I visited the Parthenon 30 years ago and had added it back to my bucket list. So, when a friend was game for a long weekend, we packed a bag and headed just a short distance west. As we merged into downtown Nashville traffic, I realized — too late — I probably should have checked for a ballgame. We were trapped.
I don’t know what we did before GPS, do you? I was thankful I didn’t have to take my eyes off the road — just listen to the calm voice on my digital device as it steered us through the chaos.
Sometimes I’m amazed at what an impatient society we’ve become — or maybe we’ve always been this way, and I’ve just outgrown it. Back in the 1990s, when I lived near Nashville, I was one of the horn honkers and finger flippers. (Sorry if that disappoints anyone, but growth is a thing!)
Once we escaped the tangle of brake lights, Centennial Park felt like stepping into another world. The Parthenon rose ahead, just as majestic as I remembered. The sun was hot, but with plenty of spaces and a steady stream of visitors, finding parking was easy.
On one side stood the massive gold-colored head known as the “Colossal Head,” honoring a civil rights and women’s rights activist, Frannie Lou Hamer. Seeing her there — larger than life — reminded me how far we’ve come, and for every woman who battled for my rights years ago, I am forever grateful. But it also reminds me of how far there is still to go.
Admission was $10 for seniors, $15 for others. (A small perk of getting older. Thank you very much!) Inside, we climbed the stairs to the main floor to meet the 42-foot statue of the goddess, Athena Parthenos herself — the Parthenon’s centerpiece and said to be the tallest indoor statue in the Western Hemisphere, according to artist Alan LeQuire’s website.
LeQuire got the commission in 1982 and spent nearly eight years building her. She weighs about 12 tons. In her right hand, she holds a 6-foot, 4-inch statue of Nike, the goddess of victory. A 20-foot serpent coils between her body and her shield.
When Athena was first unveiled, some objected, citing scripture about erecting statues of goddesses. Yet Athena stands tall and serene, a gleaming goddess of Greek literature and culture, utterly unbothered by centuries of debate. Around her, winged figures soar, as if protecting the goddess.
For over a decade after the unveiling, Athena stood unfinished and plain white inside the hall. That changed in 2002, when workers gilded the statue in gold leaf and painted it in vivid colors.
We circled the inside perimeter, reading plaques beside other “deemed important,” marble casts, then descended to the first floor’s art gallery. I’m in awe of anyone who can coax a place or person into permanence with a brush and canvas. A painting makes me feel something — not always sure what — mystique, perhaps. I wondered about the people staring back from their frames. Why did the artist choose them? What moment in a landscape compelled someone to preserve it? As a writer, I know that feeling: when a thought grips you so tightly you can’t move forward until you release it onto paper.
The gallery’s variety was stunning. Aside from the golden goddess and marbled casts, several exhibitions of historical interest could be viewed. I found fascinating, a model crane 1/10th the size used to build the Parthenon. Also of interest, The Antikythera Mechanism, often referred to as the world’s first computer.
Just as we were about to explore the gift shop, a call announced its closing, and we missed that final stop. After a couple of hours indoors, we wandered back outside to the manicured grounds.
A larger-than-life sculpture honoring the women’s suffrage movement stood proudly in the sunlight. I can’t imagine living in a time when women had to fight so hard for the rights I take for granted. I wonder if I’d have been brave enough to stand where they stood, risk what they risked.
Back at the car, I looked back at the Parthenon. I reflected on Athena’s gaze and the suffragists’ unflinching faces; I felt the quiet weight of history settle on me.
Thirty years had passed since my last visit, and so much had shifted—in the world, in me. Checking the Parthenon off my bucket list wasn’t just about revisiting a landmark; it was about honoring the threads that connect past and present, courage and change, memory and growth.
Sometimes the places we return to remind us how far we’ve traveled, even when the miles aren’t so many.