Finding home on the river that sings.

Jiggety-jig.🛶🎤 🏡

Greetings, Folks!

A quick bit of news to announce that I’ve officially retired the “Nomadkins” lifestyle and have settled down in Muscle Shoals, Alabama.

It’s a small-ish, down-to-earth city on the banks of the Tennessee River that rightly calls itself the “Hit Recording Capital of the World.” Maybe you’ve seen the documentary? If not, watch the trailer above. After doing so, odds are you’ll want to put on your boogaloo shoes and watch the whole thing.

Home is a cozy, two-story townhouse in a quiet, residential neighborhood. It’s near a lovely city park and recreation center, funky restaurants and nightspots, good healthcare, nature-bathing at the TVA Trails Complex, and a Publix supermarket that’s always as cool as a cucumber. And I love that my new permanent address will allow more frequent weekend visits with my daughter Libby, who lives in Nashville (a straight shot north, up I-65). The icing on the cake is a certain little Episcopal church, just five minutes away—a place that offers a refuge of unity and reconciliation in a world where both of those conditions now seem to be in short supply.

Muscle Shoals also gets bonus points for being a 30-minute drive from my paternal family stomping ground, located in Limestone County, Alabama. A pilgrimage to that place is in the offing, probably this Saturday—right after I install my guitar hangars in the living room, decorate the courtyard with purple petunias and and buy a new doormat that reads, ALL Y’ALL ARE WELCOME, BUT YOU GOTTA ACT RIGHT.

Peace & Love,

Mark

P.S. To find out why the river is called the “Singing River” (at least in this area), click here.