When I was a kid, I always wondered what an opry was.  I still am not sure I know, but whatever it is, it’s a whole lotta fun!  With or without crackers.

Ending the trip with what is without question the most cliched Nashville experience, Rob and I attended the Grand Ole Opry. The seats were pews, I suppose, as a sign of the worship of the music we were about to hear.

On the whole, the music was okay.  There were 6 performers, some good, one a total tool who shouldn’t be a musician much less a guy who plays at the Opry (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Big_Kenny), and a very good-looking young gentleman singer who had me in his corner until his last song*; something about the Devil is a train and don’t get on the train because then you are on the train with the Devil.  I don’t do well with metaphor.  Obvious ones, at least.

The act of the night: 89 year-old Little Jimmy Dickens.  No more than a foot taller than a lawn gnome, this venerable old performer showed us all how it should be done.  89 years old.  I can’t even bend down to pick up a towel without squealing anymore and this guy is performing on stage.

Attending the Opry was the quintessential Nashville experience and I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. 

Good-bye, Nashville.  You will be missed.

*Said singer is named Josh Turner.  He’s still a handsome young devil, and, I really like the first bunch of songs on his new CD.  So, my apologies for my initial judgment, even though I still don’t like the train thing.  Whatever.  I’m sure he doesn’t like my blog.