Chattanooga Sunday

The Sunday meeting in Chattanoogahas become a tradition in my family.  As the halfway point between Nashville and their home in suburban Atlanta, it's the natural spot for a visit. Plus, it has plenty of entertainment choices, even if we always meet at the Big River Brewing Company, .

Due to mostly unavoidable delays Nancy finally met my parents and Joe on Sunday. As usual, Lunch went quite well. Once we bid the Melville clan a safe trip home, we took the Chattanooga's not-so-mean streets. I'm sure it has a few mean ones, but most close to downtown were clean and sparsely traveled.

The tourist element runs pretty thick around downtown, as well it should. Chattanooga branded itself as a destination, shedding its reputation as an industrial city. Barges still ply the Tennessee River, but the days of daring river pilots tempting the shoals outside the city are gone. The stately metal bridges across the river remain above the deep shipping channel between the Nickajack and Chickamauga dams.

After passing the Tennessee Aquarium - still among the best I've seen - we crossed the Tennessee for a look at the artier section of Chattanooga. We crossed and saw the giant riverfront park that put Nashville to shame - there were no piles of scrap metal anywhere. The little strip of bars and bistros 

A dreadlocked busker asked Nancy if he could conjure up a song about her. She refused, and he struggled for a response. We crossed back on the wide pedestrian bridge. Everywhere people wandered with their dogs, and dogs were quick to quarrel. Of course, the beagles barked the loudest.

With ice cream in hand(s), we wandered down to the riverfront , examining the park we saw between the bridges. Broken up by small crowds, sunbathers was downright idyllic. Along the placid river, people swarmed and the occasional gaggle of geese cruised by. We grabbed a bench and couldn't have been less bothered by the frisbees, kites and running children. It feel improbably for February, but still managed to feel appropriate.