The Greenway

I went to Shelby Bottom Greenway (or, as Judd calls it, 'Shelby's Bottom') on Saturday afternoon in order to write, pray, etc. People-watching came as a secondary but ultimately domineering activity. The greenway in East Nashville contrasts so starkly with 'dragon park' downtown; at the dragon park, every conceivable and embarrassing aspect of humanity parades around in front of you. It's glorious. I had actually tried to go to dragon park first, but she was already packed out to the point of no return, no room for me to write anywhere: a small birthday party flailing around in one section, balloons escaping the birthday boy's grasp; some teens at one corner standing in a circle; various children and exasperated parents blathering over the hill. There were several dogs, a few squirrels, and people of all ages romping everywhere. Dragon park is alive and takes on various expressions with the mess of humanity in her. In stark contrast, there is something sadly expected and expectable at the Greenway. It's not evil or bad; it's just East Nashville in her typical over-calculation and self-conscious sterility. She's somewhat androgynous and meticulously post-modern. Everyone who came out had one of two things in mind: bike-riding or walking a dog. There were lots of trendy cars and SUV's. When couples would show up, they would always be in the late-twenties age bracket or else over fifty. There were few kids and endless dogs whom their owners often treated like kids. Several persons offered me suspicious gazes, as though I existed as a potential threat. Again, nothing evil or bad - it's just East Nashville. I longed for someone to pop out of a station-wagon with a handful of balloons, or to show up with a bundle of embarrassing children. The Greenway just offered up a protected grin, telling me punctually about a wine-tasting event in a few weeks, and I grinned back - but I would have liked her to smile or laugh. Even so, the protected grin is part of the beautifully awkward human creature. -r