Memphis and Ozarks- May 13, 2008
5/11/08
It is late at night but I am compelled to blog or else my head will explode. We spent the afternoon at the National Civil Right’s Museum, located in the Lorraine Motel, the site of the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. on April 4, 1968. As I came upon the motel’s balcony, adorned with a plaque and wreath commemorating this great man, I got goosebumps. This place changed American history.
The National Civil Rights Museum was an intense museum where we spent hours immersed in exhibits documenting the civil rights movement starting from the slave revolts of the 1700’s to the gay rights movement today. By the end my head was spinning and I couldn’t see straight. Most of the exhibits were dedicated to the African American struggle for equality, focusing on the turbulent 1950’s –1970’s. As I read about the abuses, dehumanization, oppression and inequities of African Americans, my emotions churned in anger, disgust and disbelief at how segregationists, Confederates, and other so-called Christians treated the blacks. There was even a billboard from those times stating that people should pray for segregation since integration was the “work of Satan.” What the Fuck. WWJD?? What is wrong with some people? It seemed like there was so much senseless HATRED back in those days. There were stories of black kids being burned and lynched because they spoke to a white woman, or stories of people jailed because they refused to change seats in a bus or at a diner. I can’t believe how much energy was put into segregation (socially, legally, politically) - I mean nowadays, who really gives a damn where one sits in a bus? We don’t even think about it! We read about riots erupting and people getting murdered when public schools were integrated. I can’t imagine that people would be so against African Americans sharing the common process of learning. Isa and I were so excited to drive to Alabama and Mississippi yesterday just so we could say we’ve “been there”, but after reading about the KKK, the Jim Crow laws, lynchings ect that happened there, I felt angry at those states for all the wounds they inflicted. Has anything changed or are the racists of today just the great grandchildren of the segregationists and Confederates?
Positive aspects of the museum were the resilience and strength of the African Americans and also learning about the “sympathizers”- white people who helped develop schools for African Americans in the South, of white lawyers who fought for equality or worked for the NAACP, and white students in the 60’s who participated in marches , sit-ins and Freedom rides with the African Americans. It was inspiring to see a MOVEMENT, a galvinizing of entire communities to fight for something larger than themselves. The civil rights movement inspired music, churches, educational forces, leadership, collaboration and communication across states (without the internet!), touching people’s emotions from the White House to the tiniest dinky towns of Mississippi. It was a movement toward embetterment, and so many people gave their lives for the cause. Assasssination was not only toward Martin Luther King or Malcome X, but countless others whose names don’t even make the history books. At the end, we visited the building and room from where James Earl Ray (or the real killer) shot MLK. Again, more goosebumps. There were artifacts about the shooting, including criminal evidence and a long explanation of conspiracy theories. The only being who really knows who shot MLK is God.
Ok, enough ranting. Sorry but I had to debrief. I was so overwhelmed after the museum, that we drove to the banks of the Mississippi River and sat there on the grass, just to decompress. I watched as African American families picnicked and played on the banks. I thought about Obama and my dearest African American college friends who shared the same education as me and exemplify love, strength, commitment and depth – how could their great grandparents be treated like that? How times have changed but how many people suffered in this long ongoing process to overcome color barriers?
That morning, we made a pilgrimage to Graceland, because it is in the list of the “1000 things to do before you die.” We also happened to be born on Elvis’ birthday, which is our only connection to him. Oh, and we both love a hound dog. So we paid the $27 admission fee to tour his colonial mansion (including ornate and unusually decorated rooms) and read the exhibits about his humble beginnings, his music and movie career and his decadent lifestyle. Although I was impressed by his rise to fame, his charitable contributions and his true, revolutionary talent, I was also struck by the magnitude of social craze and, in a way, WORSHIP and FANATICISM of this one single man whose calling happened to be music. And I have never seen so much Made-In-China Elvis memorabilia in my life. I mean, how many shot glasses does one need?
Oh, by the way, did you know Elvis was born a twin on January 8? His twin was stillborn and is buried next to him and his parents in Graceland. Like many celebrities, he died young, exemplifyingmy belief in quality not quantity of life.
As we departed Graceland, I commented that we needed to go to the National Civil Rights Museum to pay tribute to more socially significant people who deserve just as much fame if not more - Sojourner Truth, Federick Douglass, Martin Luther King, Booker T. Washington, Philip Randall and countless others. Now THEY made a difference.
I hope this post doesn’t offend anyone and apologize if it does. The contrast between Graceland and the Civil Rights museum was noteworthy. Segregation seems still alive and well, but more subtle. We observed more Caucasians at Graceland and more African Americans at the Civil Rights Museum; more Caucasians at country music clubs and more African Americans at blues clubs. Mixed crowds seemed to be a the minority.
In the evening we headed to Beale Street, the main drag in downtown Memphis . It is a 3 block area that boasts 30 restaurants and clubs with live blues and soul music. Historically , it was the heart of African American urban music culture and livelihood since the late 1800’s. Now it is full of great restaurants and aspiring blues, R & B and soul artists. Saxophones and harmonica melodies flooded the streets. Neon lights advertise ribs, gumbo, blues clubs and beer. The beat of the music made me feel alive, like dancing in the street after a big meal of ribs and gumbo. Isa and I pigged out at the Rum Boogie Café, with the Southern Platter- ribs, pulled pork, gumbo, fried green tomatoes, french fries, beans and rice, cole slaw (the only vegetables), cornbread, and fried catfish. Holy shit!! Thank God for enzymes and laxatives. Yes, we ate it all. Damn that was good. * burp*
Too bad we’re missing the International BBQ Championships which start in Memphis next weekend. BBQ anyone?
The previous day on May 10, we did make it to the Rock N’Soul museum in Memphis late in the afternoon after our stint on the Natchez Trace Parkway. We immersed ourselves in a quick rundown of all the fathers of soul, blues and rock. It was a learning experience as I am not savvy on all the “who’s who” in that world. I learned about the strong influence that slavery and segregation had on the music movement in the African American culture. We saw musical treasures like BB King’s guitar, Ike Turner’s suits, Carla Thomas’ shoes, and many, many more. Afterwards we walked down Beale Street to window shop and enjoy the crowds and street entertainers. We enjoyed our first purchased meal of the day (fried catfish) at BB King’s Blues Café, which also had a powerful blues musician – a large African American man donning a white suit, sunglasses and a fedora hat - whose deep voice and animated mannerisms made anyone sway to the rhythm.
Shortly after dinner it began to rain. Within a few minutes, the street became deserted. Being the die-hard tourists that we were, we continued to walk down the street and window shop. Suddenly the rain came down in buckets and thunder and lightening shot through the sky. I have never seen rain come down that hard. The rain created a heavy mist that bounced off the neon signs and formed a curtain of gray. I had no jacket because it was still warm- about 70 degrees. Isa had an umbrella that we shared. It made no difference because the rain was coming down in 4 inch drops at a 45 degree angle. Within 30 minutes, there was a river of water pouring down the street, approximately 5 inches deep. We pushed our way through the street to get to the car. My cast became completely soaked as I stepped into a huge puddle. Finally we arrived to the car and I was drenched. What an adventure- unlike any California rainstorm I’ve ever seen!
As we drove toward the hotel, we were amazed by the sudden emptiness of the streets and the light show in front of our eyes. In the darkness, I unintentionally drove into a flooded street. Despite my persistance on the gas pedal, the foot-high water was slowing the car and we almost stalled. I swerved left and managed to get out of the deepest water before the water entered the car! Whew!!
On Tuesday morning before departing Memphis, we made a quick trip to the Cotton Museum, which is located in the former building of the Memphis Cotton Exchange. The museum depicted the exchange as it was in the 30’s – where trading data was written by hand on chalk boards and data was obtained by telegraph and phone. We learned about the historic, economic and technological aspects of the cotton industry. It was because of Ely Witney’s cotton gin that the slavery business boomed and cotton laborers were in such high demand. It is because of new cotton picking technology after the turn of the century that many African Americans left the rural environment and flocked to the cities for factory work. This became the beginnings of blues in the city. We also learned about how cotton is removed from the seeds and what products are made from cotton- not only clothing and tissue, but also food and toiletries as well.
I learned so much in Memphis. Nonetheless, the Ozarks beckoned us and we departed mid-day on May 12.
May 13
We drove towards Hot Springs, Arkansas, which is listed as another of the “top 1000 things to see before you die.” It is also the hometown of Bill Clinton. There is an “urban” national park there- one of a kind- that protects Hot Springs Mountain, which is famous for (you guessed it) hot springs. These were protected in 1832 by Andrew Jackson and became a national park in the early 1900’s. The hot springs water was considered therapeutic and numerous bathhouses, sanitariums, and rehabilitation centers were established there in the 1920’s. Therefore the so-called national park is adorned with hotels, bathhouse buildings, and shops. There are several trails up the mountains which we hiked up to get a birdseye view of central Arkansas. There were numerous fountains that allow visitors to sample the natural water, including filling jugs with potable hot water. The water was truly scalding, boasting at 143 degrees F.
It was late afternoon and we felt tired. Isa started feeling symptoms of a cold so we found a nearby campground and set up camp next to a whispering stream. We heated up leftovers and decorated the polenta we brought from California with cheese and ham. Our total food budget of the day: $10. Our “hotel” budget of the day: $10 for camping. A good day from a financial standpoint!
We awoke this morning, May 13, the 10th month anniversary of my second transplant. I never would have imagined a year ago that I would be at the foothills of the Ozark National Forest in May 2008. I feel so blessed.
We headed up Highway 7, one of Arkansas’ Scenic Byways. The landscape was dotted with pastures and farms interspersed in the clearcutting of lush, deep forests. Quaint country homes with large porches were mingled with aged, decrepid wooden barns and cabins. Signs of poverty and age were evident by closed inns and decaying cafes. Arkansas to me has more churches than any other state I’ve observed. – some small towns had several huge churches. One in Little Rock was as large as a WalMart!. We were surprised by the number of Confederate flags displayed in people’s yards. Does a Confederate flag to a Southerner symbolize the same thing as it does to us? We found a radio station based in Harrison, Arkansas and listened to talk radio just to get an idea of the culture. We were surprised to hear a show about immigration policy, with people calling in with views that illegal immigrants are the reason gas prices are rising and that they are “taking over the voting process” so they can vote for legislation in their favor. The radio host commented that Hillary is like a “weed” that won’t go away. Most disturbing with a parody of Obama by an impersonator stating that he will “take people’s money away.” I tried to not let my blood boil with views that were offensive to me.
We stopped at the Ozark Café in Jasper, AR for lunch. Jasper is another quaint town with a historic district, antique shops, central plaza, churches and a classic diner. For lunch, I decided to abuse my intestines by having an American classic- chicken fried steak. It was time to overcome my childhood trauma of hospital food chicken fried steak and try the real thing. It was actually tasty, but hardly orgasmic. Isa and I felt stared at, and that people weren’t that friendly. Was our perception valid or were we being hypersensitive? Or do people really treat outsiders differently?
We browsed several local shops, filled with homemade jams, quilts and antiques. I found a great pair of used Levi jean shorts for only $2.50.
The sky was graying and thunderstorm warnings came through the radio. We wanted to capture some outdoors before it was too late so we drove to the town of Ponca at the western end of the Buffalo River, the first designated National Scenic Riverway. We hiked for 3 miles- cast and all- and it was gorgeous. The forest was lush, bright Spring-bloom green, and the river was wide and deep, its sediment causing the water to be green blue. Imagine a picturesque river for fly fishing and that is what it was like. It started to pour just as we were finishing our hike. My cast got soaked – again. I swear when my cast comes off, I would be surprised if I didn’t have mold growing on my skin.
Just as we drove away, we passed a meadow and a female elk was seen in the distance. This area is famous for elk and buffalo preserves. We drove through thick fog to the next town where we hoped to find a hotel since thunderstorms prevented us from camping that night. It was another crockpot night and we enjoyed curry and rice before settling in for the evening.
Thank you for your continued well wishes and interest in our blog.
I hope you have a chance to see the USA the way we have some day. It is truly an eye opening experience and has helped me understand our social and political strengths and weaknesses better.
ANA