Our Tennessee

When I woke up 33 years ago yesterday, Tennessee was not on my horizon.

My father-in-law to be drove all night from his Nashville home to NYC for our wedding that Friday afternoon. And at one point after the ceremony and during the celebration he pulled my wife and I aside and suggested we consider moving Tennessee.

“Beautiful country, a fresh start,” advised the Brooklyn native. We already knew we wanted out of the city, and had started browsing Strout Realty catalogs in search for a few acres of our own.

The following spring, after he bought a 12 acre “farm” as a retirement site, he contacted us about Tennessee again. This time the pitch included mention of an old farmhouse on his place, he had no intention of using, but we could buy it if we like. It “might” be an old log cabin he advised, and much in need of restoration.

We left NYC behind the summer of ’77. Tennessee’s been home ever since. We’ve raised six kids in the cabin we restored and added onto, and set our roots deep on our patch of a few hillside acres.

We’ve been married 33 years, and Tennessee is where we’ve made our life together.

A wedding day is always an occasion for making memories. Little did we know where a casual suggestion would lead, and all it would entail for our future.