Bury my heart in Nashville

It was once said by an Englishwoman writer that in late life one is ready for impersonal passions. Having just turned 60, I can say this is true for me. My passions now are places and not people.My great loves are the city of Nashville, the Gulf Coast,and Reelfoot Lake. Every one of them now ruined or threatened. Edwin Warner Park, where I have walked for 30 years is closed- too dangerous after the flooding. One goes to Kroger for sandwiches and every other word overheard is loss or lost.The streets choke with pickups and dump trunks and restorers.The stores have hanging baskets of geraniums for everyone lucky enough to live on the high ground .But none of us truly live on the high ground. We are at the mercy of time and fate.I think of my African coworker Emmanuel, who lost his home on Pennington Bend. My old neighbors Allison and Elizabeth and Sam. Of John and Beverly with their cats and camellias.Best now to remember Emily Dickinson-" Hope is the thing with feathers. That perches in the soul.And sings the tunes- without the words. And never stops at all..'