Walking to Memphis

Arkansas Street and the Memphis Inferiority Complex

2009-12-08T11:32:00.003-06:00

Last night a friend texted me, asking about my whereabouts. My response was "Driving around looking for the residences of fictional characters." Shelby Foote has long been one of my favorite historians/Memphians and I just finished one of his later novels- September, September. Set in Downtown in 1957, it is the odd and humorous tale of three cons who kidnap the grandson of a prominent black businessman and attempt to pin the crime on white supremacists. Since Foote is a much better historian than storyteller, the book is full of minutely detailed specifics of Memphis in the 1950s. It tickled me to no end to read a book set in my own neighborhood and of course I had to attempt to find the featured locations. The house inhabited by the kidnappers was set in the South Bluffs neighborhood Foote himself lived in when he first came to Memphis in the 1950s. Interestingly I found an interview with him from a 1954 Commercial Appeal where he makes eerily accurate predictions about the future of Memphis-- "Foote believes the area where he is living in Memphis-- on Arkansas St-- may well become the Sutton Place of Memphis. Sutton Place in New York City was once a slum area jammed against the side of the East River. However, it has been taken over by the very rich and is now probably the most expensive real estate site in Manhattan. 'It's going to be a nice neighborhood' said Foote." True to his prediction, Arkansas St, once a two block stretch at the west end of Carolina; has now been engulfed by high rise condominiums. The bungalow his September, September protagonist inhabits at 279 Vance is now an empty field.

In reading more of Shelby Foote's interviews I found him to be quite the kindred spirit as I could wholeheartedly relate to his love of Memphis-- a mature, realistic love where he recognizes the city's flaws and history, yet still sees the potential she has and the impact she has made on the world. Like us, Foote didn't move here until he was grown. This backs my belief that it takes an outsider to truly appreciate this city. Since our arrival we have seen much of the infamous Memphis Inferiority Complex, always from natives and interestingly enough always ones who live out east rather than Downtown or Midtown. When they learn we came from the Midwest we are met with raised eyebrows and disbelief that we would choose Memphis. They ask "why?" and our response is always "it's home." After they blink a few times they usually give us a few words of warning such as "Your car will get broken into!" or a patronizing "Well... I hope you stay..." with absolutely no faith that we will stay once we see the Memphis they know.

We see the bad parts of Memphis. We hear the tales and we watch the news and we walk past Jackie outside the Civil Rights Museum nearly everytime we walk our dogs. We see shady people case our neighborhood bar (and watch the bartender chase them out with a stick,) we padlock our grill to our patio, and never leave anything in our cars. We see panhandlers posing as tour guides and our neighbors calling the police on robbers breaking into businesses on our street. However, we were fortunate enough to have spent the 80s and 90s safely some 500+ miles away. We missed Memphis at her worst-- we never shopped at the Mall of Murder, we never even had Herenton as mayor. The Downtown we know is safe and vibrant. Had we grown up here I am sure we would suffer from the same jaded attitudes and inferiority complex that many locals harbor. Since we didn't, it is far easier to focus on the positives when you've never seen the negatives. Memphis is held hostage by its past to say the very least. On the Commercial Appeal boards recently I saw someone post "I never take my family Downtown because I love them too much for them to get shot." I can only assume the last time this person was Downtown was 1989. As long as Memphians keep their eyes on the past rather than the now and the future, the city will never reach its full potential. Don't get me wrong, Memphis' past will always shape it. As Shelby Foote said "I find it hard to think of Memphis without thinking in terms of the past." Unfortunately, letting the past shield them from the current reality robs these naysayer natives of the beautiful city that already surrounds them.

One month ago today...

2009-11-10T14:12:00.002-06:00

we quit our jobs down at the car wash and left our Mama a goodbye note...hitchhiked all the way down to Memphis, got a room at the YMCA. Not exactly, but Jerry Reed has a much better way with words than I.

In one month we have had any expectations we had knocked off the box and surpassed by astronomical proportions. The apartment is absolutely gorgeous and perfect and eerily all of the paint and carpet colors match all of our stuff. The exact moment our house was closing I was enjoying pedicures at the Peabody with my new sidekick neighbor/LBF 5.0. The first weekend we were here we had our minds blown by the spectacle that is the Downtown Olympics and we fortunate to be involved as videographer and trophy girl/assistant to the director. The weekend after that was River Arts Fest right outside our front door, where we found the first new pieces for our new place coincidentally made by a talented friend. I've ventured to the West Memphis Wal-Mart and vowed to never return again. I've gotten hooked up at the Pottery Barn and Williams Sonoma outlet and purchased gold schrunchies from American Apparel just down the street. We attended a party at an indoor trailer court-- easily the coolest thing we've ever seen. We've thrifted like nobodies business and was delighted to find the Goodwills are still priced reasonably as opposed to where we come from. We've joined MPACT and the South Main Association and Memphis Heritage. Most importantly, we both got our first paid acting gigs with a new troupe that will be performing in the Beignet Cafe. Yes, paid. Money for something I would do for free. Theatre used to be such a huge part of my life and for the longest time I assumed I would never act again. As LBF 5.0 says "Everyday in Memphis there is opportunity for an adventure." Truer words have never been spoken (except perhaps those of Dennis Quaid portraying Jerry Lee Lewis... "If I'm goin' ta hell, I'm goin' there playin' the peeeano!)

The only real negative we've experienced is the good ol' Memphis inferiority complex, but that is another entry in itself.

We arrived at our new place last night...

2009-10-11T10:19:00.002-05:00

and found this along with a TCB shot glass and a bottle of Mongolian fire oil. Brought a tear to my eye as soon as I finished screaming.

Outing myself...

2009-10-09T18:43:00.001-05:00

on account of the very kind article on the Smart City Memphis blog about the mister.

Another 48 hours...

2009-10-08T17:04:00.002-05:00

Today I had to return some things at the mall. I had forgotten my credit card so they had to look it up using my license. It didn't work for my current zip code and the sales clerk wondered if it could be under another. I realized that I had already changed my address on that account and for the first time I got to give 38103 as my zip code.

It's supposed to snow here on Sunday so we are getting out in the nick of time.

Things I cannot even fathom from where I am at the moment...

2009-09-17T08:08:00.002-05:00

but I'm really looking forward to...

1. Historical markers right outside my door!
2. The ability to walk and procure just about anything we could ever need!
3. Having a best friend who just lives on the other side of my living room wall!
4. Easily attainable fried pickles!
5. NBA games just a stones throw away!
6. Green license plates!
7. Living in a place that necessitates the purchase of FLOR!
8. Drinkable tap water!
9. Snow being the exception and not the rule!
10. Only one month of the year having the average low be below freezing (and only 31 degrees at that!)
11. Having actual things to do and people to see!
12. Never having to negotiate designated driver duty again!
13. Pink mace keychains!
14. The free meditation hour at 7am daily at the Graceland meditation gardens!
15. Cheap booze! (relatively speaking)
16. Whole Foods, Sephora, and the Williams Sonoma outlet all within a 30 minute drive!
17. Meyer lemon trees indoors!
18. Price Chompers also known as movie night!
19. Patio gardens!
20. Being surrounded by like minded individuals!

A title escapes me at the moment...

2009-09-15T18:40:00.001-05:00

but just in the nick of time we accepted an offer on our house today, sealing our fate. As of 10/10/09 we're Memphians complete with a 901 phone number and tequila.

Way Down

2009-08-19T10:30:00.001-05:00

He had dreamt of Beale Street long before he ever saw it, from the stories Uncle Silas had spun, and his first view of it, at sixteen had not failed to live up to his expectations... he was drawn, it seemed, almost inexorably to Beale because "to me Beale Street was the most famous place in the South. We got in at five or six o'clock in the morning and it was pouring down rain, but we judt drove up and down, and it was so much more than I had ever envisioned. I don't know if I can explain it to this day-- my eyes had to be very big, because I saw everything, from winos to people dressed up fit to kill, young, old, city slickers, and people straight out of the cotton fields, somehow or another you could tell: every damn one of them was glad to be there. Beale Street represented for me something that I hoped to see one day for all people, something that they could say, I'm a part of this somehow." This was Sam Phillips' vision, and he kept it with him when he moved to Memphis with his wife and infant son some six years later. Memphis had drawn him like a magnet, but not for the elegant appointments of the Hotel Peabody or the big band broadcasts from the Skyway. It was Beale Street that lured him in a way he would never be able to fully explain and Beale Street with which, as it was, he could never be fully comfortable.
-Peter Guralnick Last Train to Memphis

We got the house up for sale two weeks ago and were fortunate enough to get two offers within the first three days, and we were unfortunate enough to have them both fall through. Now we have no potential buyers and a house that looks like a storage facility for Better Homes and Gardens. As my Memphis lifeline (or LBF 5.0) says "fate hasn't cooperated this much just to let you down." However, I fear it has. It is terrible to feel completely powerless, to know that we have done all we can and that it is out of our hands. This wouldn't be half as bad if we didn't have our dream apartment to lose. Whether we sell now or two years from now, South Main will always be there, but this apartment wont. I also feel guilty for worrying about such a petty problem and not counting our countless blessings. We have each other and a roof over our heads and a steady paycheck and a safe neighborhood and three of the best pets anyone could ask for and our health and a path to follow in life. I just wish I could be satisfied with those things until we get on our path.

Check's in the mail...

2009-07-30T12:53:00.000-05:00

for the deposit on the best damn apartment in all of South Main if I do say so myself. A great big thank you to LBF 5.0 for the hookup, without her we'd still be stuck in red tape over an overpriced and too small condo. The house will be listed on Tuesday, which just happens to be my birthday so here's hoping I'll receive the gift that keeps on giving-- a solid offer on this suburban monstrosity.

The Penultimate

2009-07-24T19:14:00.002-05:00

Each day brings us closer to moving as my favorite pen pal/Libra best friend version 5.0 has provided us the invaluable service of condo detective. Also, I have spent the past week on an Adderall and piss and vinegar filled bender of working on getting this house up for sale. Gone are the Miami Vice-ish pastel entryway and the chartreuse walkout basement, replaced with the far more palatable "Basket Beige" and a color that I can only define as "Asshole Green*." Overhauling this house has been quite cathartic and rather than making me all sentimental and wanting to stay (as I feared it would) it has been a real eyeopener to the mire we have allowed ourselves to wallow in for the past four years. The #1 rule of packing for Memphis is to only bring the stuff we truly love, which ends up equaling maybe 1/4 of all our crap. We don't need this. All we need is this ashtray... and this paddleball game. But that's it...

LBF 5.0 has been enticing me daily with her sweet siren songs of malt liquor and vodka drank out of mason jars and 96.1 FM The Pig. Listening to The Pig while painting led to some tears on my paint brush as "You Aint Woman Enough to Take My Man" by Loretta Lynn came on. It just keeps getting better.

And now is the time for Freaks and Geeks, taco pizza, and Moet et Chandon. And the nightly firefly show. Gotta enjoy these last few midwestern pleasures while the gettin' is good, because my God- we are really getting out of here!

*not the color of an asshole, but the type of color that an asshole would paint their kitchen.

At least King Willie wont be our mayor now.

2009-06-25T14:54:00.002-05:00

This blog is proving far more difficult for me than I had anticipated. First, I feel pigeonholed by a need to keep things humorous. Secondly, I don't like short entries. Lastly, this is such an emotional and complicated time for me that most of the time I am at a loss for words to convey my feelings accurately. We are being torn every which way emotionally and logically. Our acquaintances think we are not only crazy, but stupid. Who would give up a well paying job with benefits and sell a house in order to move to the city with the 3rd highest level of crime in the U.S? If we aren't being warned about the heat, we're being warned of "rednecks," and on down the brutally un-PC and terrible trains of thought of the people who surround us. The logic behind "we're not happy here" is lost on most, because happiness is equated with the aforementioned well paying job. If we were 22 and fresh out of college, our plans would not be questioned and would most likely be encouraged. However, we have spent far too many years in midwestern middle class paradise. To most our next step should be to move to a bigger house in a better neighborhood and bear some children. Anything less is a step backwards.

It isn't as if we need external approval from our peers for our choices, it's the fact that these are people who we considered our friends who we now realize know absolutely nothing about us. Now I've started second guessing things in really philosophical ways-- such as do we 'deserve' to move to Memphis? Is it selfish and wrong to give up a good job in the middle of a recession? A job that Z was lucky to get no less, after the two of us were laid off. Are we just immature/narcissistic new millenials or whatever who have no appreciation of a solid job and nice home? You'd be surprised how "deep" these questions get at around 3 am.

Christopher Tracy's parade

2009-06-04T14:19:00.004-05:00

Things are so close yet so far right now. I wish we had gotten out of here when we were just finishing college like everyone else, when all it took was a little cash and a car that would make it wherever it needed to. The trappings (such a dramatic word) of the life that we do not want to lead are bearing down on us. As far as I'm concerned we could sell it all and hit the open road this afternoon, we know where we want to be, why can't we just get there already? I'm too impatient to think practically. What does health insurance and paid vacation and a house matter if you aren't happy?

On a lighter note, I am absolutely delighted by the concept of dog seat belts. Diet Cherry Dr. Pepper with Bacardi, Urban Decay's Pocket Rockets (lip glosses with scantily clad men on them), and a 1980s anti-Satanism VHS for teenagers, are also tickling my fancy as of late. As is this picture of Prince when he was in high school...

Yes, Prince. If you haven't seen Under the Cherry Moon, I suggest you do so.

Tennesseein' is Tennebelievin'

2009-04-10T10:29:00.003-05:00

My anticipation for the move down under is not strictly limited to things within the Memphis city limits. As if the city didn't have enough to offer us, it also provides close proximity to many temptations which tickle our fancy. Such as Dayton, TN (a mere five hour road trip) home of my personal favorite trial of the 20th century- the Scopes "Monkey" trial, which in 1925 dealt a considerable blow to faith in the age old battle of science vs. faith, in a showdown between Charles Darrow and William Jennings Bryan. Bryan actually died a few days after the trial, during which he spent much of his time wandering the town of Dayton in a pith helmet. You'd better believe each June will find ourselves at the town's yearly reenactment of the trial.

And on our way to Dayton we can stop in Bell Buckle, TN for their annual RC Cola and Moon Pie Festival. Lordy, lordy. The mister just experienced his first Moon Pie, a lemon one from a gas station in Arkansas. Growing up they were only sold around these parts for Halloween which understandibly led to the hoarding of the precious orange frosted Moon Pies.

Only two and a half hours will separate us from Loretta Lynn's Hurricane Mills plantation. We were fortunate enough to see Ms. Loretta perform in the spring of 2008, complete with lavender taffeta ball gown. The only disappointment was that her granddaughter sang Rated X instead of Retty. Brought a tear to my eye.

Of course on the subject of country music one cannot forget Dollywood and that other city in the middle of Tennessee. We'd never want to live in rhinestone country, but we'd sure like to visit and probably often. Two things have shaped my narrow beliefs on said city, the first being a startling expose of a book found at a thrift store called "Nashville Babylon," the second being that I once read a blog of a person living in Nashville who said that they saw Vince Gill grocery shopping in an ascot. I'll keep my country where it belongs (in the 1970s and prior) thankyouverymuch.

Lastly Nawlins is but a six hour drive or a short Amtrak ride. I have a love an hate relationship with Nawlins because I tend to see things in black and white terms and to me it's as if Las Vegas took a shit all over Charleston. I like my Las Vegas in Vegas and my Charleston in Charleston, but I am working on reconciling my issues and hope to someday accept Nawlins for the filthy gem it is.

Only one residence actually had a picture of Calvin pissing on Mayor Willie on the fridge.

2009-04-09T11:59:00.012-05:00

During our February trip we met with a realtor who was no less than ol' Jeff Davis' sixth cousin and completely charming and delightful. Every house and condo we visited were nothing less than amazing, but one Midtown bungalow particularly amazed us thanks to this beautiful sight.

That, my friends, is an original built in bar within the breezeway of a 1920s bungalow. Until that day I had believed that home bars belonged firmly in the 1970s or greater. Amazing. I would kill a man in front of his own mama for that house were we not opting to live downtown.

Other Midtown properties brought us joys such as carriage houses, hitching posts, butler's quarters and other pieces of a civilization now gone with the wind. And this creepy picture taped on the wall of an otherwise empty house...

If you're too lazy to click on it, it reads "Thank you Dad and Mom for 10 years" along with a large heart and a crooked tree. Why on earth would anyone leave this? More importantly, what kind of child makes something like that?! I would be suspicious of any youth who was capable of such a grown up sentiment. And since we're on the subject, 10 years of what?! Incredible.

Ankle deep

2009-04-08T11:46:00.002-05:00

"If whiskey ran ankle deep in Memphis, and each front door had a dipper tied to it, you could not get drunk quicker than you can in Memphis now."- Evangelist Sam Jones during a visit to Memphis in 1893

In Midwest College Town 90% of the fun we've experienced in the past few years has taken place in our basement, backyard, or front stoop. All our like minded consorts departed for greener pastures years ago leaving us to find companionship with the sorts of people who own "fuzzbusters" and bring sudoku to poker nights. Since the bars here cater to those born in the 1990s most bartenders around these parts do not know how to make anything that doesn't have "mojito" in its name. Lines are firmly drawn between townies and the University crowd with our neighborhood fitting primarily in the last category. In the four years of owning our house we have met but a handful of our neighbors, all medical school residents at the University who refer to themselves jokingly as "the working poor." Of course to be fair we haven't done much to attempt to fit in with the 'hood-- the plates of cake with cigars snuffed out in them in the yard, the light up Joseph that comes out for our annual Christmas party, and the drunken obscenities yelled in the direction of the most disliked neighbor during a particularly heated game of Girl Talk-- all do not make us the darlings of the drive.

Needless to say, the thought of living in a place where one can partake in "synchronized drinking" (without being a fraternity member) and walk to neighborhood bars where everybody knows your name and have some $1 Depression era cocktails, then have the most delicious dinner in an art deco movie theatre turned restaurant, then stumble home to a condo in a "pie shaped" building; is infinitely appealing to us. (Now that was a run on sentence!) Sure there are panhandlers-- call me crazy, but I'd much rather hear "Can I axe you a qwestion?" than the sounds of neighbors yelling their children's trendy names.

Only a few things stand between us and our paradise in the Mississippi Delta. Fortunately (or unfortunately in many ways) Z was able to find a job as a stop gap so we were able to quit living off our savings, thus allowing us to move in a sane manner. Going about this sensibly is terribly difficult as we are both creatures who demand instant gratification. After our last trip to Memphis in February, our house and Midwest College Town just aint a home anymore. We have emotionally split from our surroundings, which is a terrible place to be. The few joys this town used to offer us no longer satisfy and most of the time I venture out I feel like Kirstie Alley in Drop Dead Gorgeous after losing her daughter to an exploding swan float and I just want to yell "What are you lookin' at?! A whole town full of nobodies is what I'm lookin' at!" But I don't, because that would be cruel and I hate when people quote movies.

It feels fantastic to know exactly where we're going and where we want to be and for the first time in our lives I feel like we're actually working for something. I'm sure there will be a lot of gin fueled tears and anxiety and stress as we begin our slow descent out of this life we no longer want to be a part of, but at the end of the rough road ahead of us lies a platter of deep fried pickles and a pitcher of sweet tea vodka to be enjoyed in a place that doesn't see snow in April , and where the guitar and piano that "Suspicious Minds" was composed on are just a few blocks away. And if that ain't worth fighting for, I don't know what is.

Where do I begin?

2009-04-07T16:00:00.000-05:00

I suppose the purpose of this blog started back in 2002 with my then boyfriend (now husband) taking a college course on Elvis Presley. Since we were not attending the same school I was ineligible to take the course so I persuaded him to with the promise that I would help write the only assignment for him. We procrastinated terribly on the 24 page final paper and a few days before it was due at the end of the semester we were both living and breathing Elvis. After reading every book imaginable on the King we were armed with loads of knowledge but still no thesis. Around 3am two nights before the paper was due I stumbled across a picture of Elvis with his childhood girlfriend who was quite interestingly named Magdeline and our thesis was born-- Elvis as Christ. After that the paper practically wrote itself as correlations betwixt the King of Rock and Roll and the King of Kings started popping out all over the place, ranging from the obvious (12 Disciples/Memphis Mafia) to the not so obvious (both prophecised their own deaths.) The paper earned him an A+, the grade for the entire class and cemented our love for each other (and ol' E.)

Several years later we found ourselves with complimentary plane tickets and we headed to the home of Elvis Presley. While Graceland was quite the emotional experience for us, the city itself was something we never could have expected. I am not even going to attempt to put my feelings into words at this point, because frankly they could do no justice. To understand Memphis one must feel Memphis. Not just see Memphis, nor read about all the unfavorable things naysayers like to write about it or even the favorable things those who truly understand the city have written. You must feel it.

In December 2008, Z and I were both laid off. When I lost my job we thought it was devastating. When he lost his a week later it was almost laughable as fate was obviously telling us to stop following our current paths. We had spent the first five years of our marriage in the Midwest College Town where we had both attended school, in the state we had both grown up in. As we outgrew this town and state we did our best to curb our unhappiness by traveling extensively, primarily to the Southeastern portion of this here United States. (You know something's awry when as a 27 year old Midwesterner you have stayed at 3 out of Southern Living's Top Ten Resorts, and eaten at half of their top restaurants, all within the past few years.) Losing our jobs was the proverbial kick in the ass we needed to get ourselves out of here. And get ourselves out of here we will. Welcome to our journey to 38103.