Chilling in Chattanooga

This will be a brief post. We all have some awful virus; I think it's the flu because we are so achy and feverish. Will got it first - he says he got it from the Dalai Lama (we saw him speak on Wednesday). Then I got it, then Ben got it. Happily the dogs are all fine. Imagine how bad THAT would be if we had an RV full of sick dogs.

We are all lying about and when we speak it's hard to understand because we are so raspy and congested. Plus we keep making old man noises; groaning every time we stand or roll over or move much at all. We've gotten through most of a bottle of Nyquil, to little effect.

Ben has not yet learned how to swallow pills so I have to keep soaking ibuprofen in juice and mashing it up for him. Ibuprofen is MUCH harder to mash up than aspirin or Tylenol! Has anyone else noticed this? And then he complains because it tastes bad.

It was a real trudge driving from Shiloh to Chattanooga yesterday feeling like this. But I figured it would be good to be closer to drug stores and doctors' offices, etc, if this bug gets much worse. Plus Will's two sisters who live here are both nurses. Bonus. It's hard waiting to see everybody, but I'm sure we are still infectious.

Today Will and I made it out to the grocery store and stocked up on food, and bought a bunch of cheap movies. We are going to have tomato soup and garlic bread, and watch Forrest Gump and then maybe Terminator 3 or Stand By Me.

Here's a funny story about soup and then I'm off to watch the movie. When Abi was about six or seven years old, she came home from a friend's house very excited.

"Mommy, I had the BEST tomato soup! Can we please have some like it?"

I always made them homemade soup from scratch. The kids had not liked my last batch of tomato soup, made with tomatoes from our garden. So I was interested to hear how her friend's family made it differently.

"Sure Abi, what was the tomato soup like?"

"It had a name, Mommy, they called it CAMP-bells. CAMP-bells tomato soup. Could we have some CAMP-bells?"

Sun Studio

Sun studio was the birthplace of rock and roll, and I got to stand in the spot where Rocket ’88, commonly thought to have been the first rock and roll song, was recorded in 1951 and was only a rock song due to the fact that the bands amp had broken on the way there, and they fixed it with scraps of newspaper, giving it the distortion sound famous to rock and roll. I also stood in the spot were Elvis recorded the ten songs that he produced under the sun studio label. Lots of other famous bands have recorded in here.

The studio, at Sun Studio

The first time we went, I didn’t really realize the full scope and scale of the room which I was standing in. Little did I realize that Elvis, U2, Def Leppard, Howlin’ wolf, even the million dollar quartet, all recorded in that room. It was still very enlightening to see the area in which so much had started in, but I didn’t really realize it until the second time that we came (due to Bodie eating poor will’s camera data chip, we went again, because will absolutely needed to get those pictures, so we decided to go again). But luckily, the second trip paid off, as will met some very nice people who then gave him two tickets to see the Dali Lama.

They had lots of cool things belonging to Elvis, including coat, his guitar, the rest of his bands instruments, his original song that he played, and his first TV broadcasting ever. They also had a very interesting timeline of the history of the studio, shown in record cases and starting with Sam Phillips working for a small pop music radio station. But Sam Phillips, he was not happy, so he gathered up enough money and made his own recording studio (with the help of Marion Keisker). At first, to pay the bills, he used mobile recording equipment to record things such as marriages, weddings and funerals.

Elvis on his first TV appearance, with the clothes on display that he wore and other memorabilia, including the guitar.

But this was not what he really wanted to record. He wanted to record blues and other types of music. He got his chance when his first band walked in and wanted to record a song. He happily obliged and recorded their album before sending it off to major producers to mass produce it. The only problem with this is that the companies used their own label, so he was not getting any publicity for all of the records that he was now recording. He later decided to begin producing his own labels and records, so that he could gain publicity.

Sam Phillips

Soon he was realizing stars, like Howling wolf and Elvis. Although, the funny thing is that the first time that he heard Elvis, he was not impressed. But Elvis was originally recognized by Marion Keisker, who continually attempted to make Sam see the light. In about one year, Sam finally gave in and tried him out with some other musicians who he had on hand. After a night of Sam not being impressed, Elvis was just playing around and singing a blues song that he knew when his new band joined in and Sam was finally enlightened to the style that Elvis was best on. The next day, Elvis was invited back to play another song.

Marion Keisker

So much history had happened in that room, that they later bought the room next door after Sam Phillips moved the location of the recording area to one block over. They used it as both a small museum and as starting area for the tours that go through it. I absolutely loved my time there and was very enlightened.

Finding Elvis

We went to Graceland a week ago, and after that we toured Sun Studio, where Elvis began recording; the first steps on the yellow brick road that ends at his grave in Graceland.

I saw his clothes, his guitar, his couch, his pool table, even his social security card. I stood where he recorded his first song, then his first hit record. I saw things directly linked to him, and things indirectly linked to him.

Artifacts, every one of them, of a presence passed. Holy relics of a compromised god, a man gripped in our minds as much by the beauty and spirituality of his music as the garish indulgence of of his potent sensuality.

And of course the split is in our own minds. Did Elvis consider himself sundered, into young Elvis/Fat Elvis. Or Elvis Before the Army, and Elvis After the Army? Or was he just Elvis to himself, always Elvis, nothing more, and nothing less?

So why then do we go to Graceland? And what do we do when we get there? Graceland holds no Ferris wheels, no roller coasters. This is no theme park. Graceland is but a museum and a graveyard.

People pass solemnly through Graceland. You sense respect for the man who died there, and almost an awestruck sense of privilege, getting to walk were he so often walked. and yet why are they here? They share stories about what Elvis meant in their own lives, songs they liked, and more. Some send tributes to Graceland, these floral arrangements and other memorials are displayed near the grave sites, on the way back to the shuttle that returns you across Elvis Presley Boulevard to the entrance and parking lot, the restaurants and themed mini-museums of Elvis.

As we were leaving I casually noticed some fans had written on the wall in front of Graceland.

After a week, I wanted to go back to Graceland. I thought there would be a good opportunity for some people pictures, and maybe a shot of that front wall. I hesitated, but eventually drove back, intending to take a few pictures, traveling alone on this rare occasion.

I went past the parking area, not wanting to pay ten dollars to get out for few pictures. Of course, I couldn't park close for free, so I turned into a residential area. They had "No Parking" signs up for the first block. Then I could park, but it seemed wrong, somehow, to leave my car out in front of someone's house on what felt like false pretenses. I drove back and forth, restlessly, several times in front of Graceland, up and down side streets. Aimless, it seemed. Looking for something.

I finally parked in front of some souvenir stores, and began to walk down the sidewalk toward Graceland, toward the wall.

And then I started to see things. Things that shouldn't have been there. Names that had been written in drying cement after recent renovations, names and dates scrawled on lamp posts - Little tributes to Elvis, and thank yous. Things written where, reasonably, you wouldn't expect anyone to read them.

Along the route.

These weren't boastful loud graffiti slashings, but simple, small handwritten tokens of passage. "I was here." Often just a name and a date. A marker, a quiet marker. And as I neared Graceland they grew thicker in the signs and posts and sidewalks along the way..

And when I reached the wall I saw them everywhere. Even on top of each other.

Walk that wall.

From one end to another it bears name after name, who they are, and when they came here. Dates and names. And with some there is often a personal message.


This isn't on the tour. It's not clean, carefully laid out behind tasteful ropes and shielded by Plexiglas. It's right out there, right on the road, where anyone can see it it, touch it, alter it.

People write on the bricks, the concrete, not so much as to be read, but simply for the act of doing it.



You stand in front of the wall, the ground still damp from the ever present rain, and look at the names, stretching out on either side of you until they can no longer be read. You stand in the center of a community, soulmates for the frozen moment. Even alone you are joined by the thousands who have written here before, and writers whose marks are yet to come.

Cars pass by heedless on the road behind you, as you feel the presence of these other pilgrims, these seeking souls who came to Graceland, and found.

Foodie Post II for Memphis

We are about to head out to Shiloh National Battleground, about 120 miles from Memphis. A few days there then on to Chattanooga, where the boys will visit Chickamauga Battleground, we will see some of Will's family (I'm so excited!) and we'll do some chores that are easier to do in a big city - visit a Camping World, got to Costco, get haircuts, etc.

Memphis has been a wonderful surprise to us, in matters of the spirit and of the flesh. I will return to the former in another post, and focus here on the latter. Specifically on matters of animal flesh, barbecued or deep fried.

As I said in my last post, I did some research on our best eating options in Memphis after my friend Don said that my priority when visiting should be eating as much barbecue as possible. We are trying to stay on budget, so we've been pretty good about keeping in groceries and cooking in the RV. This strategy feel apart in the face of Memphis barbecue.

Here is a partial list of the "must visit" barbecue spots in Memphis, culled from Chowhound posts (I don't know if I mentioned this is the ultimate foodie resource on the web), reviews and friends' recommendations:
Payne's, Central BBQ, Cozy Corner, The BBQ Place, Neely's, Rendezvous, Gilsby's, Tom's, Interstate, Corky's.

After we ate at Payne's, we decided that we could go a little into debt to investigate Memphis barbecue more thoroughly. Our plan was to hit as many of the list above as possible while in Memphis.

The first place we tried, after Payne's, was Cozy Corner. Will and Ben were going into town to visit the Mississippi River Museum, so I asked them to pick up Cozy Corner ribs on their way home, since it was close.

They brought home a big paper bag, full of ribs and half a loaf of white bread. You get that at some BBQ places in Kansas City too. I guess it's to sop up the extra Q sauce, but I'm not a big fan of it. Why would I fill up on Wonder bread when I've got ribs in front of me?

Will and Ben were gushing about Cozy Corner. They said it was a bit run down but nothing like Payne's, and it felt like a real family place. Two boys - maybe 11 and 17 years old - were working the front counter and cash register. Their little sister, about 5 years old, took a liking to Ben and grabbed his hands to get him to dance with her.

We bit into the ribs and stopped and stared at each other. There are no words. I have never tasted anything like that in my life. They were the ultimate food.

On Sunday Will and I picked up ribs at Central BBQ after going to Al Green's church (service was from 11 to 2:45!). Central is in a very nice part of Memphis, with some of the biggest homes I've ever seen. The clientele looked like they had a lot more money too, and the waiters looked like college kids. The ribs were fantastic, but tasted a little over-smoked to me. The flesh was bright pink and it was almost like eating ham in Q sauce instead of ribs. I guess I've been ruined forever by Cozy Corner.

The next day Ben and Will went to Sun Studios (I was working on a chapter, as usual). They stopped off at Cozy Corner on their way home and IT WAS CLOSED. They are closed on Mondays. Gah. So they drove by Central and picked up more ribs. Which were again great, but not as great as Cozy Corner. So the next day Will and I picked up ribs at Cozy Corner. They were still the best ribs, but not quite as good as the first time. I don't THINK this is because I was tired of BBQ. I think it must just be really tricky to get everything exactly right.

In between all this ribs eating, we had breakfast at Miss Cordelia's on Mud Island. This is a very fancy part of town. It was odd to see new condos and nice cars and people jogging with baby strollers, after being in our part of Memphis for a week. Miss Cordelia's is an upscale grocery store with a little diner attached, kind of like a Bristol Farms but smaller and not a chain. They had several different kinds of goood coffee. Bliss. Ben and Will both had breakfast panini and I had a muffin stuffed with eggs and bacon. We bought some coffee and nice cheese and bread to bring back to the RV.

One final foodie report: Will and I went to Beale Street on Saturday night. An amazing experience, especially a street performer, a Mississippi Hills blues musician named Richard Johnston. We tried a Dyer's hamburger and fries there. The hamburger was a bit greasy but the fries were perfect. Dyer's advertises that they cook everything in 100 year old grease. Since they opened, they have strained their grease every night and added new as needed. When they moved to Beale Street a few years ago, they made a big deal out of bringing the grease along under police escort.

Bodie Sattva

Sun Studio, on Union Avenue in Memphis

In the RV, we use the term "Bodhisattva" to refer to one who shows or teaches the way to enlightenment, similar to the classical Buddhist definition.

Of course, being taught or shown the path to enlightenment is not always an easy thing. We look at any difficulty as being an opportunity for examining one's self, and learning how to handle desire and disappointment in life.

Now, when one thinks of disappointment and hardships in the RV, one naturally looks to the dogs.

And not just any dog.

No, there's one who hands out hard lessons in humility and facing ones own weaknesses, on an almost daily level.

Guess who?

Yup.

Here's a recent shot of him - it's not very good, but it shows the surroundings we have right now, where we walk the dogs.

That's him on the left, running full tilt through the water. Good boy, Bodie. Stupid dog.

He likes the water. He likes mud too. We have a huge mat outside for Bodie to lie on, to keep himself clean and comfortable. If he goes to the very end of his leash, he can actually lie in a patch of mud.

Guess what?

Bodie goes to the end of his leash.

He also dumps his food bowl on the ground so the food gets all wet and inedible (apparently) and then takes his bowl and chews on it. Bodie likes to chew things. We have a whole bunch of blankets in the RV that started out as blankets, but are now promoted to dog blankets. They have great gaps in them. Thank you Bodie.

Oh, and my bed that deflated, so that I sleep on plywood for fun parts of each night - we think Bodie might have helped with all that. He definitely helped get the extra feathers out of the duvet. He's been a great help to all of us in showing us our limitations, and how life should be lived, by a dog who is always in the moment. Very in the moment, usually soaking wet, covered in mud, and bouncing all over the place.

Which brings us to Sun Studio. This is the place where Elvis recorded his first song, where B.B. King and Howling Wolf and Ike Turner and Johnny Cash and Jerry Lee Lewis and Carl Perkins and so many more began their careers. The first ever rock and roll song was recorded in this room.

And that's all it is, just one room, with a control room in the back and an office in the front. All the music happened in this one spot. There's an X on the floor where Elvis sang "That's All Right Mama," his breakthrough song that won him a contract.

Our tour guide put on "I Walk the Line" by Johnny Cash, which was recorded right where we were standing. He paused it, then showed us how Cash had woven paper through the strings of the guitar to get the distinctive sound we could hear in that song, then passed the guitar to a gray haired man in the tour, passed him a pick and asked him to strum it so we could hear it. The man did, and as the guide turned the music back on, the impromptu guitarist played and sang along, as the rest of us joined in.

A beautiful, spontaneous moment. I got the shot, showing the man's hand a blur on the strings with people around him in the hallowed studio. I got other shots as well; shots of the studio, shots of Ben with a microphone Elvis probably used to record his songs here.

I reviewed them all in the camera, and was very pleased and excited to have them - I thought they were some of the most meaningful ones I'd taken in a few months, and certainly in Memphis.

I brought them home, delicately tucked away inside the camera's memory card. I took the card out; I had plans for those pictures.

But of course, Bodhisattva had a lesson for me about the differences between desire, plans, and and simple enjoyment of whatever life holds.

Good boy Bodie. Stupid dog.

Memphis

Towers along the Mississippi River near Beale Street

Thus far, my time camping in Memphis has been a blast. All of the tourist attractions are great fun and being in the birthplace of the blues has been a truly enlightening subject for my studies. I have started to take my placement exams to see which level of math I am going into (frown). But other than that, my time in memphis has been a nonstop blast to the past.

Mom, being a foodie, has been totally up on the food culture of Memphis, meaning that we have gone to tons of barbeque restaurants in the past six days. Gus’s fried chicken had great chicken tenders and great root beer too. The Cozy Corner had the best ribs I had ever eaten and was a very cozy corner as well. Today, we had central barbeque, which supposedly had the best ribs in Memphis, but in my opinion, they don’t even compare to cozy corners. I have learned a lot about what good barbeque really tastes like.

Though the living conditions of the RV have been steadily decreasing due to dogs, rain and king of the stupids liking to dump his food on the ground before eating it, my time in the RV is steadily becoming more and more fun. I am beginning to get used to the regular traditions of the RV and am beginning to get really into it. I only wish that I could have more time outside.

The Martin Luther King assassination site, at the Lorraine motel, as seen from the approximate location of the assassin.

On Friday, Will, Mom and I all hopped in the car and took off for the Civil Rights Museum. After the short drive to the museum, we hopped back out of the car to the view of a wreath hanging from the balcony of the Loraine hotel, the place where Martin Luther King, Jr. was assassinated. We slowly walked through the museum, taking a look at every exhibit. Across the street, in the building that Ray had shot Martin from, was another gallery, which we took the time to look at.

On Beale Street

Ben throws a right in a speakeasy brawl.

We went to another main attraction, Beale Street, the next day. Full of live performances, restaurants, bars and more, we did not have the time to tour the whole area, but we saw a good portion of it. Yesterday, Mom and Will went clubbing at night on Beale street. Due to age restrictions, I could not go with them.

Foodie Post I for Memphis

Will makes us breakfast most mornings, of fresh rice, eggs over medium, and sausages for the boys (I can't have sausages because they give me a migraine). This morning I was working away on a chapter that is due tomorrow and Ben started singing as he made up his plate. "I bring home the sausagggggge/Fry it up in a pan." Without missing a beat, Will chimed in "Eat it with some turtlessss/And a guy named Hungry Dan."

So we always have a wonderful breakfast. Even when we are being "healthy", Will cooks up steel-cut oats and I have it with fruit and milk. And the day always begins with really good coffee.

Here in Memphis we are eating well at every meal. Maybe too well. We had originally planned to stop in Memphis only briefly, on our way to Shiloh, Tennessee, the site of an important Civil War battle. But I found a really nice campground only six miles from Graceland, and then there is Beale Street, and Sun Records. And the National Civil Rights Museum, based in the motel where Martin Luther King was shot. I wrote a post for the last that was up for about an hour, but it was so negative I pulled it. I think I need to process for a while before I try writing about that again. It was incredibly moving and distressing.

Ben at Gus's World Famous Fried Chicken
So here we are still in Memphis a week later, and the idea of leaving tomorrow is killing me. I wonder if we are going to fall in love with every place we stay? I told Will that it feels like I start to put out little rootlets wherever we are, then it's time to move on and it's wrenching. It takes me a couple of days to recover. The boys are good to go for the next adventure, but I'm still pining for the last place. With Mom and Dad's place of course it's worse, that feels like I got pulled by my taproot. (Is this getting too weirdly biological? I'll stop now.)

I wanted to write about the food here, because I have had some of the best meals of my life in Memphis. Specifically, Gus's fried chicken and Cozy Corner ribs. Plus some other good stuff in between.

We knew that Memphis barbecue is world famous, but coming from Kansas City with it's terrific barbecue, we weren't too worked up about it. I had a long list of BBQ places to visit, based on friends' suggestions, Chowhound posts and reviews (here's a great one from a Memphis newspaper).

Heading into Gus's World Famous Fried Chicken
Will gets cravings for fried chicken, so the first place we visited wasn't barbecue, it was Gus's World Famous Fried Chicken, right off of Beale Street. It was a funky old diner and it took forever for the chicken to get to us, but I drank a whole lot of sweet tea (I love sweet tea! I love the south!) while we waited. It was worth the wait - the best fried chicken I have ever eaten. It's kind of spicy and Ben didn't really like it. Will said it was almost as good as Kentucky Fried Chicken (!!!!). The thighs were the best by far; I guess I'm no longer a breast woman, they just get too dry. I also ordered a piece of sweet potato pie, but couldn't finish it. I haven't had enough sweet potato pie to figure out whether it's just not my thing (not worth the calories) or that theirs wasn't great. I would have liked to have gone to the original Gus's in Mason, Tennessee, but I still give these guys five stars out of five. A definite "must visit" if you are in Memphis, especially because they are so close to Beale Street.

Our first BBQ place was Payne's, because EVERYBODY who lives in Memphis says they have the best BBQ pork sandwiches, chopped or shredded. This was quite an experience. The park we are camping in (T.O. Fuller State Park) is on the southern edge of Memphis, in a very rundown part of town. But I have never seen such a scary area as Payne's is in. The reviews called this part of town "sketchy" and said not to go there after dark. Over half the shops were boarded up and lots had weeds growing in front of them. I took comfort in the observation that our car was as old as most of the cars we saw there.

Payne's BBQ
We pulled up to Payne's and the front of the store was unprepossessing; some dusty plastic flowers and old newspapers in the front window. We walked in to a shop that, honestly, I am amazed hasn't been shut down. Big chunks of the ceiling were missing as were pieces of flooring. It looked like it hadn't been cleaned in about forty years and it *certainly* hadn't had new furniture or fixtures in that long. An old TV sitting on a chair was broadcasting an episode of Judge Judy.

The ceiling has seen better days, maybe 40 years ago or so
A guy walked slowly up to the counter from the back of the shop, which was completely dark. Before we could say anything he said "I don't have no ribs." That was okay, because we were there for the sandwiches. I asked for a diet coke and he said "I only got Coke." Ben asked for a Dr. Pepper and he repeated "I only got Coke." Ben tried one more time (he can be a bit slow) and asked for root beer and was told "I only got Coke." I felt like we were in the Monty Python cheese skit or the Saturday Night Live hamburger shop skit "No Pepsi, Coke".

The counter at Payne's BBQ
Turns out he only had Bubba Cola, which we nursed while waiting for our sandwiches. We couldn't see what was happening, since it was so dark in the back, but we heard loud chopping then silence then more chopping on and off for about ten minutes.

It was worth the wait. The sandwiches came on huge buns loaded with chopped barbecue pork and a mustardy cole slaw. I think the cole slaw put the sandwich into the realm of godlike, but both of the boys scraped it off theirs before eating. They still thought it was great.

Waiting for our sandwiches
I was disconcerted by my nervousness at being in this neighborhood. I thought about white people being killed by black people in ghettos (we hadn't seen another white person for miles) and I figured the number was probably ludicrously low, even when calculating it by person-hours in a ghetto. I wondered if I would have been as nervous in a white neighborhood that was this rundown, and I realized that I haven't ever seen such a thing. Which tells you something, doesn't it?

Next post: Cozy Corner and Central BBQ. Dyer's burgers and fries cooked in 100-year-old grease. Miss Cordelia's for breakfast and groceries.

I've Been to the Mountaintop

Delivered the day before his death.

I had forgotten King was assassinated in Memphis, until I read a sign on Beale Street that casually mentioned it as a factor in the area's decline.

I remember his assassination vividly, as I watched television alone one night and they interrupted programming to announce it. I had no idea who he was, but I went and told my mother, and she knew all about him. Like the JFK assassination, my experience of this event is colored by the reactions of the people around me. By the time Bobby Kennedy went down, I was politically and culturally savvy enough to have at least a partial grasp of it's meaning on my own.

I had seen signs for the Civil Right Museum; I had not realized it incorporated the Lorraine Motel, as well as the rooming house from which the shots were fired. I'd had the impression the hotel had become derelict, and possibly torn down. Obviously this is not the case.

Ben and I will go to the museum later today.

Graceland

Today Will, Mom and I went to Graceland. After a short, rainy drive, we pulled up to security and paid off the guard before proceeding into the park. We hopped into the shuttle that took us to the main attraction, Elvis’s house. We were all received at the gates of Graceland. I stood at Graceland’s doors, staring up into the spot in which Elvis had died.

I proceeded into the house. After looking at and learning about his living and dining room, we continued in through the rest of the downstairs (upstairs was off-limits, Elvis only brought people in the downstairs).


Elvis had a room made solely for watching TV! It had three TVs all on the same wall. This was so that Elvis could watch three different programs at once. He could watch news, entertainment and his own shows all at the same time! Also, one of the walls had the initials TCB on it. This meant taking care of business. Behind it, there was a thunderbolt, which was Elvis’s personal symbol.


Also, he had a pool room which him and his friends all played pool in whenever they hung out. Outside was Vernon’s office, with three desks for Elvis’s personal secretaries. After exiting the building, I saw the large back yard in which Elvis had horses and go-karts. Across the way were two buildings containing all of Elvis’s achievements.


At the very end of the tour was Elvis’s grave. It was placed right in between his parents and his grandmother. This was a very deep moment for me, as, even today, Elvis is still amazingly well-known. He was the one who really started what is, today, my favorite style of music. It was very possible to imagine after this wonderful tour, what Elvis’s life was like and how he died.
Afterwards, we had lunch. We continued on to the other attractions but, naturally, none were even close to as amazing as the first. There was one in which we toured the inside of Elvis’s private jets. This one was very cool, because it was so fancy. I mean heck, you could sleep in them. In another, we saw all of the cars that he had owned in his lifetime. The last and least exciting was the one describing his military career.

Received at Graceland

We are in Memphis for a few days, to see Graceland and Beale Street and try out some Memphis barbecue and fried chicken. Oh, and I have a chapter to complete. Then we move on to Shiloh so the boys can continue their study of Civil War battlefields.

We visited Graceland yesterday. It was expensive ($33 each), but I'm so glad we did it. It is a piece of Americana that anyone born in the last century should see if they get a chance. I've always loved Elvis's music, but I think it will be a much richer experience listening to him now.

Will and I were talking about how much our perception of Elvis has changed since we were kids. By the time we were aware of music, he had been out of the loop for a while - he just did movies from 1961-68, and they were pretty awful movies. His 1968 comeback concert was incredible, but then he rapidly became "70s Elvis", "Vegas Elvis". When I saw his concerts (on TV, never live) I saw a portrait in excess - the jewelry, the sequin-encrusted jumpsuits, the bloated, sweaty face. His fans seemed to be exclusively older women who had seen him in his beautiful, beautiful youth and kept the faith. And then all the weirdness after he died, the hysteria and then the "sightings" of his ghost. His music got lost in all that.

Paul Simon's album Graceland (which I think is one of the most brilliant albums of all time, with a title track that is one of the most brilliant songs of all time) gave me a different spin on Elvis. I'm trying to think of what it was about it that did that. I love the idea of embracing the excesses of popular culture, that it doesn't have to be highbrow to be worthwhile. The idea of redemption through music. The idea of being part of a community of pilgrims, all suffering, all seeking.

Honestly, I think Graceland (Paul Simon's Graceland) changed me forever. It's a powerful message, to be reminded that we are all in it together, all feeling the same things and wanting the same things. A great message to get at the start of graduate school, when it is very easy to get wrapped way up inside your own head and disconnect from the people around you.

So maybe the visit to Graceland was as much about Paul Simon's vision of Graceland as it was about Elvis's Graceland.

But it did give me insight into Elvis. The most endearing thing to me about him was his love for his family and his home. There is a video clip of him right after he had come back from serving in the Army, where reporters ask him if he is going to sell Graceland and he says that Graceland is home and he always wants to be there (I don't have that exactly right, but that's the gist of it).

There's not much else endearing about him, honestly. The bling and the excess are amusing. His voice is phenomenal and his music is still so powerful. Especially listening to it here, where it all began. But the strongest message I got here - and probably each of us gets a different message, depending on what we are looking for and what we are needing - is his deep sense of place, in the heart of the South and the heart of his family.

Elvis lives.

Glory Glory

Graceland.

The mansion is surprisingly small to have housed such a larger than life icon. While it's flamboyantly decorated, I remember my own home in the seventies having orange carpets, and even an orange couch. Those were times of extravagant statements, and Elvis' home is forever frozen in that time. Plus, hey, it's Elvis. If anybody should be free of the beige walls and subdued tones of modern decorating, it's him.

What makes the place compelling is knowing that you are looking at the rooms he lived in, walked around, and sang in. Rooms of legend, such as the Music Room, the Jungle Room, and the TV Room. They seem very simple, almost unassuming considering how big they loom in the Elvis mythos, for they are really only rooms, not all that different from the rooms in anybody's house. So much of the drama of Elvis' life played out in this little space; they seem too slight to have contained it all.

The rooms, and the grounds themselves are really only touchstones to help one reflect on the whole story of Elvis - his impact on society, and the way he chose to seek happiness. He's a powerful figure; just walking the length of the trophy hall and the yards of gold records flanking the wall says so much.

And then at the end of it all you see his grave, the tributes of his fans, and the resting places of his grandmother and parents. Above all else, you get a strong sense of Elvis as a family man, not just his own family but those who worked for him as well. He's the poor boy who made good, and didn't forget anyone.

Good place to visit - something to take with you when leave for sure.

They had this video playing on a monitor in there. The finale, well, it's Elvis in full glory. Awesome.



Rest in peace dude.

Six Miles from Graceland

We came into Memphis on a rain-scattered evening; setting up to discover we were only six miles from Graceland.

Almost there. Sleeping in the shadow of Elvis tonight.

We started at seven this morning, and traveled singing along with Graceland, Walking in Memphis, and a slew of Elvis songs. We've called it a pilgrimage, in the spirit of Paul Simon, and a little reflection makes me realize how pivotal his song was in bringing me here.

When Elvis died, the sensational aspects of his life overwhelmed the art. For so long he was a joke, simply fat Elvis, who died unpoetically.

But Paul Simon, in the leavings of a dying marriage, felt compelled to visit Graceland, the center of everything lurid and tacky about Elvis, and turned it into a spiritual journey. Suddenly Graceland had a deeper meaning.

Was the meaning there all along, or did Paul Simon impart a meaning where previously there was none?

Or is meaning simply where we decide to find it?

Ever since 1986 I have wanted to visit Graceland. Twenty some years have gone by, in which I've learned to see the sublime in the trivial, and the sacred in the profane. And now tomorrow I walk up to Graceland at last.

Is it too much to hope for a spiritual moment, a fleeting touch of the grace and forgiveness we crave?

Well then how about a shot glass?

Long live the King...

I have reason to believe ...

I'm going to Graceland,
For reasons I cannot explain
There's some part of me wants to see
Graceland,
And I may be obliged to defend
Every love every ending
Or maybe there's no obligations now,
Maybe I've a reason to believe
We all will be received
In Graceland





Put on my blue suede shoes
And I boarded the plane
Touched down in the land of the Delta Blues
In the middle of the pouring rain



We head out tomorrow for Memphis.

The Air Combat & National Guard Museums

Today, Will and I went to both the Air Combat and National Guard museums (they were right next to each other). After the thirty-minute drive to get to the airstrip (both museums were placed in the vicinity of an air force refueling station), we disembarked from our small Honda Odyssey to the site of three large missiles and a cannon. After a while of looking at and taking pictures, we walked into the large hangar that was the museum. Then, a quick chat with the gift shop clerk, some money exchanging hands, and we were off to see the main attraction, the planes.

Ben outside the museum

Mig 15

We walked through the first hangar, Will noting to me all the different kinds of planes, including a few MIGs, which Will was very excited about. The one thing that got me excited though was the large transport helicopter at the far side of the hangar, which we actually got to get into and look around at the inside (I was so excited about this because I REALLY like helicopters and think they are awesome).

Ben inside a CH-46 Sea Knight

Will inside a CH-46 Sea Knight

We were on our way to the next hangar when we remembered that there were two planes parked between the hangars, one of which we actually got inside of. The one that we got inside of was a command and intelligence plane with large radar domes and lots of cushy seats inside. The other was yet another MIG, very exciting. There were also a few APCs and artillery pieces, but these were boring to me and Will’s standards.

EC-121T Warning Star - Military version of the Super Constellation. Used as an early warning system to supplement the DEW line. Cool stuff about it here.

Ben checking out a radar station on the Warning Star

A Self Propelled Gun

Polish MiG 17 - unrestored.

The second hangar was full of multiple finished planes, but also had lots of works in progress. One that was particularly interesting was a cargo helicopter, which could actually sever its line if the wind picked up, using shaped explosives. Also, there were lots of cool navy and air force jets as well as a cool Huey helicopter. I especially liked the Huey helicopter because it was the gunship model, meaning that it had lots of rockets and machine guns strapped on. The second hangar was just as, if not more, interesting than its predecessor.

The main hook on the Sikorsky helicopter. Position of the shaped charge is marked by the arrow.

A Huey helicopter.

Afterwards, we went to the National Guard museum, which had lots of cool tanks and things. One that I really liked was the Abrams, and I think that Will probably did too. It is the one American tank, which has never been destroyed in combat. I even got to hold a real present-day bazooka. I enjoyed both museums and I hope Will did too.

M1 Abrams tank

Ben trying out a bazooka

Another Big Tank