Despite the unmitigated joy we always feel visiting our youngest daughter, her husband and their son, our grandson, at their home in Alabama, I will never again have to make the short trip from Atlanta to Birmingham.

When Phillip graduates from his Endodonic studies and they return to Nashville, where he plans to practice, I will sell the mansion in Marietta and buy a smaller, single - level place near them, so they can visit us three or four times a year. We met with our financial guru on March 21, and it is a doable expectation.

Why Nashville? Why not? I have always wanted to be a C&W aficionado and habitué of the Grand Old Opry and the Blue Bird Café. Phillip’s sister is on the production crew at the ABC - TV series called Nashville, and my chief acting idol, Powers Boothe, has a recurring role. Besides, Tennessee has no state income tax.

The show’s mediocre writing notwithstanding, plus scenes of bad acting — especially the younger sister of Deacon, as well as the bitchy female 2nd lead whose name escapes me — they both sing fairly well (though neither can act out of a paper bag), I was genuinely surprised the series was renewed for a second season.

I think it was Phillip’s sister, Mary Faucette, who did the trick.

In any event, I will overlook a myriad of weaker talents to enjoy an hour of television that stars the pretend - wife of the pretend - coach on Friday Night Lights, Connie Britton. A dead - ringer for my Aunt Helen at twenty - five (Uncle Rollin’s wife) I would watch her even if she were cast opposite the late Victor Mature.

My own long suffering good wife, my primary care - giver, who dresses me, cuts my food, takes care of me and drives me hither and yon, while performing countless sordid tasks I can no longer perform thanks to PLS and its frustrating effects, has gone all out to keep me from destroying myself.

She is more than amenable to leaving Georgia for Tennessee and establishing permanent residence in a one - story - stairless abode where I will have little chance of falling down and doing further damage to my ancient and brittle bones. (A place similar to my daughter and son - in - law’s home in Birmingham.)

Of course, if we are going to move, we may as well be closer to children and grandchildren than lost in the pedestrian humdrum of Georgia.

My good wife would much rather be anyplace on Earth where she can get her hands on grandson Hutson (his two - year - old inability to say Grandma and Grandpa has been replaced, for a few years, with Gobby and Bompa. Bompa must come naturally, as it is what my most perspicacious grandchildren call me, anyway.)

Funny how Life thrives on things like that.



Robert A. Mills
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