When I first moved back to Nashville in 2010, our realtor took us to a few parts of town.
One was okay, it was just kinda pricey. Another one was where all the cool kids lived, and I just got the heebie-jeebies over there.
Everything was “up and coming.” Everything was named one of the “coolest” places in town. I got tired of it. The showmanship. The cool factor. The trendiness. I just wanted a place in town with normal people. Working people. People that weren’t constantly on the go or trying to impress their neighbors. I had to do my own search.
And that’s how I found Woodbine.
I’ve got people on my street that have been here for 30-plus years, renters who’ve only been here a few months, people that play polka music, people that push strollers, people that work nice jobs, people that work service jobs, people that fix things, people that look the same, and people that don’t look the same. It’s where I live.
And the 40 pages of WOODBINE are about dogs, and an abandoned Kmart, and about the Shoney’s restaurant, and about running away and picking up. In personal essays, images and tweets.
You’ll love WOODBINE. Not because you live here. Not because you live there. But because you’re living.