Glitter in the Air

I got home from Nashville this afternoon—my first overnight business trip since Bunny died.    My firm is working on a big construction case, and Brent (my partner in Oklahoma) and I were there for a deposition yesterday.  We actually arrived on Tuesday to start preparing. 

Brent is really nice and very straight-laced—a real, old-fashioned gentleman.  He’s about my age, and has three kids—two boys and a girl.  His eldest is in college and youngest is seven years old.  His wife, Janee, has homeschooled them all.  I met her back in December, and she’s pretty and just as sweet as she can be, and so tiny!  She’s about five feet tall, which surprised me, because Brent’s at least 6’2”. 

I had been to Nashville a few months before, and had told Brent about a karaoke pub crawl I’d gone on with another attorney in the case.  Brent was game for karaoke (he’d never done it before), but he’d pass on the alcohol, which was fine with me.   Since Tuesday was Mardi Gras, though, karaoke seemed to be off the Nashville menu.   We shopped the little souvenir places and boutiques along Broadway instead, picking up some Elvis-style sunglasses for Brent and trying on cowboy hats.  There are tons of hat and boot stores in Nashville.  

Last night, after a very, very long deposition, we decided to give it another shot.  We had dinner with one of the other attorneys at Morton’s Steak House (AWESOME steak!) and then walked down to 2^nd Street.  I knew from the previous night that Printer’s Alley was a bit too seedy for Brent.  Finally, we came upon the right place: Buck Wild Saloon.   Brent jumped right in, telling the waitress the Elvis song he wanted to sing.   When they called him up, he whipped out his Elvis glasses and took the stage.  He actually does a pretty good Elvis imitation—we’d visit Graceland together, so I’ve heard it—but still, I was impressed with his performance, especially for a first-timer.

A few songs later, they called up Veronica.   To Brent’s surprise, I jumped up and walked to the stage.  Bill wasn’t as surprised—he’d been on the first karaoke crawl when I’d been Jennifer.  Giving a pseudonym is part of my karaoke fun.   I sang Pink’s Bad Influence, and I later joked to Brent that I was a bad influence on him.

I liked Pink’s songs, and even had some on my iPod, but I didn’t get really into her until about five months ago.  Bunny had taped a performance of her Funhouse show; basically, it was a live performance of the album of the same name.  When he cued it up, I wasn’t overly excited, but it was going to be a lot better than the standard bigfoot/mummy/UFO/Civil War/men catching wildlife/men hunting treasure/men playing poker shows he usually watched.   We sat for the next hour or so, mesmerized by energetic Pink and her elaborate costumes and sets and acrobatics.  If you ever see it listed on your channel guide, I highly recommend it.

Bunny had very diverse, eclectic tastes in music.  Metallica was his favorite band, but he was nearly equally enamored with Celtic Women.  Johnny Cash, Dido, Leon Redbone, and Adele  also made their way into his iPod.  For awhile, he was in a folk music phase, and we went down to Sarasota for a concert.   He came up with odd concert choices—a Randy Newman event in Piedmont Park one year springs to mind—but he went along uncomplainingly to my Elton John concerts and events, so I went along to his.

I’ve loved Elton John all my life, and still do.  When we lived in Atlanta, our chances of running into him were much better, because he lived there, too.  One year, he had a closet sale at Neiman Marcus to benefit his AIDS foundation.  We both took off work and went down to Buckhead, taking positions right on the edge of the red carpet.    There were lots of other people there, too—I’d guess about 200 or so—and we all buzzed with excitement as the long, black limo came into view.  It stopped and Elton jumped out onto the red carpet, then strode directly up to me, like I’d pulled him there by sheer will.

Elton and I, who are about the same height (he may be a smidge taller), were literally standing toe-to-toe, face-to-face.   You may be thinking that, as we looked into each other’s eyes, I said something witty or admiring or grateful to the man whose music had seen me through many dark teenage days.  Alas, you’d be wrong.  For the first (and only) time in my life, I was struck speechless.  I believe I was slack-jawed, as well.  So Elton moved on, without my having uttered a word to him. 

Bunny had stood behind me the whole time, watching the scene unfold.  He thought it was hilarious!  As soon as I regained my senses, I chided him.

“Bunny!  Why didn’t you give me a nudge?  You saw I was frozen!”  Now he started hooting with laughter.

“Oh, yeah!  Just my luck, you’d have fallen over on top of him and broken his arms.  That would have really made an impression!”  If he could have rolled on the floor laughing, he would have been by that point, but the crowd was too thick.

Anyway, back to Pink.  We both loved her show, and I immediately downloaded the Funhouse album.  I still play it often, and know all the songs by heart.  She co-wrote all the songs, and the theme of the album is her separation from her husband and her feelings of grief/anger/frustration.  All the ballads on this album have special meaning for me.  In Bunny’s final hours, as he lie unconscious, Joey and I played songs for him.  Joey chose mostly country tear-jerkers about sons and fathers, while I tried to stay more upbeat with songs about love, by artists that Bunny liked.  Since Pink was on that list, and I had the whole album on my iPad, I played all of the ballads.  It was the last concert we’d watched together.  I had to search You Tube for Johnny Cash and some of his other favorites.

So on Wednesday night, Brent got up for his second Elvis song, and I picked Glitter in the Air for my mine.  If you’ve never heard it before, it’s a very sweet mid-tempo ballad.  Here’s a link to Pink (that makes me want to go all Seussian and rhyme some more—like “so take a drink and link to Pink”) performing it live (at the Grammy’s, so you’ll have to tolerate a small commercial beforehand, but it’s well worth the wait): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0GStp-Mzy_w. 

Then I (as Veronica) took the stage for my turn.  Whichever version the DJ chose was in the right key for me—I hit all the high notes without my voice breaking, and all the low ones without effort.  When I finished, I got some very enthusiastic applause.  That’s more impressive than you might think, because most of the karaoke singers in Nashville seem to be frustrated or soon-to-be frustrated professional singers looking to make it big.

On our way back to the airport this morning, we stopped at The Hermitage, Andrew Jackson’s home.  Andrew Jackson was a President who always intrigued me, probably because he was quirky and passionate and a fighter.   But his treatment of minorities was distressing, and tarnished my admiration for him.  One of the recurring themes of the tour was Jackson’s absolute devotion to his late wife, Rachel. 

Rachel had been married prior to marrying Jackson, but her divorce wasn’t official.  That situation was finally rectified, and the Jacksons married again.  However, when he ran for President, his political enemies launched a huge attack on Rachel’s character.  She died shortly before Jackson entered the White House, and he never forgave her attackers, nor stopped defending her honor.  He was widowed at 61, and died at 78 without ever remarrying.  The Hermitage is steeped in Jackson’s tributes to Rachel.

The tour was fascinating, and certainly educational, but the repeated references to Jackson and his wife left me saddened.   On my drive from the airport, I remembered the times I’d come back home to find Bunny waiting, almost child-like with enthusiasm, to see me and to find out what little trinkets I’d gotten for him on my trip.  This was the first time I’d come home to an empty house—no one impatiently waiting for my arrival.  I couldn’t help shedding a few tears.

Then, as I opened the front door, my kitties came excitedly to greet me.  Sierra was first, followed by Bono and Shiloh and Kieran.  Everyone wanted kisses and petting, and said hello in his or her own way.  I hadn’t come home to an empty house, after all: four furry little loved ones were eagerly waiting to welcome me.