The Southwest Corner, Sunday, June 22, 2025. My dear bride of forty-two years has had a good day going to an art show in North County with two friends. The show featured the artwork of Jaci Springfield, another friend of the group. They had a great time, and fortunately, Maureen didn’t buy a great deal of stuff.
i too had a good day but it was at home getting things done i’ve intended to get done for about…oh, let’s say five years to be safe. Of course, i took a nap. After the nap and a few more chores, i repaired to our patio and called my friend of all friends, George Henry Harding, V, perpetually a resident of 218 South Tarver, where i spent more time than at my home. We were christened together in May of 1945 at the Lebanon First Methodist Church, then on East Main.
As i have noted here frequently, talking to Henry every month or so is simply resuming where we left off before. It always amazes me how two guys from the same place who went on to completely different life experiences still think the same about everything, everything. It’s sort of like looking in a mirror.
When we hung up, i got a little nostalgic, a little sad. My old hometown isn’t old anymore, and isn’t a small town anymore. It’s changed, but i still miss it and my friends there who are still around. Especially, i miss not talking with Henry every day. He and Brenda have a great back porch for talking to old friends — the porch wasn’t there when i romped with Henry and his brother Jim (i still call him Beetle) in that backyard.
Yeh, a little sad i felt. Homesick, i guess we could call it. For a few moments, i was down. Then, sitting on that patio as the patio, looking up at the landscape and the sun as it set over the slope toward the Pacific. i reached over and turned on the bluetooth speaker for my music library. i set it to listen to only Otis Redding.
My Vanderbilt Kappa Sigma brothers who loved Soul music as much as i, led by Cy Fraser, went to concerts in the old Nashville Municipal Auditorium to see Otis at least four times. Then, on a magical Saturday night, actually Sunday morning, Cy and i went to the Club Baron, a black night club on Jefferson Street in North Nashville. It was our place to go when it was quiet around campus. Otis had been the headliner for an earlier show downtown. We were there to watch the really superb artists that were regulars when around 1:00 a.m., Otis comes in with several members of his bands and puts on an impromptu show for about 45 minutes. i was in heaven.
After that night, when i was working to pay my way through MTSU, i played Otis as much as i could when i deejayed at WCOR in 65-67. i played his records at home even more.
When that wonderful phase of my life concluded, i packed up and headed to Newport, Rhode Island for Navy OCS (September 1967). i don’t know how i did this, but i somehow managed to secret a small portable record player in the locker in my barracks room, shared with the legendary Doc Jarden. On Thursday, December 7, we learned Otis had died in in a plane crash the night before. Doc was as big a fan of Otis as i was and equally saddened by the news.
In an even bigger mystery today, we pulled out that record player, and a record i had also brought and smuggled into the barracks, “The History of Otis Redding.” We started playing right after taps and finally turned it off around 2:00 a.m.
Listening to Otis, now on a bluetooth with Apple music playing all of his songs, my homesickness dropped off. i put my phone aside and looked out on my world in the Southwest corner. All was well.
After all, i had Otis Redding songs for listening, and i have Henry to lean on.