Weird that I really love babies, but have never wanted a child. I can’t handle that hit to my freedom of movement.
I know some of us were born to cast our fortunes to the wind
And I guess I’m bound to travel down a road that never endsKris Kristofferson
There is a new building going up next to the hotel where we stayed in Nashville. In our room, there was a writing desk up against the window where I did my work for two days. Right outside that window was the building that was being raised. The men were working on the 4th story and my room was on the 7th — so I had a great view of the worksite.
My work mostly involves sitting in meetings. Usually multi-tasking while on camera so trying to pay some attention to the discussion while also doing something else. Our work seems intangible to the casual observer, although if we get it right, there is a practical outcome to the tens of millions of dollars and two years of work. It’s very incremental, where progress can be hard to measure in short periods of time.
It’s not exciting work but it’s also not overly taxing. I mostly get paid for my experience and judgement, not for hard labor.
That’s not the case with my boys three floors down. They are doing solid work. Man’s work. Building shit. A big high rise building from steel, wood, glass and concrete.
For the two days we were there, I became heavily invested in the work of who I soon came to call ‘my co-workers’. In my mind I became part of the crew. A silent but very interested observer. I gave them names like Bud, Nikki the Greek, Bruce, Rocco, and Joey Bag o’ Donuts.
Joey got his nickname because at the start of the shift, when my boys huddled for the safety briefing, he was eating those little white powdered donuts from a clear plastic bag. Clever.
These were working men and I admired them. I imagined I was joining them at the tavern for a beer after the shift. I would buy the first round and we’d talk about our day. Building things. We’d complain about the white collar bosses who made all the money but don’t really know what the fuck they’re talking about.
‘I get it’ I would say.
This was no public works job. My boys went hard for the entire shift. Then we welcomed the new crew who took over at 3:00 pm. I was of course there to help with the transition.
I woke up Friday morning at 4:00 and there they were. The night shift pouring concrete under the big lights. Brilliant. The big overhead crane hose spouting the aggregate through the rebar and pipes and into the forms. It was good work and I was proud of them.
I wince when I see one of my new friends taking a chance. Leaning far out over the edge of the building or standing under the big crane lowering a beam.
‘Safety first’, I yell at the window.
My union brothers.
Saturday morning was a skeleton crew. The guys who needed that time-and-a-half money. I imagined their wives and girlfriends and kids at home or maybe having a cookout while their men were up there on the 4th floor doing the hard work of building something solid and true.
Friday night we visited a speakeasy that Brittany had found on line. Looked better on line than it turned out to be. Service was lacking and it was noisy and not super comfortable. Just a weird vibe. Scott and Emily joined us along with Scott’s brother. By then we were just about ready to leave.
Saturday we got up early and went for runs. Separately. Brittany is faster and runs farther than I do. I did 3.5 miles. She was probably closer to 5. After, we had coffee and a snack from Lola’s European Bistro. Lovely space and good coffee. It is adjacent to a private club that is a large open garage with several Porsches, Triumph and BMW motorcycles and a Ferrari but also big leather couches and book cases.
I really want to be part of that club but it’s a 7-hour commute each way. Would be an amazing place to read, write, smoke a cigar and have a drink.
Next, we explored the city by foot, which is our way. We alternated between walking and checking out architecture and people-watching with stopping for coffee or a beer. We popped in to Tootsies and Layla’s and a few other honky-Tonk’s to listen to music. In spite of the crowds of tourists, you can feel the history in these old buildings. It’s a cool vibe and never gets old. The walls are full of pictures of the greats and almost greats. Cash, Waylon, Marty Robbin’s, Emmy Lou, Kris, HW Jr., Tom T. Hall, Haggard, Patsy, George Jones, Loretta and of course Dolly.
Many more that never quite made it to the top but put in the hard work trying.
Ground zero for a new music genre that grew out of human experiences and passion for storytelling.
These guys were hard drinking hard working musicians. They lived fast and on the edge. Playing a gig, drinking a few hours and then driving a couple hundred miles to do it again in some small town tavern.
This is Dolly’s memorial weekend so the street crossings are painted pink and they have lyrics from her songs painted on sidewalks.
We had a couple of beers and listened to bands that in any other city would be exceptional. But here there is another band just as good right next door.
There is a strange contrast between the partying women in skirts and boots they bought just for this trip, and the pure music lovers. But somehow it works. People watching and enjoying music in equal measures.
Do I know where hell is? Hell is in hello.
Heaven is in goodbye for ever, it’s time for me to go.
I was born under a wandrin’ starAlan Jay Lerner
Saturday night was Emily’s birthday party. Formal dress and nice venue. After some day-drinking and listing to music and smoking cigars we headed back to the hotel to combobulate ourselves.
We stopped in and pre-gamed at Lola’s who was having their one-year anniversary party. Again, great little place. The kind of place I wish was around every corner of my houses.
Emily likes to live large and I like her for that. Scott is more low key, hanging mostly in the background but very supportive. He’s smart and quiet to her outsized personality.
The party was a formal affair so it was suits and dresses. There was a small jazz band, a couple of girls wandering around dancing which was a little weird to be honest. But open bar and snacks and it was a beautiful night in an outdoor venue. So we made it through okay.
I won $3,800 pretend dollars on the blackjack table which is better than I do when it’s real money on the line.
We finished the night at the cookout restaurant around 1:00 am with a bunch of college kids. It’s a greasy spoon diner purpose made for late night drinkers. We had two meals and drinks for $13.39.
Nice weekend get away. But we miss Martini and are ready to get back home. Next weekend is my 80-mile bike ride along the Greenbrier River Trail. So we will be back on the road after just a few days home.
It’s the life we choose.
I’ll leave it there then.
Humbly Submitted
Robert Myres – Flanker, Portneuf Valley Rugby Football Club (ret.), writer, nomad, comic genius
