Where Time Stands Still

 

There are places where time stands still, where the past and present mingle, and where all the people who ever stood there seem to have left their essence behind.  I’ve been to a few of those places - an old resort in a peaceful deserted valley, an old church with memories soaked into the walls, a deserted house with scraps of wallpaper hanging loose and a cold hearth that spoke of long forgotten fires that warmed family and friends.  I visited a place like that last week – a place haunted by the past, firmly entrenched in the present, and ready for a future as long as people love the music it embraces.

There is something about the Ryman. It probably has something to do with the century of notes soaked into the old wood floors and worn pews.  It started as a place to save souls and became a place to lift and heal souls with the power of music.  The t shirts say, “Take me to church,” and that’s just what I feel like when I sit in that auditorium.  Not many things will entice me to venture downtown to Nashville now, but this old brick building will always make the trip worthwhile.

There are newer venues with more bells and whistles, plush seating, and state-of-the-art trimmings.  But there is nothing like the worn floors and the feeling of awe.  There is nothing like the acoustics, or the views of the stage from the curved pews.  There is nothing like those stained-glass windows.  What it must be like to stand on that stage and look out at the blend of now and then, live audiences filled with anticipation and joy and ghostly audiences of the past, peering over their shoulders.

Every time I visit the Ryman, I think of the people who played there.  Young songsters with guitars full of dreams, starting their journey to fame.  Worn and weary troubadours, who had lived the hardship and heartbreak they sang about. My great-aunt, Minnie Pearl, who stood on that stage with a price tag hanging from a silly hat and lightened hearts with 50 years of laughter.

I’m not sure I believe in ghosts, but I do know that some places have an energy, or a presence about them.  The Ryman has that energy.  The entrance is new – moved to the opposite side of the building from the early days of the Grand Ole Opry.  The lobby is like other lobbies, other than the statues of Roy Acuff and Minnie Pearl just inside.  But when you walk through the tall white doors into the auditorium, you feel something. All the songs that have ever been sung on that stage hover in the air.  All the people who have performed there watch every show.  I have heard people say that there is a presence in the dressing rooms backstage and a sense of awe when they stand on that stage.

So there I sat, on a Wednesday night, waiting for the magic to begin.  The outside world drops away and three thousand people in a sold-out room find hearts connected, for a little while.  The common bond of music turns strangers into friends. And when the lights go down and the crowd begins to cheer, we are collectively transported to another world for a couple of hours.  All our senses were engaged, from the tunes in our ears to the vibrations under our feet. 

I’ve been in the Ryman when the seats are empty and not a performer is on stage.  I still felt a sense of something in the room – old souls eager for the stage to come to life again.  I can imagine all those people – Hank, Roger Miller, Jerry Reed, Bill Monroe - waiting to hear and hoping that some night, someone will play one of their songs, proving that their music is still alive. Roger Miller must have been grinning when the young son of Willie Nelson bought us to our feet with his “King of the Road” and then reached even further back into country history with “Tumbling Tumbleweed.”   The crowd is reluctant to leave – three encores are not enough, and it is not until the gold curtains sweep shut that we are willing to end the magic night. 

I attend a lot of concerts.  Inevitably, when I visit the Grand Ole Opry, in its “new” home across town, I meet people who are there for their first time.  When they ask me about my favorite venue, I never hesitate.  “The Ryman – there’s something about the Ryman,” I answer.  They nod their heads.  “It’s on my bucket list,” they say.  “Just go there,” I tell them.  When they do, they will understand why.

 

Trick or Treat

 

Trick or treat arrived today, and I don’t know what treat we failed to provide, but Mother Nature was not amused and tricked us with a killing frost.  I noticed this when I was outside at 4:00 a.m., under a waning moon, imploring six puppies to go potty.  Quickly.  It was their first experience with frosted grass and their first time to spend the night in the house since they began toddling around on their own and were moved to the outside pen. 

It was twenty-four hours of firsts for Susie, Sally, Sedric, Scotty, Sirius and Sam.  They had their first ride in the truck, their first visit to the vet and their first time in front of a fire.  Since they had been using the empty fireplace as a playground and napping spot, I was a little concerned that they might catch themselves on fire, but they seem to understand that they can’t get closer than the hearth, which is a fine place to sleep. 

I was dreading the vet trip because at least a couple will inevitably throw up on the way, but miraculously, no one did.  They protested loudly about their confinement in the crate for the first few miles, but soon fell asleep.  All but Scotty, whose puppy screams bounced all over the cab of the truck and continued in the waiting room until I took him out and held him in my lap.  Other than that, their visit went easily, and all were pronounced healthy and well-behaved. Sedric weighed a whopping eight pounds nine ounces while Sally weighed only five pounds nine ounces, with the other four falling midway between the two.  Everyone fell asleep on the way home, and I would have too, if I didn’t have to drive.  Hauling two dog crates full of puppies takes a lot out of you!

Last night, the puppies kept the dog door flapping until bedtime.  The colder temps did not seem to discourage their forays into the yard, and I made more trips outside to round them up than I wanted to, but at bedtime they settled down in the crate and peace descended.  The peace lasted until 4:00, when I started to hear activity and whining.  Outside we went, into a cold, silent moonlit night with stars spread across the sky like tiny spotlights.  The quiet filled the shadows; the only sound being the rustle of leaves under puppy feet.

And tonight is Halloween night, when the quiet cold will echo with the shouts and laughter of children, dressed as their favorite characters, flitting from house to house with cries of “trick or treat!”  Hopefully, their costumes will allow room for extra bundling to fend off the wind chill and there will be plenty of candy to reward their perseverance.  The neighborhoods in town will be festive, with just enough spooky to make the night memorable.  My collie babies will collect extra treats without going door to door, although I did experiment with tiny bat wings on two puppies.  They were not impressed at all.  Sally lay down and refused to get back up and Sam kept pulling at the elastic and growling.  At the Halloween parade this past weekend, I saw several cute dogs in costume.  These puppies are cute enough in their regular fur coats and they will be happy to nap by the fire.  Napping by the fire sounds like a pretty good plan.  I might join them.

 

Sophie's Secret

 

Somewhere my daddy and granddaddy must be just shaking their heads and laughing.  I was raised on a farm and therefore understood the birds and bee and calves and piglets from an early age.  Apparently I didn’t learn as much about puppies as I thought I did, because I was surprised by a litter of puppies last month that I had no idea were expected.

Sophie should be in the intelligence business – she could be an undercover agent.  I had no idea she was having puppies, and I still am mystified at how she and Scout managed to get together, with her in the pen and he outside the pen.  But anyway, I now have six beautiful collie puppies, an unexpected blessing.

I knew Sophie was acting strangely that Friday night – she was whining and restless and got in bed with me and wouldn’t move over.  All afternoon she had been acting like Lassie when Timmy was in the well, so much so that I actually thought something might be wrong with somebody around the house.  She finally settled down, however, and I went to sleep.  About daylight I woke up and the first thing I noticed was that Sophie was not on the bed and I could hear what sounded just like baby puppies coming from somewhere in the house.  I won’t repeat what I said, but it did propel me out of bed and into the living room where Sophie was busy licking off what turned out to be the third in a series of puppies, right there in the living room floor.

My first response was astonishment; my next response was to go in search of the kiddie swimming pool that serves as a delivery room/nursery for puppies.  It was, of course, in the most inconvenient place it could be – the very back of a very crowded woodshed that now serves as a repository for seldom used items that are too big to store anywhere else.  There I was, still in my nightshirt and slippers crawling over an assortment of bulky junk, dragging out the pool and wrestling it into my bedroom, searching the house for some newspapers and persuading Sophie that this was a better place for puppies than the floor.  By the time everyone was settled, number five made his appearance and the first four were lining up for their first breakfast, making the noise that only hungry puppies can make.  I sat back to marvel at the sight and try to convince myself that I was not a total idiot – Sophie was just too good at keeping secrets.

So now I have the joy of watching six fat collie babies grow up and find new families to love.  I always forget how fast that happens.  It seems like no time passed before tiny unfocused eyes peered at me during morning checkups.  Then, in the blink of an eye, six furry faces peeked over the top of the swimming pool at me when I woke in the mornings.  Then there was the day that, first one, then all six found out that they could pull themselves over that rim and explore the wide-open spaces of the house.  They even found the dog door and learned that it led to an even bigger world to explore.   

For obvious reasons, their exploration of the house had to be curtailed, and life outside was introduced.  Out came the big puppy pen, the doghouse and a new bag of cedar shavings.  Thankfully, the weather has been mild for mid-October and the puppies can enjoy the sunshine during the day and sleep under a heat bulb at night.  From the beginning, they have had no fear of the unknown and an insatiable desire for exploration.  One day last week, I looked up from my seat on the porch swing and saw two fat puppy butts descending from the yard steps into the great beyond.  I retrieved puppies, secured the gate and watched as they chased falling leaves and burrowed into the jungle of late blooming four-o-clocks that surround my porch.  Yesterday, three tried to follow mom up the road, making it to the mailbox before I could catch them.  Any day now, I just know they are going to follow Daddy out to the fields for his patrols, if I am not diligent in my supervision.  He loves to baby sit, now that Sophie is willing to let him help.

They have cultivated a way of scattering in all directions when set free from the pen, and there always seems to be one missing when I count noses.  Six surprise puppies from Sophie and Scout naturally called for six “s” names and so I have Sally, Susie, Scotty, Sedric, Sirius, and Sam, named in honor of my long-ago tri-color dog who will always live in my heart.  Sam was the first to figure out the dog door, and he seems determined to be a house dog instead of a farm dog.

It's an adventure that will be over all too soon.  Already a couple have new homes waiting in about three weeks.  I spend way too much time sitting on the porch, snuggling and enjoying puppy kisses, when I should be cleaning my house and pulling weeds from the flower beds.  Those things can wait.  I have puppies to love.