*CA*
Can I go back to Nashville?
I am unashamed to admit that I am listening to a recording of Oscar Peterson the jazz pianist while thinking about country songs. It is all Barnaby’s fault, poor Barnaby, and perhaps also Christine’s fault, for loving Barnaby so much, and we can be pretty certain that they’d both blame the snow.
The jazz goes well with the rumbling traffic outside and the voices ordering their flat whites to go, but it doesn’t have lyrics. This picture of Barnaby the boy from Nashville is all about lyrics; sad, sad, woebegone lyrics. Nashville and country music are all about the everyday tragedies of broken lives. So I am shutting my mind to the twinkly tinkling of Peterson’s piano and I’m thinking about sad country music instead.
We found him at the Nashville S.P.C.A…We could see that he had heart-worm…We knelt down beside him in Connecticut snow… just to see his loving eyes confirm. “I love ya’ll and I love my home… I love my bed, till the day I go… I love my friend’s cold, wet, nose… But Christine, you will never, ever, get me to love the Connecticut snow.”
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