I didn't get far. I walked out of my hotel and there across the street at an art museum was a metal artwork of roses. But what caught my attention was what was in front of it. On concrete balls like you'd see at Target was written the words: STOP. TAKE. NOTICE.
So I did. And I took a picture of it...
I walked on...five blocks and found myself in "Honky Tonk Central". Now remember my claim to fame is that "I was country when country wasn't cool" just like my mentor Barbara Mandrell sang back in 1981. That was when I wore my cowboy boots back on the bluff with cut-off jeans and a stick horse that could run as fast as my little legs could carry the both of us!
But in the depths of this Honky Tonk town, I didn't see many cowboy boots or hats or "howdy, partners". I did notice a dad pulling his car over and six college-aged girls get out and head directly to a restaurant crowded with people.
I did notice construction that shut off an entire block of the road. They were building a stage from one intersection to the other.
"What's going on here?" I asked. The young man replied, "Oh, Sports Illustrated is coming in for a show and a tent will cover this entire stage." I had gotten a tip from a police officer earlier on my walk about this. I asked the man again, "Is this show for the Sports Illustrated swimsuit models?" He looked down and gave me a Southern-style response, "Yes, ma'am."
I kept on walking. I was excited to head to the Walk of Fame park and find Dolly Parton and take a picture of her name with my foot. (I don't know why I like the foot shots bloggers do. I just do.) But it too was under construction. No park. No names. And no picture of Dolly Parton's name next to my foot.
Disappointed...I continued my walk, and that's when I noticed him...Mandolin Mike. His original cowboy hat caught my attention as he played his mandolin on the street side for all to hear. He was so engrossed in his music that I didn't want to interrupt, but I finally did ask his permission to take his picture.
Without missing a note he said, "You should take a picture of the people who are walking by that don't appreciate the art of what this place is all about." I was taken back. I didn't know what to say, but to drop a bill in his mandolin case and ask again for his picture. He said I could have taken the picture without the donation and thanked me.
After a few more minutes, he stopped playing...I knew this was my chance to ask him a few questions, and that's all it took for Mike to begin sharing his heart with me. He has been a street musician for over 17 years, and he began to explain how much music and this city meant to him. He shared with me what country music and this town used to be, its roots, its purpose, what it stood for from the beginning, and who built the foundations of it. His frustration was very visible as he talked about people missing the point, taking the history and the art of country music for granted, coming only to the city of Nashville to satisfy themselves through various means.
Mandolin Mike passionately said:
"People have lost seeing the art, and you can't be an artist unless you're authentic and original, and what I mean by original is that you remember where you came from. No one cares anymore about being authentic and original."
Numerous people continued to walk by us with another destination in mind. A few friends called out to Mike, and he always stopped to say hello back and receive their greeting with a tilt of the head as cowboys do.
I realized I was sitting in a classroom, and Mandolin Mike was my teacher.
Mike was talking about the music and the city he loves, and even though I love good ol' country music of the 70's & 80's, God used his words to speak new truth to me.
"Do I remember where I came from?"
In a physical sense, it would be the bluff in Idaho I grew up on. The childhood moments I got to experience because of the hard work and the sacrifice of a young couple willing to pay the price to raise my brother and I in a good home.
In a spiritual sense, do I remember where I came from? This question is a bit harder for me. I knew at age 6 that God was real and had called me to follow Him. I don't have an amazing transformational testimony of what I was before I met Jesus and who I was after, but....I CAN imagine where I would be today if I hadn't had Jesus in my life at a young age. It stops me in my tracks, and it is easy to take notice of a real God working in the midst of my life all these years, which can be easily overlooked.
There is something freeing about asking yourself Mike's question. Looking back at your roots, the sacrifices others have made for you, the evidence of God's fingerprints. It's humbling. It's rich. It creates a life-giving grateful heart.
What am I passing by? Who am I not noticing?
I could have missed meeting Mike like so many others that afternoon.
Am I so busy keeping up with what everyone else is doing and being, that I'm not only missing those around me, but I'm forgetting myself?
Isn't it interesting that the STOP TAKE NOTICE visual at the beginning of my journey that day was in front of an art museum?
Thank you, Mandolin Mike, for your lesson that took me back once again to the bluff & God's life lessons for me. I hope I never lose the art of noticing!
See Mandolin Mike for yourself here.
I also learned that STOP TAKE NOTICE is all over the Metro area of Nashville to promote pedestrian safety after a young girl by the name of Elena was hit by a truck in 2013 just a couple blocks from the hotel I stayed in. Their efforts are to get the word out about driver & pedestrian safety, raise awareness, and honor their beautiful friend Elena.
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