Magic City

Drove to Birmingham today, and will return to Nashville tomorrow. Drove a minivan to Birmingham, to be exact. Three adults and two children in car seats means that the trusty CR-V is just too small. Verdict after three hours on the highway and some maneuvering of parking lots, etc.: there will be no purchase of a minivan for Piers.

Two things stand out from today. Both are kinda bittersweet.

The first thing is what I naturally think about coming down here, especially given the conversations I've been having with various people over the past three weeks: my college, what I learned there, the choices I made while there (and why). It's only now that I'm realizing that there were alternate futures being held out to me there, none intrinsically better than the others. But hell, what do I expect to find upon looking back from the vantage point of 15 years? Of course I see things more clearly--of course I understand my past self and his choices, his fears, much better. I loved college; I just wish I had been more of a risk-taker, less concerned about attaining the unattainable goal of perfection.

The second thing is what we went to tonight--the reason we came down here. My father-in-law, who spent thirty years as music minister to First Baptist Nashville, has been serving as an interim music minister for a church in Bluff Park. Tonight was the night of the big Christmas performance; it was the last one we'll ever see him direct. He's perfectly happy to give it up after more than thirty years, no question; I am just glad we got to watch him bounce and weave on that podium one last time.

Now, here in a hotel room with a huge LCD TV, Little Red sleeping in a portable playpen, The Little Boy torqued up on sugar in his grandparents' room, Panthers and Giants playing in a close game. I'm finally getting to that Stoppard play I've been wanting to get to. All good signs--all point to contentment, happiness. Yes, they do. Absolutely.