From www.rollingstone.com: On October 12th, 2012, the musical drama premiered on ABC. Since that time, the series, which also streams on Hulu, was canceled and then revived by CMT to air for two seasons. In October 2012, we moved the tiny house to Pratt Rd and moved in. I ordered a used copy of The New Essential Guide to Lesbian Conception, Pregnancy, and Birth and we traded it back and forth with Michael, making our plan, building our trust, sharing lots of good meals and laughs. These past seven years have been so fun, and hard, and easy, and sad and lonely, and full of awesome people. I have so many memories bubbling up of friends visiting to dogsled and ski and visit the beach and eat from our garden. And then they leave and the house is quiet again and I’m still finding my place back in this place that is so beautiful, but also so isolated. I never for a second regret my decision to come home, to make my home here with Jen and Oscar, but I do appreciate that in some of the quiet tired moments, I am able to bring up hulu and let my feelings be guided by the music and acting and writing of a completely different place and ensemble of characters. As the [final] episode opens... [skim or skip the rest of the italics if you don’t want spoilers, and you'll still get the gist] ...Gideon is missing after Deacon discovers he’s been drinking again. Deacon also finds out that his manager, Bucky, has organized a tour for him because “old guys are coming back in style.” Deacon also calls Will’s ex, Zach, who is now running for Senate — another nod to the show’s beginnings, when political intrigue was part of the plot. Jen and I kept up with the show for the first few years. We’d look forward to a new episode each week and watch together in the evening after dishing up dinner. Then when Oscar was a baby and I was home with him a lot, I went back and rewatched from the beginning. It was okay if I was distracted from the show while caring for him, because I already knew the story and could still enjoy the music. For the last couple years, our internet was too slow to stream hulu, and I’ve had less time to watch, but this summer Jen got us hooked up to something decent, and every so often I’ve been able to sneak in another episode. Brad, meanwhile, shows up at Alannah’s to tell her that he has scored her a gig in Memphis. After the show, she’s in her hotel room and Brad invites her to a party in another room. There is, of course, no party — just Brad, who finally gets a smack from Alannah right across his smug, slimy kisser. When they return to Nashville, Brad is shocked as Alannah, Deacon and Zach barge into his office. Zach offers him $15 million for the record label. Well, he doesn’t so much offer it as insist on it as Alannah reveals she has memorialized Brad’s slithery moves on her phone. He’s then ambushed by a parade of pissed-off women, including his ex, Jessie, who demands full custody of their son. I guessed early on that the show was written by women. When I went to the internet to confirm, I found out that the creator, Callie Khouri, also wrote the screenplay for Thelma & Louise. These last seven years of women speaking up has been something: Me Too, the Women’s March, the Kavanaugh hearing, this, this, this, traveling to Iowa with my mom a year after my grandma died. Reconciling. Avery shows up at Juliette’s house only to find out she’s leaving to live on a farm outside town. He knows she’s keeping something from him but she doesn’t spill. He talks with Hallie about Juliette moving out to the country and Hallie reveals he’s going to be a daddy again. Juliette’s character arc hasn’t so much come full circle as it has done a 180-degree turn, as she tells Avery she didn’t want to trap him into staying with her. That’s a long way from the tormented country-pop star that could — and would — step on anyone and everyone who got in her way early on in the series. As her boxes are moved from the house and she prepares for a new life out of the spotlight, she sings a beautiful song about being free. I don’t need the show in the same way I used to. I feel much less lonely these days. Slowly but surely friendships here have grown and flourished. Working in Red Cliff and with Oscar in kindergarten, I feel so much more connected to community. I enjoy my time with my parents and brothers more now that I am less involved with the farm. Jen and Oscar left yesterday to spend the weekend hunting and cookie-baking with the Tealeys in Bloomer and I’ve been so looking forward to having a few days to myself. This morning I video-chatted with Kate from bed. We laughed and cried and caught up in a way that was long overdue. I ate my lunch in front of the TV. I had three more episodes of Nashville including the finale. I texted with Jen during the commercials. (She got a doe. It was a hard shot. She put down tobacco. We will be eating venison this year. I am so grateful.) Steve Earle makes a guest appearance on the show and makes a reference to fly fishing. I am reminded of a favorite memory from this summer. Greg Brown was playing (supposedly his last show ever) at Big Top Chautauqua. Jen and I went without Oscar. We sat with our friends. When Michael Perry introduced him he talked about how Greg Brown meant so much because he was a deep thinker with rural values and there is a special connection in that. Then Greg Brown and Bo Ramsey played. Mid-way through, Theresa turned around and said, “I can’t understand a word that he’s saying, but I love him.” There was a huge rainstorm. He sang his encore with Iris Dement. It was beautiful. And we understood every word. Deacon takes the Ryman stage, giving a speech of heartfelt gratitude that sounds like it’s directed not only at the fictional characters, but at the real cast, crew and everyone involved in Nashville for the past six seasons. He invites his dad onstage and asks him if he knows the song he wants him to play on. “Son, I know all your songs,” Gideon says. With that, fiction and reality are blended together in a truly beautiful scene as the stage fills with Deacon’s family and friends, and then the dozens of real people who made Nashville possible, including production crew and cast members we haven’t seen in a while, not least of all the angelic Connie Britton, back where she belongs. And the tears stream down my cheeks. I sob in a way that feels so cathartic. So grateful. So easy. I know I need to write about this and that I have the time to write. So I am, with the Highwomen playing in the background. And I’m still crying. And grateful. So grateful. I could dismiss it all as a silly soap opera, but I won’t. These are real feelings. This is real healing. And I'm so fortunate to have "a life that is good."
2 Comments
Kate
11/24/2019 09:06:00 am
Lovely Mags
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Magdalen
11/24/2019 02:01:52 pm
Thanks Kato <3
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AuthorsMagdalen Dale and Kaite Sweval grew up a layer apart, overlapping and paralleling. Belonging to the shores of Lake Superior and yet not quite belonging. Laughing and dreaming on the bench outside the ferry booth as Mag passed the time and Kaite chose her time. Left to explore as soon as they could. And then as adults returned home, perhaps to their surprise. But glad to have each other... ‘cause we know there is strength in the differences between us and comfort where we overlap. Archives
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