Let Me Call You Sweetheart

Did y’all know that Beth Slater Whitson, who wrote “Let Me Call You Sweetheart” and “Meet Me Tonight in Dreamland” lived in Nashville?

If you have been down Granada towards Ellington Parkway, you’ve probably seen the house her husband gave her as a wedding present there on the left.  I know it was up for sale last year, because I saw the listing, but they didn’t mention its history. Maybe they didn’t know.  That would be sad.

They had a story about it in the Tennessean fifteen years ago or so, which I was able to find in Google’s cache. And it got me thinking of the importance of retelling our stories. If you don’t continually tell the stories that “everyone” knows, soon no one knows them.  Whitson gets forgotten. Her house sits at the end of a dead end (it’s technically on whatever street is behind Granada), a strange 1900s relic on a street full of houses built thirty, forty, fifty years later, its significance long forgotten.

The Tennessean article said that she had great periods of manic creativity and crushing bouts of depression.  Her husband was wealthy enough to be able to keep her at home and not in an insane asylum.

She died in the house.

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