John Hardcastle, 1936-2011

HARDCASTLE, John Bachman. October 6, 2011. Born July 22, 1936.  Preceded in death by his parents, Kendrick Crossman Hardcastle, Jr. and Elizabeth Bachman Hardcastle; brother, Kendrick Crossman Hardcastle III; and nephew, Kendrick Crossman Hardcastle IV. Survived by his wife of 52 years, Frances Keltner Hardcastle; sons, John Bachman Hardcastle, Jr. (Stephanie), MacDonald Keltner Hardcastle (Emily), and Wilson Gaut Hardcastle; grandchildren, Bradley William Hardcastle, Ellen Merritt Hardcastle, and Leland Keltner Hardcastle; sister-in-law, Mia Canaris Hardcastle; and nephew Christiansen Niels Hardcastle.

John married the former Frances Merritt Keltner on September 26, 1959. Fran was the love of his life, confidant, and dance partner for 52 years, and with her he raised three sons: Jay, Mac, and Wilson. A family friend, Joe Calvin, gave John the nickname “Papa John” while Joe was in high school, and the name stuck – he was known as Papa John to his children’s close friends and his three grandchildren, Bradley, Ellen and Leland.

Outside of his family, John’s greatest joys in life were his involvement with his church,  his active participation in outdoor life, and studying local history. John was a member of Westminster Presbyterian Church, where he served as a deacon, an elder, a Sunday School teacher, and Clerk of the Session. John served as the moderator of the Presbytery of Middle Tennessee, was a commissioner to the 213^th General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church (USA), and served on the advisory board of Columbia Theological Seminary.

In a 1990 letter addressed to the then senior pastor of Westminster, John wrote “I stand in awe of God’s creative power and take seriously the stewardship implied in the grant of dominion over the earth, its growing things and creatures.” Because of his appreciation for creation, John loved the outdoors, and enjoyed hiking, backpacking, and long horseback rides. He was particularly proud of his efforts at conservation and saw these efforts as an extension of his faith. He served two terms as President of Friends of Warner Parks and received its Best Friend Award.

John served two terms as a member of the Conservation Commission of the State of Tennessee and one term as its chairman. He was one of the four citizen members of Governor Alexander’s Safe Growth Team and a member of the Tennessee Outdoors Commission. For more than a decade, he served as a trustee of the Tennessee Chapter of the Nature Conservancy, and three terms as its chairman. He received the Nature Conservancy’s National Oak Leaf Award for effective leadership and outstanding service. John was active in the effort to save Radnor Lake from commercial development and served for a number of years on the board of Friends of Radnor Lake. During the mid 1990s, John and his youngest son Wilson founded the informal Full Moon Walking Society, leading unique hikes and monthly walks though the Warner Parks on the Tuesdays closest to the full moon. 

John enjoyed local history and civic affairs. He was a director of the Tennessee Historical Society, served four years as its president, and was a significant contributor to The Tennessee Encyclopedia of History and Culture. John frequently addressed school and civic groups on Tennessee history, often in period attire and sometimes notably in the persona of James Robertson.  He served as a commissioner on the Metropolitan Historical Commission and was an alumnus of Leadership Nashville. In 1976, he participated in the reenactment of the 1779 flatboat trip lead by John Donelson from Kingsport to the banks of the Cumberland River settlement that ultimately became Nashville.  

John enjoyed story-telling and southern folklore, and was particularly fond of the Jack Tales, a collection of Appalachian folk tales that he often told over campfires to audiences of scouts, adults, and lucky passersby.

John graduated from Montgomery Bell Academy in 1954, where he was president of the student body in his senior year. He graduated from Vanderbilt University in 1958 and the Stonier Graduate School of Banking in 1972.  He began his banking career at the Nashville Bank & Trust Company, which later became known as Nashville CityBank. John concluded his banking career as Vice Chairman of the Board at Dominion Bank of Middle Tennessee in order to become president of the H.G. Hill Realty Company. While at H.G. Hill, he spearheaded the development of the property on Post Road in Nashville now known as Hill Place, lead the redevelopment of parts of Hillsboro Village,  and at the end of his career was involved in the early planning of the redevelopment of the H.G. Hill grocery store property on Hillsboro Road into the open air pedestrian shopping mall known as Hill Center.

Honorary Pallbearers:  John Amidei, Thomas G. Andrews, William L. Bainbridge III, E. Warner Bass, Wentworth Caldwell, Jr., James S. Frazer III, James W. Granbery, Robert E. Harwell, Jr., Harold E. Jackson, Jr., Richard W. Lenderman, Joseph P. McAllister, George F. McCanless, Jr., Neil C. Parrish, Edwin P. Voss, William M. Ward, John S. Warner, M.D., W. Ridley Wills II, and C. Prim Wood, Jr.

Pallbearers: James H. Armistead III, William G. Bainbridge, James F. Baxter, Jr., Joseph H. Calvin III, Scott W. Campbell, William G. Crook II, Charles K. Evans, Carrington N. Fox, T. Hartley Hall V, Christiansen N. Hardcastle, Jonathan M. Harwell, Elizabeth R. James, Margaret P. McAllister, W. Paul Wallace and J. Sloan Warner, Jr., M.D.

A Service of the Witness to the Resurrection will be held at Westminster Presbyterian Church at 2:30 PM on Monday, October 10, 2011, with a visitation with the family at the church preceding the service, beginning at 11:30 AM.

Memorial gifts may be made to Westminster Presbyterian Church or Friends of Warner Park, earmarked for the renovation of the historic WPA-era shelters in which John shared many stories and rested during many walks.

Funeral arrangements by Mount Olivet Funeral Home and Cemetery.

gay bashing back on the Nashville council agenda

The Nashville Scene has the most in-depth coverage of Nashville news, so much more so than the daily papers. This time, Jeff Woods examines if Nashville is finally ready for even the smallest of legal professional protections for gay and lesbian citizens.

The folks I see when I go home all seem to be intelligent, reasonable people. These must be the only reasonable individuals of the 625,000 people in the city limits (MSA: 1.5 million). Fire, brimstone, ignorance and prejudice appear to still be the primary crops of Middle Tennessee.

You know, after pot.

From the article:

"As a representative of Metro government, I think it's an embarrassment that we don't already have this law to protect employees," says Megan Barry, the bill's sponsor, who was elected to an at-large council seat in 2007. "This is not cutting edge stuff. These protections have become, if anything, common and mainstream."

Yet in 2003, when then Metro Council member Chris Ferrell introduced a similar bill, Nashville went berserk. (Ferrell is now CEO of SouthComm, which owns the Nashville Scene.) Psychotic preachers staged protests outside the courthouse, decrying this "ploy to place government approval upon the monstrous sins of Hell-bound sodomites." Good times. The bill was defeated at a torturous council meeting, with the vice mayor at the time—the star-crossed Howard Gentry—casting the dramatic tie-breaking vote.

"It was ugly," says Gentry, who still agonizes over his dilemma. "That was probably one of the low points in our city's history."

What happened that night at the courthouse was shameful to many people. The venom from the anti-gay opposition was a little too reminiscent of ugly scenes from the civil rights era. It raised a bothersome question: Are we a city of bigots?

[snip]

"I don't know why this wouldn't pass," she says matter-of-factly, as if she were discussing a resolution that honors puppies. "I don't know why everyone wouldn't stand firm on this one."

To be sure, evangelicals are pitching fits this time too. The Tennessee chapters of the Rev. James Dobson's Family Action Council and Phyllis Schlafly's Eagle Forum are orchestrating an email campaign to bombard the council with glimpses of the horrors to come. A sample: The ordinance would force people to use courthouse rest rooms in the company of cross dressers, and it would require the city to pay for sex-change operations.

"It's unfortunate, but there's a segment of the population that hates us more than taxes," says Chris Sanders of GLBT advocacy group the Tennessee Equality Project. "This is just about hiring, firing and promotion, but according to our opponents, the apocalypse is going to turn on what Metro Council does."

That's no exaggeration of the evangelical point of view. In a call-to-arms email only last week, the Family Action Council of Tennessee warned, "This is a very dangerous path for the city to take."

"Let me be clear," wrote David Shelley, FACT's director of church and community relations, "Family Action of Tennessee does not 'hate homosexuals.' Our opposition to this bill is out of love and compassion for the homosexual community as well as the rest of Nashville. It is not 'loving' for government to approve of or protect a sexual lifestyle that is clearly unhealthy and a perversion of God's natural design for intimacy, marriage and procreation (Genesis 1, 19, Leviticus 18, 20, Romans 1, I Corinthians 6, I Timothy 1, etc.).

"While it may be 'politically correct' to adopt this type of ordinance in our modern culture," Shelley continued, "no civilization in human history has survived after legally approving of same-sex marriage." Actually, the pending ordinance has nothing to do with legalizing same-sex marriage. But let's not bog down in details.

I like to think the best of my Tennessee Volunteers, but I have a lifetime of empirical evidence to suggest I should not expect it.

Lakation, gotta get away

So it's been a week since the wonderful vacation back home to spend quality time with the family and chill on the lake.

And quality time we had.

I am far enough away as it is, and with the hustle and bustle of our lives, my family is rarely together, all of us, for any amount—width or depth—of time. Even though I am the only one who does not live in the same town.

Emily, Brother Mac's wife, has access to her family's lake house and tries to invited us all to get together down there for a week every summer. We have not all been there together since my first and only previous trip in 2002. I had just quit my job at the bank, and was about to enter grad school for the MLIS.

Seems like a life time ago. I had my first digital camera, and took some of my favorite photos that trip.

I also tried to drop a ski and ended up injuring myself severely, with months of physical therapy to follow. Between that lingering injury, and all the broken stuff in my foot, I did not ski this trip.

But then, none of us did. We were content to cruise the lake and chill in the summer heat on the pontoon boat (what my mother and her friends always referred to as the "float boat," I imagine as opposed to the companion "ski boat").

My first night there I snapped this image,

because it reminded me so much of these images I remembered from the 2002 visit.





Armed with my new Fuji Finepix, I managed to get some good shots this year too:




















And now for the commentary. There were many stories, but it's late, I'm tired, I'm half watching the Olympics, and I've got more work to do before I go to bed.

First off, it was like Africa hot. But with twice the humidity. Our first day down there we dared ventured out only for a few moments before breathing was difficult. After the torrential southern thunderstorm, the afternoon was nice.

The mosquitoes weren't too bad. At least to me. Jay and Mom were eaten alive. In the birdbath on the front porch (why is there a birdbath on a lake?), Bradley and Ellen found mosquito larvae just waiting to grow up and bite us.

We did not give them the opportunity.

Secondly, the only other constant (than the heat) was the cuteness of nephew Leland. I don't know how Emily and Mac do it. That kid is in constant motion and demands constant attention. He is also exceptionally well-mannered, quiet, and fun to be around. But he is into everything.

In one of his "sing and sign" classes, he's learned some ASL, including the sign indicating that he needs changing. He make the "change me" sign, and when he's laid down he puts his legs in the air and cooperates until he's done. (Seriously, no comments.)

The sunsets were beautiful:

If not as neon as the last trip:

It was also the week before the Darryl Worley Tennessee River Run: a week-long series of concerts and other events (kicking off with a fish fry!) benefiting area medical centers. I've always loved the Tennessee River Run song and video, mostly because it's catchy, Darryl's hot, and it's about and filmed on Pickwick lake, where we were. Darryl is from these parts, and has certainly given back to the community--having funded a chemotherapy clinic (otherwise folks have to drive for hours to Memphis or Chattanooga), children's medical services, and other local needs.

We were more interested in a personal celebration: a happy 72nd birthday for Papa John!



Papa John and all his Children
Now for the cattier comments:

Wow with the UT (University of Tennessee) fandom. I couldn't even tell you where the nearest campus is. I only consider Knoxville the real UT, and we were nowhere close.

But there was UT orange everywhere.

Bradley noticed this UT orange boat next to a black and yellow/gold boat: possibly UT versus Vandy.

But we imagined the orange boat was definitely for UT, and the yellow and black was just a yellow and black boat.

Other items of note on display:

And it's not a water bottle:

It's O2Cool's "Personal Hydration System."

It's a water bottle with a straw.

Despite my weight loss last year, I've gained some of it back and on this lake was feeling very much like Fatty Fatty Two By Four. Some of the other guys on the lake made me feel thin by comparison.

But another percentage of guys on the lake all looked like this:

Ouch.

(He's plenty big, but you can click to embiggen.)

And Brother Jay was hilarious. Brother Mac would have cringed and hidden. I was trying to get shots of Muscle Man by pretending to take photos of Brother Jay. Brother Jay totally played along and went out of his way to get me the best shots.

That's my kind of enabler.

Then there was the gas station/convenience store/beer barn which, according to Mac, took advantage of the fact that state lines bisected the building and the liquor laws were therefore suspect.

They sold beer you could take with you on the boat (the drop-in was behind the building).

On tap.

You order your beer by the gallon and half gallon, and they'll fill milk jugs for you.

"You can get a Sportsman's Brew. It's just like Coors Light but cheaper!"

Tasting like Coors Light was apparently a good thing.

And what is a good gas station/boating beer barn without lots and lots of dead animal heads on the wall.

And please note Grampa Jones there on the right. Seriously—he looked like a time traveler from the prospectin' days.

And lastly (not in the gas station), hand-written directions on the bathroom dryer for those who have so far been unable to crack that technology, or read pictographs.

I do have to write about the best restaurant in the area, its super kind owners and staff, and honestly the best steak I have ever had.

Those are some special people, and their restaurant is a special place, and they deserve their own post.

As does Sparkle Josh who also made an appearance over the weekend.

But for now, there's the take from the lake.

A good time was had by all.



Full flickr set, and the best of.

And for the next six months or so, photos will be up in the Mac Gallery, which is prettier and more fun.

bitch and wine, part II

I've ranted before on the whole corrupt "can't buy wine in a grocery store in Tennessee" thing.

And it continues. And Cousin Barry seems to be out in front.

From the local (Nashville) ABC affiliate:



The legislator says, "This is a complicated issue."

NO, actually. It's NOT.

There are only two arguments for keeping wine out of grocery stores:

(1) Financial-the lobby of those with a monopoly on wine sales and distribution would lose money if re-opened to retail competition.

(2) Religious: Small-town and small-minded Christianists think that alcohol is evil and will destroy families, therefore should be able for sale but not conveniently or where people sell food. Wait, sorry, beer is just fine. But wine? Eeeeeviiiiiil. (Only book-learnin' liberal commies drink wine anyway.)

Neither point should hold any legal merit. And on top of it all, the prohibition is anti-American.

It's against freedom of choice, freedom of (and from) religion, free markets, free market-capitalism, and just the freedom to pick up a bottle of freakin' wine when I buy the steaks instead of driving across town and making another stop. (It's even anti-environment!) And the freedom of all retailers to offer the same products should they choose to.

Selling wine in a grocery store is not a complex issue at all, and it's embarrassing that the Tennessee legislature thinks it is. Of course, the money from these lobbies and special interest groups is legendary, as is the corruption of the typical Tennessee legislator.

UPDATE: This e-mail just in from Cousin Barry—

I would like to bend your ear for a quick second to tell you about an important issue that you may have seen in the news recently. The sale of wine in food stores has tremendous consumer support. I have been a supporter of Red White and Food since the first days of the campaign last year. Yesterday - I went to Capital Hill and spoke to a Wine Study Committee about this hot topic. There are thousands and thousands more Tennesseans like me who believe this change is possible in our state. This won't be my last time I go to the Capital to speak. The Wine Study Committee will likely meet again in November and at the first of the year. I will need you to attend with me. It is important to just be there in the audience and let them know we are watching. I will let you know a date and time - let's be ready to make ourselves known personally.

I am president of the newly formed Red White and Food Voters Political Action Committee. Here is where I need your help today.

PACs normally accept money from a small group of people, e.g. executives in a particular type of business. The Red White and Food Voter PAC is different. All the money we raise will come from everyday consumers who want more choice.

If you would like to be able to buy a bottle of wine in food stores - please go to www.redwhiteandfood.com and donate and join TODAY! We can accept contributions from anyone who wants wine sales in retail food stores. You decide - even if it's just $5. Legislators will be paying as much attention to how many people give as how much they give.

Tell your friends.
Thank you.

TN Governor loves bigotry more than good business

In are you fking kidding me?! news, the governor of Tennessee has signed a state law overriding and eliminating Nashville's equal rights and non-discrimination ordinance, and banning any and all other municipalities from taking any measures to protect LGBT citizens from discrimination unlawful for any other group, minority or citizenry.  The backwater redneck Christianist wingnuts pretty much make up all of the non-urban areas and self-identify as both Republican and sanctimonious (not that they can spell sanctimonious mind you), and with the exception of the four urban areas, the Tennessee legislature is ruled by these King James Bible-tumping backwater bigots, aka Tennessee Republicans.

And my Nashville family continues to wonder why I don't want to move home.

lakation

I decided not to take a trip to Scotland this summer as they are busy wiping their backsides with the dollar.

So I'm off for a more reasonable vacation and will be spending the next week with the family at the lake. Pickwick, where Tennessee, Alabama, and Mississippi come together, is pretty rural. It's like an hour to get to the Winn-Dixie. And it's beautiful down there.

There will be no phones, no cell service, and no Internet.

So no blogging.

Y'all have a good week!


It's a Tennessee River Run.

Nashlantis!

What is being called the May Day Flood in Middle Tennessee has killed at least five and washed out most of Nashville and the surrounding counties. CNN has footage of school buildings floating, and streaming fast, down Interstate 24. The destruction all over the area is devastating. No word yet from Mom and Dad about our house.

I'm getting my truly local news from Facebook—whose houses are okay, whose are damaged, and whose are gone. It's insane.

You know that when the churches and the gay bars are closed, there is some serious floodmageddon.

Friend of the Blog and photographer Carolyn Hall posted some photos around our neighborhood. Major roads are still underwater, and she reported emergency BOATS racing past her at one point.

Richland Creek, not far from my parents.

More Richland Creek.

Harding Road at Lynnwood Boulevard (again my parents' neighborhood).
Carolyn reported a car was submerged just up Lynnwood (to the right)

This is White Bridge Road at Charlotte,
where Richland Creek goes "under" Charlotte.

Also via Carolyn is this video from her friend of a branch of creek about 100 yards from my parents house. "Creek" no so much anymore.



More "user-submitted" video clips of flooding at CNN's iReport here.

Downtown should be okay. According to Nashville Historian David Ewing on the Facebook page "the Nashville I Wish I Knew", after the Great Christmas Day Flood of 1926 (rare photos are posted), Tennessee build levees and Percy Priest Dam to control the Cumberland River.

Also in the national news: Nashville friend Dabney was one of the visitors evacuated in Times Square, just feet from her hotel actually, for several hours last night while police defused a major bomb in an SUV.

Update: Just talked to Mom. Basement flooded (my comic books!) and pipes burst. Neighbors underwater. Over 42,000 people, including my brother and his family, without power (they are a bit stir crazy with a toddler and no coffee, or elevator). All Interstates and schools are closed. My nephew reports that at his high school, the water is up past the cross bar of the goal posts on the football field. That's eight feet. Cars are still strewn all over town, underwater. Mostly in my parents' part of town.

Mother said "the rain is suppose to stop once it stops." (Which I understand.) However, everything is saturated so there is no where for the water to go other than eventually down the rivers. It is supposed to be sunny all week. The field will be wet on Saturday, and with all the water and the hot sun, Nashville is going to be humid if not downright steamy.

Shilpa better pack the shellac for her hair.

Another Update: Wow. more than 25% the annual rainfall in two days. More than 12" in 24 hours. Everything is wiped out. Wet wet wet.

Via Nephew Bradley:


Another Update: From John Moss in Nashville: "If the rainfall in Nashville had been snow, it would be 12.5 feet! Two days in, the wettest May ever in Nashville, They are evacuating MetroCenter as one of the levees appears to be breaking. Over 600 water rescues today, following 100's yesterday in Nashville alone."

He also posted this pic from down the street from my parents':

"This will give you an idea of the destruction: this was a car I saw that had been washed
off the road on Harding Place in front of the Belle Meade indoor tennis center.
I saw several cars that had been washed off of Harding Road
along the railroad tracks between Hillwood & Belle Meade."

And from Mary McGee:

Hit me.

Some time over the weekend the blog passed 50 thousand hits. That's pretty crazy for this silly little thing. I do love doing it though. I need a creative writing outlet, and it's nice to have a forum for my rambling that people can ignore if they like rather than my venting indiscriminately around town.

But hey, 50 thousand hits! At least some of y'all are clearly entertained.

Every now and again I check the blog stats. Part of StatCounter's free services is a log of search terms that lead people to the blog. before the fourth of July weekend I was dismayed to see several visitors had used the string "David Britt murder." DB is a good friend of mine and I had to check to make sure he was okay. It turns out there is an oold case in Tennessee about a murder named David Britt and he got out or was killed or something. It was in the news somewhere, and some interested folks came looking here for information (I talk about Nashville, Tennessee, and David Britt, just not the one they were looking for.)

There have been some other colorful search terms in the log. Like this one:


Who knew someone would look to me for "vagina waxing" salons in Tucson? (And at least technically speaking, I hope it's not actually the vadge that's getting the wax, just the forest leading to the village.)

And just the other day, there was this. You can guess what caught my eye, but I have no idea what page it would bring up.


However you got here, welcome.

And if I ever find myself in a situation involving Robert Redford and a dildo, I'll be sure to blog about it.

right foot red

I called my parents last night, just for the usual "Hi, how are you? Love you. Just checking in." sort of call.

Mom answered. And in surprisingly good spirits, considering.

They were in the basement with the cell phone, cordless phone, flashlights and emergency radio.

There were some serious storms through the south last night, and tornadoes across Tennessee.

And in their neighborhood.

There's the "Tornado Watch" coverage, which means conditions are perfect for twisters and we're on the lookout. And then there is "Tornado Warning" coverage, which means we've spotted tornadoes. They're here. They're seriously fucking people up. We're tracking them on radar and in the field, so pay attention.

Last night they were listening to the latter. Well, Mom was. She's got like three emergency weather band radios stationed throughout the house. Dad was reading the paper.

The radio and television stations broke in to exclaim, "If you live in [my parents' neighborhood], get to your safe place NOW!"

From this morning's SFGate wire story on the storm: "Twenty-six people were killed in Tennessee, 13 killed in Arkansas, seven killed in Kentucky and four killed in Alabama."

More on this later.

Sweet.

My super awesome and diminutive niece turned 16 in May and I flew in just in time for her family birthday dinner.  She is so non-materialistic and charmingly low key, so shopping for her can be a challenge—so after she opened her presents, I offered her a shopping trip of her choice in case there was something she really did want.  It was a present for me too as I got to spend some quality time with her and talk about her life, school, boys, what's the what these days.  She broached the topics of teen drinking and gay-friendly attitudes herself, both topics of keen interest to me.  Some of her friends, and a lot of kids from another high school, got up super early to protest outside the State Captiol against the "can't say gay" bill (can't mention any sexuality other than heterosexuality in Tennessee schools) which just passed a TN Senate committee.

I loved taking Ellen shopping, but felt awkward at Forever 21 trying to manage the "I'm your fun uncle participating in the teen fashion selection" and not looking like "creepy guy in the teen girl store in the mall."  And not looking at the high school boyfriends of these girls who were little A&F models.

Family dinners are always fun and I loved it, and how little Leland bowled past Franna and Papa John to run into Uncle Wilson's arms.

Ellen is very musical, plays piano, writes her own songs and such—and for her birthday asked for a ukulele.  Franna gave her a nice one, and reminded us that growing up, Mom used to play the ukulele all the time.  So awesome.  Had I had the known, I might have asked Seattle Bill if he could have gotten his good friend Charo to sign it for her.

Happy birthday Ellen!




And, while I'm at it, here's some mockery of the above mentioned Tennessee Republican "Can't Say Gay" nonsense:

The Daily Show With Jon Stewart	Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c
We're Here, We're Queer, Get Newsed to It
www.thedailyshow.com
Daily Show Full Episodes Political Humor & Satire Blog The Daily Show on Facebook

Overheard backlog

I've had bits of paper with notes scrawled on them accumulating in my pockets. Always listening for that unusual turn of phrase, here are some strange overheards I've been meaning to share.

----
Older nurse on hooking up with men who might have an STD: “That’s what the lemon juice is for. Back in my day, you squeezed a lemon in your hand then grabbed their dangle. If they screamed they had an open sore and you wouldn’t f*ck them.”

I’m thinking if you did that and they screamed you wouldn’t have trouble telling them they weren’t getting any. They’d be running away in pain anyway.

----
From a hair stylist in the bar, sporting yet another crazy but attractive new look: “I’m a fashion stylist. I’m not going to wear the same hair twice.”

----
For the Department of Phrases You Rarely Hear-
In a bar in Tennessee, on the topic of parents, particularly southern parents, and dealing with grown children’s homosexuality and relationships: “Luckily, I don’t have to deal with any of that. Thank God my parents are dead.”

----
Also in a bar in Tennessee: “There was something wrong with the cooling system and it was going to cost a fortune to fix. She looked at it and took care of it in five minutes. Man, you’ve got to love a tranny who knows cars.”

----
Found scribbled on a cocktail napkin from months ago:
“We’re going to Minnesota for the summer. We’re thinking of having some sort of stripper or naked waiters party. Can you imagine a hustler with all his teeth for only $100? That place is a bargain.”

Thanks to the GOP, Tennessee is officially the new stupid

How far will the Tennessee GOP go? Sigh.

The GOP-controlled State legislature has come up with the following over the past year: Pro-bullying of gay kids bill, don't-say-gay bill, guns in bars, displaying the ten commandments next to the constitution in state buildings, teaching biblical creationism in schools, "no saggy pants" in schools, protecting proselytizing to kids in school, and now preventing business from prohibiting firearms on their own property.

You know you're scraping the bottom of the liberty barrel when Iran has more personal liberty and progressive religion.

With all this sanctimony and gun masturbation, you would think there are no other issues before the body politic. How's that economy going? Corruption? Pollution? Education? Nope, all still suck.

Tennessee: Call us Missibama

Nothing but more shame for my home state of Tennessee. The state legislature is well on their way to surpassing Mississippi and Alabama in bigotry and institutionalized ignorance. It's like they are competing in a competition to be the most arrogantly stupid and backwater so Jesus will love them bestest. "We're bigots who hate science! That makes us Christianer than you!"

This year the state went out of their way to override and strip metropolitan areas from the LGBT equality protections they had already enacted, and they keep pushing for approval of the "can't say gay" in schools bill.

And now: they've passed a law to teach "creationism" as science in schools.

And they still shoot down any effort to allow wine sales in the grocery store. (And don't even think about selling liquor. Praise Jeebus.)

They way things are going, their next act will be to change the state flag to a movie still from Deliverance.

making history

Sent in from Alert Reader Holly. From the Metropolitan Historical Commission Newsletter, November 2011:

MHC Updates
Remembering John Hardcastle
As many of you know, John B. Hardcastle, a former member of the Metropolitan Historical Commission, died in October. Mr. Hardcastle joined the commission in July 2003. He was a devoted and active member of the commission for many years. A long-time advocate for the preservation and protection of our community’s cultural and natural resources, Mr. Hardcastle served as President of Friends of Warner Parks, board member for Friends of Radnor Lake, Director and President of the Tennessee Historical Society, Trustee and Chairman for the Tennessee Chapter of the Nature Conservancy, and numerous other roles with additional organizations. Thank you, John, for your service to our commission, and to our city!

bitch and wine

This issue has always pissed me off. I could fall into a long commentary/rant now but I won't. I think the most succinct summary of the issue would be: corruption, corruption, corruption, as it has always been. (I love my home state, and continually feel nothing but shame for its politicians and the legislature. See also.)

Basically, Tennessee law not only prohibits wine and liquor sales in grocery stores, but prohibits wine or liquor from being sold in the same store or even space as beer—or even mixers (so one has to drive to two stores to buy gin and tonic)—and requires all alcohol products to go through an entirely artificial wholesaler industry, which tacks own their own tariffs to prices before products can hit retail shelves.

By this situation:

• One can't buy a bottle of wine while shopping for dinner.
• If you drive to the liquor store for wine or liquor, buying limes, juices, soda, and other mixers require an additional trip somewhere else.
• If you drive to the liquor store to stock up on wine or liquor (for the bar, a party, personal use, catering etc.) a beer run also requires another trip.
• If you visit wine country, as an individual or a wine shop, the winery cannot ship your selections back to Tennessee or to your shop, because it has to go through an artificial middleman first. Special orders from small wineries or breweries are out to, unless you go through the middlemen.
  

It's all sorts of fucked up. And has been for, according to my dad, basically ever.

Why?

• Rural legislators who are or represent hypocritical pious Christianists who want to make it as difficult as possible for the public to buy the devil's temptation of wine and liquor. (Beer, apparently, has been conceded.)
  
• Insane amounts of money thrown at politicians by the beer interests to keep the competition of wine away from grocery and convenience stores.
• Insane amounts of money thrown at politicians by the wholesaler lobby who want to keep making a fortune of an unnecessary middleman operation.

Brother Mac gets even more riled about this than I do. I see it as an obstruction to free trade and a violation of church and state (because the most cited reasons for this situation are religious, not to mention the "can't buy booze on Sunday" ridiculousness).

And now this in the Tennesseean: Bill to allow wine in grocery stores fails

Ugh.

Tennessee Titans

Someone forwarded this link to me with the question, "Does this make you then son of a titan?"  This is The Nashville Scene's 2011 In Memoriam spread of the influential and notable people who will be missed ("Titans" is the word they used.).  My father, John Hardcaslte, tops the list under Business.  Betty Brown, all around awesome person and mother to my good friends Susannah, Nina and Eliza (and Martin 3), tops the list under Connectors.  Both passed this year, and both from the same kind of Parkinson's.  We've been through a lot and loss together.  And Nashville is the less for their moving on.

Business

JOHN HARDCASTLE
1936-2011
Real estate titan, H.G. Hill Co.

By Bruce Dobie

John Hardcastle combined a banker's manners with a historian's intellect, and that mix produced one hell of a delightful and agreeable man. With his wife, Fran, he was firmly planted in Aulde Nashville social circles, but displayed a driven intellectual curiosity and often thumbed his nose at convention — such as his participation, in 1976, in a re-enactment of the storied 1779 flatboat trip from Kingsport to Nashville that historians consider the founding of the city. Similarly, the first time I ever heard Hardcastle deliver a lecture, on Nashville history, he was dressed in a coonskin cap and other 18th century attire. If memory serves me correctly, he was channeling James Robertson. Perhaps "performance historian" would be an apt description of his metier.

Besides his passion for Tennessee history, Hardcastle was an ardent environmentalist, active in the early efforts to save Radnor Lake from development. He was also active in the Nature Conservancy. (At his funeral, a son offered the remark that while his father loved nothing more than sleeping outside in a tent, the only tent his mother ever really loved was the one enveloping the Cheekwood grounds once a year.) Professionally, Hardcastle started out as a banker but later was named president of the H.G. Hill Realty Co. Under his watch, the company developed the upscale project Hill Place on Post Road.

Hardcastle was an extraordinarily sociable man and had a fabulous laugh. In fact, just about everything he said seemed to start out seriously but then detour down a trail of good humor. At one point in his long slide into so-so health, I ran into him at the Whitland Avenue Fourth of July picnic, which he loved. He was dressed in a natty red-white-and-blue. "Age is getting to me," he said, taking a seat on a nearby bench. I then repeated to him what John Jay Hooker had told me, when he had turned 70. "When I woke up this morning," Hooker said, "I grabbed my penis and told it, 'Penis, if you were alive today, you would be 70.' "

John Hardcastle laughed so hard I thought I was going to have to call a doctor. At his funeral, a Dixieland jazz band played classics, and smiles broke out everywhere.

Connectors

BETTY BROWN
1939-2011
Environmentalist, philanthropist, progressive, single degree of separation

By Bruce Dobie

Betty Brown tended to a broad array of interests from her (and her husband Martin's) almost feudal spread out Hillsboro Road. Her agenda seemed to flow rather organically, although an official obituary would point to the fact that she was the founder and guiding light behind the Nashville Tree Foundation, which has planted thousands of trees here. There were other board memberships certainly, but most of her official commitments stemmed from a love of the outdoors. Friends often found themselves traipsing after her to inspect one or another wildflower on the family's property. Her environmentalism was, in many ways, her religion.

Because of her husband's family ownership of Jack Daniel's, Betty had standing the moment she moved to town. But from then on, it was her ballgame. Smart, progressive, unabashedly happy and willing to do whatever she wanted, she was a force. Betty didn't spend her time grooming future Swan Ball chairwomen. But the social arts were, in fact, her forte. Betty was a consummate and inveterate connector of people, always at the center of something. A visitor to her and Martin's house might find seated around the table a talking medley that included a congressman, an Episcopalian bishop visiting from California, and an environmental activist just in from the woods. Her summer trips to the family compound in the Canadian wilderness, attended over the years by dozens of thankful guests, were studies in how to make the difficult look easy. Betty's running buddies were a who's-who of literate, well-heeled Democrats, and at the Brown home they were often refreshed.

One time around Betty's table, someone mentioned a nasty divorce whose details were rocking the city. "Yes, they're negotiating here," she said nonchalantly. Activity often found Betty. She was comfortable in the fray. She loved spotting talent, putting people together, mixing it up. Her native Louisville pulled hard, but Nashville was where she invested her time and energies. An epic struggle with Parkinson's claimed her far too early. What we all would have given to see a vibrant Betty, 25 years hence, still presiding, the city's grande dame. She was buried in a wooden casket made from a tree felled on the family property. The gal had style.

catching crabs in the social net

I am one of those people who actually enjoy using location-based social networking apps.  To an extend.  I won't use Facebook check-in or Gowalla or GayCities or Looped, but I do like FourSquare.  I like playing the game with my friends and "checking in" to places to let my friends know where I am if they want to join the party, or to unlock a local deal.   I will also say that their merit badges, mayorships and competition among friends can be useless fun too.

Now on the gay side of things there is the no holes barred (poor choice of words) location-based and hook-up-friendly app Grinder which crossed the line into mainstream press (and is locked out of NSFW content by Apple's app restrictions.  Boo.) No self-respecting or self-debasing gay man has a smart phone without Grindr.  For those not in the know, You set up a small profile on Grinder and when you launch the app, it lists the other users around you in order of distance, and you can browse their pic and interests and send them a message.

This is the future now of cruising.

I cannot imagine growing up or coming of age in this level of technology and digital social connections.  I'm not even that old and come from a time that we relied on clever looks, codes and finely-honed gaydar to find other members of the community.  Now, as they say, there is an app for that.  While the stated purpose of Grinder is to be a location-based social networking tool, it's pretty much an ad for hookups.  Even though we all fire it up to see who's around with no intention of following through.  Most of the time, it's window shopping.  Of course, those are usually the daylight hours.

The success of Grinder has spawned similar apps, such as Scruff, which is basically Grindr for bears with more features.

I have both apps on my phone and use them.

I feel as if I should be in a circle of strangers whose last names are unknown when I type that.

I do find Grindr and Scruff fascinating though when I travel.  In SF, it's fun to see who's around, who you know, and who you'd like to know.  I have never hooked up on Grindr before, but I have made some virtual and real life friends/acquaintances.  In Nashville it's a little more disturbing as the gay social scene is so much smaller and incestuous.  If you launch the app while in the bar, you see basically the 30 people around you whom you could see face to face if you would just look up from your goddamn smartphone for one fucking second and paid attention to me.  Also, depending on who is looking over your shoulder, you can see not only the 30 other gay guys in the bar who have smartphones, but pretty much any socially active local can tell you the sexual history of any one there pictured.

It's a small community.

Notice I did not say that it's a tight community.  Ahem.

The real value to these apps, I believe is for (1) the traveler and (2) the lost rural soul.  Can you imagine thinking you're the only freaking gay kid in a town of 1,200 in a state where it's 150 miles of lonely road until the next town of only a thousand people?  This app must be a magic lifeline—young men can actually see and chat with other gay guys and not kill themselves in a fit of isolation.

However, when the lonely and desperate gay tweenager whose parent's don't know that that iPod Touch grandma gave him is now filled with gay porn and websites starts chatting up older, skeevy men who are into younger boys, Grinder becomes the windowless van of location-based social networking.  I would advise young guys to chat up other young and/or verifiable guys and be vague about their real name, location etc. at all times.

The other group that gets the most benefit from Grindr/Scruff (I mean other than sluts) is the traveler.  Don't know where to go as a gay guy in this new town?  Want to meet a friend or order in room service?  There's an app for that.  I have found it particularly useful when visiting non-metropolitan areas.  When Grinder was new, I logged in while in Rosemary Beach with the family and desperate for a drink and maybe another gay person to hang out with.  I don't think Grindr had reached it's tipping point yet as all of the guys online where the closeted type who wanted only other gym-toned hard bodies who were "straight acting" and "need to travel" or on the down-low because they were all on vacation too with their wife and kids, and looking for a little "release" away from their regular "buddies" at "home."

Hey Alex, I'm going to pass on the "Self-Loathing" category, even for $200.

Grindr and Scruff are also fun in airports on layovers.  Other guys are cruising online, generally seeking a drink to kill time during multiple hour delays, and checking in at such specific locations such as "Terminal 2, Gate 12."  Then there are the Larry Craigs.  I am not judging.

There are also the boys who may as well be escorts, looking for love and hinting at compensation.  While not a rent boy per se, I was amused by this profile which popped up while I was in the Denver airport on a layover.  He's a young guy who is ripped and clearly knows his value as an accessory to the more established gay man.  You may read this differently, but this read to me as a cocky young gym bunny looking for a little sugar daddy. Albeit a "daddy" under 30. Maybe he just needs some sugar. Although clearly not the sucrose kind, judging by those abs.

This last trip to the lake with the family was the first time any of us had any cell service, much less data service with our iPhones.  This lake house is right where the borders of Mississippi, Tennessee and Alabama come together, and in the middle of friggin' nowhere.   One night it occured to me to launch Grindr and see what the gay scene was like, if there was any, as there was not a "downtown" to speak of for a good half hour (even 45 minutes) in one particular direction.  (By the way, I am counting the nearest liquor store as "downtown" in this case.)

Grindr was HOPPING.  Holy crap was it active.  I logged in once, was amused for a minute or two and turned off the phone.  I launched the app again later and had messages from over a dozen guys.

I have received maybe four messages in SF.

It was fasinating.  There was an underground gay community of sorts out here, and I can't imagine how wonderful it must be not to have to seek each other our in secret bars or parks, or furtive looks across the high school hallway, or the checkout line at the Piggly Wiggly.

Here's the thing though, the vast majority of Grinder users in this area were 18-23.  Of course, you have to be at least 18 to use Grindr so many of them may have been lying about their ages, which is supported by the youthfulness of their photos, clearly taken in their parents' house.  I can't imagine being out to myself in this part of the country much less cruising online at that age.  But I did not come out myself until I was almost 24.  I could not bring myself to respond to a lot of the very young guys who seemed to still be in high school.  I felt very much wash wash wash, can't get clean.  For some of the more plaintive, I would reply with a "Nice to meet you.  I'm here with my family.  I fly back to SF in a couple of days.  Have a nice weekend."  Like Facebook, Grindr can get a little addictive when you start engaging people.  I started checking more frequently whenever we drove out to a new town just to check out the demographics.  Still, the majority of profiles were of guys under 23 or 24 years old.  I did make one friend actually, and we continue to correspond.  He reported that he has a hard time dating there as he is a man's man, looking for a man's man, and most of the men he has managed to meet are into really young guys.  At 37, he is apparently over the hill.  Even with the abs.  I don't get it.

The Scruff profiles were a bit older and almost all exceptionally heavier.  But such is the Scruff demographic.  Now, after all of this rambling, is the inspiration for this post.  I came across this profile as being "near me" when I was in the backwoods of Tennessee/Mississippi and I found it disturbing in all sorts of ways.  When it comes to sexual lifestyles, I say: have at it as long as it doesn't hurt anybody else.  Personally, I am ridiculously vanilla when it comes right down to it, but I have been in the SoMa community long enough to salute and cheer when the freak flag flies.  But this...this one weirded me out.   I wanted to share this profile, name redacted (he uses his first and last name instead of a nickname which astounds me) because, seriously, WTF?!