country slant than the last town. There seems to be a cycle where a band will play in one bar for a couple of hours, then another comes in, sets up, and goes non-stop for another 2 hour set. The bands play for tips, and some of them are top-notch. You can poke your head in a window to see if the music on offer suits your taste and either go in for a drink, or move to the next place. There was a lot going on with many bands in many bars, all in about a 5-block length of street. It was lots of fun, and again, no trace of the sleazy aspect of night life. Mind you, this was around 6pm so any self-respecting gangster or doper wouldn't be out yet. We ended up the evening with a meal at a little place that featured bluegrass on Thursday nights. Earl Scruggs, the iconic bluegrass banjo player, had just died the night before and the excellent band were playing a heartfelt tribute. Each member was quirky-looking, just as you would expect from a genuine backwoods group, and they would not play any requested songs that were not Earl's. It was a great night.

Heather had been complaining for a few days about a tooth acting up, and thought at first there may have been some food caught under a bridge or something. We are both accomplished wishful thinkers, but this time it didn't work. Time to see the dentist, but of course it was a fine weather Friday and at least in these parts, they all take Fridays off. The GPS kept delivering phone numbers for dentists further and further from us along our eastward route and we eventually found one who would see her that afternoon. A couple of hours drive took us to Cookeville, Tennessee and soon the verdict was in – root canal! Aaargh. She started up her antibiotics and there we were at the edge of yet another parking lot feeling sorry for ourselves and wondering where to turn. It seemed that the offending tooth had been done before, and not particularly well, so the dentist strongly suggested a specialist should do the the job and not just any old hack. A mate of mine from high school and university days, and an Indian Ocean veteran on my first boat actually grew up to be somebody and has been happily reaming roots in Chicago for many years. I gave him a call to see if he knew any root canal specialists in Tennessee who would be good enough for my Heather. Come here, he said, and he would fix her up. Hey, it was only a 600 mile trip and would take us through parts of Kentucky, lucky us. We can save Appalachia and those slack-jawed banjo pickers for another time. So yes, we gratefully accepted Jim's kind offer and headed north next morning. It good to keep flexible, don't you think? Meet us next for our northbound leg. Thanks for tuning in.