Jessie’s Girl

I’ve been meaning to write all week to give everyone an update on the Rick Springfield concert last weekend at the Wildhorse.  My girlfriends and I had a blast.  I’ll admit, I went into the whole thing expecting to see a lot of 80’s hair and blue eye shadow.  It didn’t happen.  Probably the most shocking thing we saw was a guy from Illiniois on the front row… with his entire family!  It was his 6th trip to see Rick Springfield.  This guy apparently follows him around the country as if it were 1981.  None of us had the heart to break it to him that it’s not.  What the hey though?  If that’s what you like to do… go for it.  His kids seemed to be having fun too, despite the fact that they weren’t even alive when Rick made his debut on General Hospital. 

Rick’s in great shape too!  I’ve included a photo as proof.  The guy is 58.  I’d like to find whatever fountain of youth he’s been drinking from.  Whatever he’s doing… it’s working. 

As the night was winding down, I caught a glimpse of a poster on a bathroom stall featuring upcoming acts.  Apparently Journey is coming in a few weeks… their sponsor, AARP.  It’s that moment that it dawned on me.  I’m slowly morphing into my mother. 

Valentine’s Day Charity

What a week

You know it’s Monday when you look down at the bottom of your black pants suit to find a pair of navy blue shoes. Yes, it happened. I was embarrassed for about two seconds until I started to think of all the people in our viewing area who lost everything they own last week in the tornadoes… no shoes, no photo albums, no food for goodness sakes!

The bright spot in all of it has been watching the community pull together for victims and their families. The station raised $150,000 dollars with a telethon less than 24 hours after the storms blew through. Every day I receive an e-mail from some other school or civic organization pitching in to help. Today it was my daughter’s school. Apparently a dozen graduates from there currently attend Union University and lost everything in the storm. The school is collecting gift cards to try and help them get back on their feet. Unfortunately we live in a society where most of us are overloaded just trying to meet our own day to day commitments. It’s been nice seeing people get off the treadmill and do something for someone else for a change.

Hopefully you all had a Happy Valentine’s Day. If you didn’t do anything nice for somebody this week… it’s not too late, and if you need a conversation starter for that big date, wear a pair of unmatching shoes. It’s a guaranteed talker. Trust me.

The Haircut

Who knew getting a few inches trimmed off my head would generate such a buzz? Many of you e-mailed last week. Some were favorable, like “I love your hair”, while others were a little more ambiguous. For example one viewer said, “Oh, you got your haircut! Who did it?” Were they hoping to score an appointment with my girl, or are they compiling a Do Not Hire list for hairdressers? There were still others who just flat out hated it, like the guy who said, “What happened to your head?” How do I know it was a guy, you ask? Trust me, no woman would have the heart to send that e-mail. LOL Every time I read a new one I can’t help but wonder… is this what Britney felt like the day after she shaved off all her hair/extensions?

I wish I had some highbrow explanation for why I decided to cut it. I don’t. I’ve had the same hairstyle since 2001, and I finally just got sick of it. To those of you who like it… thanks! For those of you who don’t… my hair grows REALLY fast.

I wanted to clear up a misunderstanding from last week’s blog. On Wednesday I was having lunch with a friend who worked for the Nashville Convention and Visitors Bureau. As soon as we sat down he immediately chastised me for saying “people are always complaining about the convention center.” I meant the CURRENT convention center. I’ve heard lot of people in the community murmoring about how it’s too small, and that’s what I was referencing. I’m not criticizing the current facility nor am I endorsing a new one. I was just stating a fact, that I’ve heard some complaints. Thankfully, he went to work for the Governor this week, so I don’t have to worry about any more skirmishes over Nashville tourism. We’ll have much bigger things to argue about. (That was a joke. Don’t send me hate e-mail!”)

Finally… I get lots of e-mails from people asking me questions. I usually respond to each one individually, but since so many of you want to know the same kinds of things… I’ve decided to answer them here. Starting next Monday, I’m going to answer one question a week on my blog. I’ll start with the number one most frequently asked question.

Of course I’m not going to tell you what it is. Check back in on Monday.

E-mail Jennifer

Rick Springfield

Would you look at that? It’s January 15th, and I’ve already broken my resolution which was to blog more often. Technically, I don’t think writing the blog two weeks after the committment is timely, but I saw someone on the Today show say that you shouldn’t let failure deter you from getting back on the horse when it comes to resolutions, so here I am blogging away.

Let me first say that my daughter and I made it to Hannah Montana. I’m still approached by people offering condolences, so I felt obligated to set the record straight. My husband actually got on the internet the day of the concert, and we got great seats at face value. My daughter was apparently living right, though I must say that had I paid a dime more than I did, I probably would have been upset. She’s six, and frankly going to concerts is something you can’t fully enjoy until you’re about twelve.

I still remember the first concert I went to. I told my parents I wanted to see Lionel Richie. This was back when he was blazing up the charts with hits like “Hello”. Anyway, what I MEANT is that I wanted them to buy tickets for me and a friend to go. What I GOT was an all expense paid trip to sit next to my parents in nosebleeders at the municipal auditorium. By the way, this was pre-Sommet, pre-GEC, pre-Nashville Auditorium. Right now everyone’s complaining about the Convention Center. The Convention Center we have now wasn’t even built when I went to that Lionel Richie concert. Now I’m starting to feel old. Anyway, it was a miserable show. Who goes to a hip concert with their parents at that age?

Not long after that, I went to a Rick Springfield concert at the Municipal Auditorium there too, and next month… we’re doing it all over again. One of my girlfriends is turning 40, and we’re all going to see Rick sing “Jessie’s Girl” at the Wildhorse. Unfortunately, as big a fan as I remember being, that’s the only song I can actually remember when pressed. I’m sure I’ll still remember enough to hum all the words when he gets here though. I checked out his website today, and much to my dismay… he looks younger than me. I’m hoping those are twenty year old photos I’m looking at, but I guess I’ll soon find out. If you’re at the concert look me up. We’ll be the screaming fools near the front… hopefully.

Here’s a link to his website.

The Grinch who stole Santa

Let me start out this week’s blog by saying, Jesus is the reason for the season. Amen! I haven’t lost sight of that, but it doesn’t diminish the fact that each year my six year-old daughter insists on dragging us to every Breakfast with Santa Nashville has to offer. Sometimes it’s a restaurant, other times it’s a church hosting the event. We have one on the books for every Saturday between now and Christmas if for no other reason than to figure out what she REALLY wants for Christmas above and beyond the three thousand things she’s circled in the Toys R Us and Lillian Vernon catalogues.

I’m leaving out names in this blog to protect the innocent, but let me say that last weekend… Santa was officially hijacked. Anyone who’s ever been to one of these will tell you that a breakfast with Santa is not really breakfast… with Santa. It usually involves a couple of pancakes, a sausage patty, some hot coffee, (if you’re lucky) and a “brief” visit with Old Saint Nick. As it turns out at this particular Breakfast with Santa, the price of admission included everything but the actual visit… and I’m not joking. Oh how I wish that I were.

After breakfast, my family stood in line behind twenty other youngsters and their parents waiting eagerly for our turn at bat. As we approached the pot of gold at the end of all this, a lady asked my husband in a not so polite way what package we wanted. Confused by this, he looks over at me wondering what she’s talking about. I was in the middle of a conversation with another parent but managed to mouth the words “pictures” to him while continuing my conversation.

He asked her if we could see the pictures before buying them. “No.” (Dead pan face) “He’s OUR Santa. We brought him, and if you want to see him you have to buy a package.” We’re not the kind of people who generally like to buy something sight unseen, but in the essence of not making a big deal, my husband awkwardly looked at the price sheet and picked the cheapest thing he could find which was $20. The woman let us know pretty quickly that his order didn’t cut the mustard. Apparently, the minimum fee for a half a minute on THEIR Santa’s lap was $35 dollars. Nevermind the fact that we had already paid to be there!

As this bizarre situation was unfolding Santa’s lap suddenly became free. As my daughter jumped into his wide open arms, the woman yells out to the photographer, “They haven’t paid. Are you going to let her sit there? They haven’t paid!” Imagine my chagrin when the whispers of other parents began. I’m not sure what they were saying, but here’s what it sounded like in my head: “Oh my goodness. Did you see that? The t.v. lady doesn’t have $35! How sad. I wonder if he’ll stand up and dump her poor child to the floor for lack of funds.”

Flush with embarassment, we scampered out of the event (pictureless of course) hoping maybe at least the people in the back didn’t hear about us. No such luck. People have been asking me about it all week. When we got to the car, I finally composed myself enough to ask my daughter what she said during her illegal sit in Santa’s lap, and hoping we could muster up the cash to pay for it, since we’re obviously the cheapest people alive. She said, “I told him I want health and happiness for my family this year and just told him to bring whatever he thinks I’d like.” She’s only six, but hey… she’s got it figured out.

Word to the wise… if you’re planning to have breakfast with Santa this year… keep one hand on your wallet.

Jennifer

Could Marcia Trimble’s Murder Finally be Solved?

Last week was a banner one for local law enforcement. Metro police announced on Tuesday that they had finally solved a 32 year-old murder case involving a Vanderbilt co-ed. Before cold case detectives could even finish celebrating… word began to leak out that the ex-convict they had nabbed may also be connected to the death of 9 year-old girl scout, Marcia Trimble who died the same month.

As a long time Nashvillian, I can assure you… this is huge. Everywhere you go, “old Nashville” is talking about it, but two days ago it hit me like a ton of bricks that many of the people who live here now don’t fully grasp just how big of a deal this truly is. For days on end I have been reading old articles, piecing together timelines, and tracking down former detectives. On night three of my endless search, my husband (a transplant from Indiana) said, “I don’t know why you’re putting so much energy into this. Most people don’t even know who Marcia Trimble is.”

Wow. What a blow. The truth is… he’s right. Nashville’s growth has been unreal in recent years. Many of the people who now call it home haven’t even lived here five years… let alone thirty two! How can we really expect them to care? Unless we educate them.

Let me be clear. I’m by no means an expert on the Marcia Trimble. I myself was only three years old when she was reported missing. What I do know is that this is a case that had a profound impact on parents like mine. Quite simply, her disappearance cost Nashville its’ innocence, and it’s something those of us who grew up here will never forget.

What happened to Marcia Trimble was every parent’s worst nightmare. My mother can still tell you where she was when she heard Marcia Trimble was discovered missing from her Green Hills neighborhood. She and her friends can tell you about the absolute chaos that ensued for the month she was gone, and she can tell about the wave of sickness everyone felt when it was announced on Easter Sunday that the little’s girl’s body had been discovered underneath a kiddie pool in a garage just a stone’s throw away from her own home.

For more than three decades we’ve all asked the same question. How could this happen to us? How does a child collecting money for girls scout cookies at 5:30 in the evening simply vanish into thin air? Why didn’t anyone see her abuctor in this tight knit upscale neighborhood? How did police officers who canvassed the area in droves for weeks, who actually LIVED with the Trimbles for a week, possibly miss a body that was only a couple of hundred yards away? The list of unanswered questions goes on and on. With all of the facts that have been gathered over the years… and there are many… nothing about the Trimble case makes any sense.

Sadly, many teenagers who either lived in the neighborhood or knew Marcia became suspects themselves over the years. One was even arrested, then later released due to a lack of evidence. Though most of them refuse to talk about it, their lives were forever altered. The absence of a conviction has literally made them the “Richard Jewels” of the Marcia Trimble case.

Whether Jerome Barrett is charged in Marcia Trimble’s death or not, these recent developments have given her mother and the community at large something we haven’t had in a long time… a glimmer of hope. If Jerome Barrett didn’t commit this crime, the cloud of suspicion will eventually be lifted, and police can look in another direction. If he is charged, let us all hope that the answers we’ve so desperately needed for 32 years will finally come to fruition. Godspeed to metro detectives as they work night and day to pursue justice.

Jennifer

Hanna Montana Struggles

24 hours and counting…That’s how I now look at the Hannah Montana concert that I do NOT have tickets to. My girlfriends and I have tried every way in the world to score seats for our kids short of selling off a kidney.

So far, all of our attempts have failed. It’s amazing how motivating your kids can be. Check out the photo of my little girl at even the mere mention that we MIGHT not be going.

I break out in a cold sweat every time I think about how I’m going to delicately explain to her that we WON’T be going to the concert.

I thought about telling her a bunch of money-hungry scalpers bought up all the tickets and that the audience would be made up primarily of older businessmen who couldn’t get rid of the tickets because children DON’T HAVE ANY MONEY OF THEIR OWN. It seemed a little over her head.

My second plan was to tell her there really IS no concert. This is all something the writers of the show made up for an upcoming episode. Unfortunately, she’s too smart for that, and some of her friends (with deeper pockets or friends in high places) are actually going.

Anyway, I’ve decided that sometimes we disappoint our kids. Occasionally there’s some merit to it. Other times, we take the heat for something that is absolutely not our fault. This is what we signed up for when we decided to have children.

One day, when she has a child of her own, she will understand and forgive me… but not a day sooner.

Christmas in November

It’s never too early to start celebrating Christmas, and I have to say, the people of Lawrenceburg know how to do it up right.

Over the weekend, I attended the 4th annual Trees of Christmas Exhibit and Silent Auction. It was so much fun, and I have the pictures to prove it. The coon skin hat wasn’t my idea, but I think it’s a nice touch.

Lawrenceburg IS, after all, the home of Davy Crockett not to mention some aspiring politicians. I should mention by the way… the fur’s not real. I would hate to have some animal lover (Nancy Van Camp) throw ink on me in public.

Anne Morrow is the organizer of the event, and all of the proceeds will go to Lawrence County High School’s Centennial Celebraion, scheduled for July 3rd-6th of next year.

The trees were absolutely beautiful, and most of them will make their way into someone’s home for Christmas. They were all auctioned off along with some amazing wreaths and other decorations.

It was great meeting the Sheriff and his family, the girls from Taste of the Town restaurant and a loyal viewer named Jimmy Farrington.

Click here for another picture of Jennifer’s visit.

Maybe I’ll be able to swing by again sometime, and thanks for the hats!

Jennifer

UT Bound

How is it that I am a Tennessee native, yet have never been to a UT game? I have no idea, but let me say… the wait is over. I am officially going to my first UT game tomorrow, and I think I’m prepared. After some extensive digging in my closet last night, I managed to find the only orange sweater I own, or have EVER owned for that matter. I think it’s a shade off of UT orange, but hopefully everyone will be too stoked about the game to notice.

Now that I think about it… I actually did go to a tailgate for a UT game one time. The only problem is… I was working for a Birmingham, Alabama station at the time, and I had to hang out with the wrong fans all night. It was Peyton Manning’s senior year, and I remember a lot of the Alabama fans having these stuffed Peyton’s hanging outside their RV’s from what looked like a nooses. Classy huh? Needless to say… that was a while back. I think Peyton just celebrated his NINTH year in the NFL. Ok… so I’m aging. Any advice you have for my big trip would be greatly appreciated.

Jennifer

THINGS THAT GO BUMP IN THE NIGHT

Many of us are getting ready for tiny ghosts, witches and goblins to appear on our doorsteps.

And some of us have decided to dress up our loveable pets for the occasion. But, did you ever stop to consider your dog, cat, horse, pig, iguana, snake or ferret doesn’t understand why it has been forced to wear such a ridiculous costume?
How many of you actually asked your pet if it was OK first? And if you did ask…what was the response?

“Sure. Go ahead…put that recycled lampshade on my head and make me wear a hula skirt. I won’t mind.”

Yeah…right! Somehow, it’s hard to believe many animals actually enjoy dressing up for Halloween. But, you might have a rare pet, endowed with special insights and tastes. On the other hand…your pet could secretly be planning revenge.
It’s no joke. The next time you get up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom and trip on something under foot…remember to stifle your colorful outburst as quickly as possible.

That way you might actually hear your beloved pet snickering in the darkness, eyes squinting with laughter, knowing this kind of pay back is the sweetest form of revenge, especially on the spookiest of nights.

I used to have a Doberman who smiled. It’s true. He was a great dog. And my children used to dress him up for various occasions, including Halloween. Here’s my point. I have a scar on my left hand I received while trying to break my fall in the middle of the night on Halloween. My dog’s muffled laughter still haunts me to this day.

Tom Randles