All photos of me are by my friend and photographer Melissa. If you are in the Nashville area, and need headshots or family photos, contact her at firstname.lastname@example.org.
You can contact me at email@example.com.
I’m Anita. If you believe everything you read in yearbooks, like the one I’m seen signing in this picture, this eighth-grade version of me is sweet, sweet, sweet, nice, pretty, a great friend, a good listener, sweet, sweet, and a wonderful singer. If you believe my favorite middle school English teacher Mrs. King, I’m also a good writer.
In the high school and college years to come, Mrs. King’s opinion was shared by other English and writing teachers. I wrote. I wrote to please my teachers. I wrote because I was asked to for a grade. My focus, however, was music. I was a singer. This was my identity, my obsession, and my future. It’s perplexing that it never occurred to me to combine these two pleasures until I was in my mid-twenties. No one had asked me to, and I’m a bit of a rule-follower. I thought song-writing was for, well, I didn’t know who wrote songs . . . radio fairies maybe.
When I moved to the Nashville area in 2005, I did it for the music. I called myself a song-writer by then, but not without wincing. I was going through a “major life change”. This is what I used to tell people until I realized that everyone knew this was code for divorce, or “D-I-V-O-R-C-E” as one of my friends used to say in a whisper. This was the year my life really began. I fell in love with Tennessee that year, and I fell in love with the best song-writer I’ve ever known.
I’ve been a private voice and piano teacher for, perhaps, too long because you know what they say about those who teach. (Nothing but a misconception that I’ve allowed, over time, to become true.) This is why I began this blog. I’m here, cyberly speaking, to do.
I’m probably not as sweet as the girl in the above picture. I’m definitely not as thin, and I haven’t tucked in my shirt since 1996. I hope I’m a better writer. Maybe you’ll learn a thing or two from this site, but please don’t take offense when I say I don’t care. I do care that you enjoy it. But I have a feeling I’ll be doing most of the learning this time, and maybe even proving Mrs. King right.
– Anita, Noted in Nashville
This is Big D . . . his hands anyway. Big D always says that God made him out of spare parts. He has big hands, which is good because my whole world rests in them. You’ll see a lot of these hands on this blog.
I’m sharing only this part of him for now. I’ve always been stingy with him like that. My family and friends met him for the first time months after we were married. For that brief time in our life together, he was nobody’s in-law. Nobody’s friend’s boyfriend. Nobody’s news. Nobody’s business. And I liked it that way.
These hands have written the best songs I’ve ever heard in my life. They play guitar. They build guitars. They fix guitars. They fix pies. They fix my broken heart from time to time. And they write . . . maybe better than I do.
I’ll share more of him soon. Maybe an elbow or the tip of his nose.
– Anita, Noted in Nashville
Photo of Big D’s hands by Melissa at firstname.lastname@example.org.