Our Man In Nashville
MISS ANNA, THE TEXAN DOROTHY PARKER WHOSE BLOG THIS IS, asked me to introduce myself to you, her loyal readers. I’m Jason T Sparks. I plan to write under the header “Our Man in Nashville”.
Thus, I introduce myself. ’Sup.
So. Who am I? I’m a friend of Anna’s, having met her three summers and a thousand years ago through my wife (girlfriend at the time).
I live in Nashville (if you failed to crack that code), a town not wholly unlike our hostess’s beloved Austin:
–Once populated by iconic guys who got killed at the Alamo
–island of hipness (both in the sense of “a lot of creative endeavor is pursued here” and in the sense of “there are neighborhoods full of old houses where there are a lot of hipsters and entirely too much gentrification”) in an otherwise beet-red state where folks are about God, guns, and ‘Murica
–iconic creator of something all the hip kids love lives here (at least in the popular imagination). In Austin, of course, that would be last-of-a-dying-breed cartoonist Berkely Breathed; here, that would be a skinny, pale rock star named Jack White.
Of course, that’s all where I am. I set out to establish who I am. Schlubby, middle-aged cat in an old house in an old neighborhood. One wife, 22 years and running. Three kids, ages 24, 25, and 26. 24 drives a forklift in North Carolina, has already made me a grandfather three times (sometimes he isn’t on the forklift). 25, the girl, got married last year; she plans to do case work with foster kids (as she and her brothers once were), the husband plans to minister. 26 is still at home. He’s 26 physically; mentally, closer to 8, but he strides closer to independence all the time. He’ll be out of the nest ‘ere long as well, if the training school in Wisconsin he’s looking says yes. Road trip to that end is in the offing; may send dispatches from the field.
What else? Six cats. Raging case of Asperger’s Syndrome. A 78-year-old house, which I am currently in an epic battle to keep; to learn more about that and possibly join the fight, click here.
That, in a nutshell, is me.
Next question: what am I doing here?
My first act will be, in my capacity as Our Man In Nashville, to cover one of those pursuits of creative endeavor I mentioned earlier. To the extent that my day job allows it, I’ll be covering this year’s Nashville Film Festival. Over the course of four days, I’ll see (am scheduled to see, at any rate) twelve different films, and I’ll then let you know if they’re worth a look, should they come to the art-house cinemas in your respective towns or a streaming service on an Internet near you.
After that, most likely, a travelogue, as Our Man In Nashville (and his son) leave home to visit the son’s potential school in Wisconsin. After that…anything’s possible, really. Come along. I hope you’ll enjoy it.