October 8, 2013 – The Tennessee Stud
My uncle
once told me he was going to sing The
Tennessee Stud at my wedding. It’s this song that’s on my mind as I head
out of Oregon—by foot, bus, train, car, plane—towards Nashville.
I'm on my
way to meet a friend for the first time in person. Only days before this I’d read
an article about how social networking sites prevent people from having
meaningful face-to-face interaction, true relationships, and can serve to mask real
personality. After all, a person can create the character they want to be when
they have time to think through responses, set up for a video chat, play games from
the comfort of their own couch, post the photos that represent who they want to
be. What we end up with is a virtual world with self-created virtual people.
And yet, within
all that webbing there is also the real world. A real person on the other end
of the line. The Internet, and even those cursed social networking sites, can allow
connection to people from all countries and walks of life. I’ve found this to
be true.
Case in
point, Nicole, who picks me up from Portland Union Station and takes me to the
airport where we sit and talk for a few hours before she has to get on with her
day and I have to go through security to catch a flight, and I had met three
years ago in New York City when I'd gone there with another friend I'd also met
online. We were all linked by the commonality of raw food and our individual
quests for health. Now, years later and with all kinds of superfoods between
us, she and I meet up again on the opposite coast and catch up in person on all
the things we couldn't read between the lines in status updates and from photo
albums. Friendship. Isn't that the spice of life?
The color of the sun and his eyes were green.
Country
music is playing over the speakers at the Nashville airport. It seems only
fitting. I wait for the obnoxious, beeping alarm and the following whir of the
baggage claim track to start up as I text my friend to tell her I’ve arrived. I'm
singing along, out loud, to the song when across the room I see a familiar
face, one I've only ever seen before from the illuminated wall of my computer
screen. I shrug my backpack into place, tuck my phone away, and head her direction.
It’s go
time. That tricky moment when the virtual and real collide. The moment when we
discover if we like each other as people in addition to our online personas.
The moment when I wonder if four days is too long for a visit.
He had the nerves and he had the blood.
But I
shouldn't have worried, we hit it off like gangbusters.
It's not my
first time to Tennessee, but it is my first time to Nashville. Erin and her
husband take me on a tour of downtown where I see the Symphony Hall and the Songwriters Hall of Fame, cross the new bridge over the river and see the
skyline with the glow of the sun beating down on us. We drive by the bar that’s
featured in the TV show Nashville
which I’ve heard of but haven’t seen. The next day Erin and I take a walk
through the tree-lined neighborhoods with two-story brick homes that hint of
old money and past time. Later, we all drive into the countryside and hike down
to where the old Montgomery Bell Forge used to churn itself around at the
Narrows of the Harpeth.
And all the
while we talk.
When we sit
in the chairs under the tree in the front yard warding off mosquitoes and
watching the leaves fall gently around us. When we take turns at the stove to
make dinner. When we venture out to the life-size replica of the Parthenon
which I’d only just learned about the week before. When we sit at the kitchen
table with our coffee in hand. When we visit Radnor Lake. When we drive by the
old prison where The Green Mile was
filmed and I get yelled at by the security guard for taking pictures. When we
stand with our feet deep in the backyard grass and listen to the kids play in
the schoolyard next door. When we go out with her friends to dinner at a Turkish
restaurant and talk about past life regression, astrology, psychology, our
childhoods, music, food, and how each of them knows the other, how I know Erin.
As I listen
to the table chatter I think about this with regard to the article because it was
both right and wrong, the Internet can limit and the Internet can expand the
world.
At a break
in the conversation Erin and I catch each other’s glance and grin. I’m all for
world expansion and I’m glad I can now add Erin to my list of “have met in
person” friends. I’m glad she invited me to visit. I’m glad the convoluted
lines of travel brought me this way.
I’m
partially listening to three simultaneous conversations as I follow my own
thoughts down the “How did you meet?” trail. Maybe it’s simply my writer’s
curiosity for details that makes me think it’s an interesting question for any
connection--friends, lovers, long lost family, enemies--what brought you two
together?
A chance
encounter, online chat rooms, a blind date set up by friends, common locations,
mutual friends, mutual interests, an animal-led meeting at the dog park, work
proximity, a wedding. Speaking of that, I may never get married. Or I may. But if
I find that special someone online (or offline) there’s worse things that can
happen to me than having my uncle sing Jimmie Driftwood’s song to commemorate
the occasion.
Because after all,
There never was a horse like the Tennessee
Stud.
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