Friday, September 12, 2008
August 17: Macon to Orlando - The Finish Line
This day was uneventful, and it was meant to be. We had just 389 miles to go to complete our Odyssey, and we were ready to get going once we had enjoyed our "complimentary hot breakfast" of bagels and yogurt. I-75 pulled us southward, and Spanish Moss began to appear on the trees. Bit by bit, it started looking like Florida, as billboards announced discounts on Disney tickets and approach of "adult friendly" truck stops. Before long, we had turned from I-75 onto "Florida's Turnpike," and soon, after stopping only thirty-eight times to pay tolls, we were exiting onto Alafaya Trail in East Orlando, and being greeted warmly by Campus Crusade colleague Randy Hepner (whom I knew from Lithuania) at the Cypress Lake Apartments. We had been on the road for over two months, traveled some 15,000 miles, slept in 26 different beds, passed through twenty-four states and six countries, but, for now, we were home.
August 16: Memphis to Macon
For the second year running, I spent my birthday in transit. We said goodbye to the Johnstons and headed south across county roads so minor that the entry into the state of Mississippi was not signed. We soon hit a good highway, a future Interstate no less, and struck out ESE toward Birmingham and Atlanta. We were pleasantly surprised at how hilly, wooded and scenic the route was. We knew we were in The South, though, by the kudzu vine that so thoroughly covered almost everything in sight.
August 16, of course, is not only my birthday but also the day Elvis died, so we continued the pilgrimage by visiting his birthplace in Tupelo, which is conveniently just three miles south of the highway. The shack where he was born has been well preserved, and the church where he sang as a child has been relocated to the site as well. It was a nice little place for a sandwich break.
After lunch, we continued on through consistently attractive countryside. I was very disappointed not to find CD's for sale at the mini-markets, as I desperately wanted my first visit to Alabama to be accompanied by the tunes of Lynard Skynard. Skunked at the filling station, I had to resort to the radio, but just as the Memphis stations were disappointingly Elvis-free the day earlier, so as we approached Birmingham, it seemed that there was no one to love the Governor but us. Birmingham turned out to be a remarkably hilly city, very attractive, and I regretted not having been able to track down any friends to stay with there. Only later did I remember that I have a friend in Montgomery, which, it turns out, is also the capital, so why they love the Governor in Birmingham is beyond me, but with nowhere to stay, we pushed on east, exiting Alabama accompanied by Talking Heads' "Burning Down the House" without having made so much as a gas stop. (According to Kid Rock, they also love the Governor in New Orleans, which is even more mystifying. I don't really know which Governor they mean. I have always taken it to be a sort of magnanimous blanket endorsement of hard-working public servants, but perhaps I am missing a sub-text.)
Soon, we had turned south on I-75 for Florida. I knew we were in Georgia when we saw Chic-Fil-A, Home of the Original Chicken Sandwich,of which my Georgia-born colleague Sharon Denny had always spoken fondly, so we stopped there for dinner, drove another hour, and stopped at a Holiday Inn near Macon. Tired though we are of fast food, Chik-Fil-A turned out to be a winner.
August 16, of course, is not only my birthday but also the day Elvis died, so we continued the pilgrimage by visiting his birthplace in Tupelo, which is conveniently just three miles south of the highway. The shack where he was born has been well preserved, and the church where he sang as a child has been relocated to the site as well. It was a nice little place for a sandwich break.
After lunch, we continued on through consistently attractive countryside. I was very disappointed not to find CD's for sale at the mini-markets, as I desperately wanted my first visit to Alabama to be accompanied by the tunes of Lynard Skynard. Skunked at the filling station, I had to resort to the radio, but just as the Memphis stations were disappointingly Elvis-free the day earlier, so as we approached Birmingham, it seemed that there was no one to love the Governor but us. Birmingham turned out to be a remarkably hilly city, very attractive, and I regretted not having been able to track down any friends to stay with there. Only later did I remember that I have a friend in Montgomery, which, it turns out, is also the capital, so why they love the Governor in Birmingham is beyond me, but with nowhere to stay, we pushed on east, exiting Alabama accompanied by Talking Heads' "Burning Down the House" without having made so much as a gas stop. (According to Kid Rock, they also love the Governor in New Orleans, which is even more mystifying. I don't really know which Governor they mean. I have always taken it to be a sort of magnanimous blanket endorsement of hard-working public servants, but perhaps I am missing a sub-text.)
Soon, we had turned south on I-75 for Florida. I knew we were in Georgia when we saw Chic-Fil-A, Home of the Original Chicken Sandwich,of which my Georgia-born colleague Sharon Denny had always spoken fondly, so we stopped there for dinner, drove another hour, and stopped at a Holiday Inn near Macon. Tired though we are of fast food, Chik-Fil-A turned out to be a winner.
August 15: A Day in Memphis
There's a lot to see in Memphis, but you can fit in a lot in a day. Our first stop, of course, was Graceland, which Julia had seen on her 1996 cross-country-and-back journey. We arrived at 9:30, and crowds were already setting out folding chairs for The Vigil, for August 15 is the Eve of the Death of the King, and the candlelight vigil is the annual memorial, and a major holy-day on the liturgical calendar of Elvis fans.
Next, we met Mike Lipscomb, a colleague from Moscow, for a lunch at Charlie Vergos' Rendezvous Restaurant, where the specialty is the dry smoked pork ribs. A Memphis institution, foreign heads of state have been feted there, notably Japanese Prime Minister Koizumi, who visited during his pilgrimage to Graceland. They work with another Memphis company, FedEx, to deliver ribs around the world.
Properly sated, we rode the streetcar, free during lunch hour, a mile down South Main Street to The Lorraine Motel, the site of the assassination of Martin Luther King, Jr., and now the site of the National Civil Rights Museum. The museum is excellent, and now includes an exhibit in the building from which James Earl Ray took his fateful shot.
We then rode the trolley to Mud Island River Park, a less well known Memphis attraction, but one that is unique and should not be missed. Guests cross a bridge to the Island, or, if they wish, ride a tram. The bridge and tram were featured in the "chase scene" in the movie The Firm. The first stop on the Island is the Museum of the Mississippi River, which includes reconstructions of paddle wheel riverboats and ironclad warships and a thorough discussion of the Big River's contribution to American culture, from Mark Twain to the blues. The museum is excellent, but Mud Island's unique attraction is the 1/2 mile long scale model of the Mississippi River. Christopher had been asking "what's so cool about a model of a river?" but as soon as he glimpsed it, he got it. The rain was just starting as he sloshed upstream to St Louis, took a look at the models of various tributaries (the Missouri, the Ohio, and the upper reaches of the Mississippi itself) and it was pouring as he turned and headed south again. He spent nearly an hour splashing his way along the route taken by Huck and Jim, and was thoroughly soaked by the time he reached New Orleans. Since swimming was not allowed in the Gulf of Mexico, he amused himself by jumping in the fountain that was set in the middle of Lake Pontchartrain, while the adults sought shelter from what was now a major thunderstorm.
Finally, we headed for the car. Dinner along Beale Street would have been the perfect ending to the ideal Memphis day, but with a soaked-to-the-skin nine-year-old in tow, we just headed back to Germantown to rest up for our penultimate road day.
Next, we met Mike Lipscomb, a colleague from Moscow, for a lunch at Charlie Vergos' Rendezvous Restaurant, where the specialty is the dry smoked pork ribs. A Memphis institution, foreign heads of state have been feted there, notably Japanese Prime Minister Koizumi, who visited during his pilgrimage to Graceland. They work with another Memphis company, FedEx, to deliver ribs around the world.
Properly sated, we rode the streetcar, free during lunch hour, a mile down South Main Street to The Lorraine Motel, the site of the assassination of Martin Luther King, Jr., and now the site of the National Civil Rights Museum. The museum is excellent, and now includes an exhibit in the building from which James Earl Ray took his fateful shot.
We then rode the trolley to Mud Island River Park, a less well known Memphis attraction, but one that is unique and should not be missed. Guests cross a bridge to the Island, or, if they wish, ride a tram. The bridge and tram were featured in the "chase scene" in the movie The Firm. The first stop on the Island is the Museum of the Mississippi River, which includes reconstructions of paddle wheel riverboats and ironclad warships and a thorough discussion of the Big River's contribution to American culture, from Mark Twain to the blues. The museum is excellent, but Mud Island's unique attraction is the 1/2 mile long scale model of the Mississippi River. Christopher had been asking "what's so cool about a model of a river?" but as soon as he glimpsed it, he got it. The rain was just starting as he sloshed upstream to St Louis, took a look at the models of various tributaries (the Missouri, the Ohio, and the upper reaches of the Mississippi itself) and it was pouring as he turned and headed south again. He spent nearly an hour splashing his way along the route taken by Huck and Jim, and was thoroughly soaked by the time he reached New Orleans. Since swimming was not allowed in the Gulf of Mexico, he amused himself by jumping in the fountain that was set in the middle of Lake Pontchartrain, while the adults sought shelter from what was now a major thunderstorm.
Finally, we headed for the car. Dinner along Beale Street would have been the perfect ending to the ideal Memphis day, but with a soaked-to-the-skin nine-year-old in tow, we just headed back to Germantown to rest up for our penultimate road day.
August 14: Fort Worth to Memphis
By now, a 510 mile day seemed pretty light. We circled around Dallas and headed east, leaving the grasslands behind and saying hello to the piney woods of east Texas. By the time we entered Arkansas, it was all forests. We chose a pleasant rest stop for our Cajun picnic, and then sped toward the Mississippi. We gave up the chance to get another stamp in our National Parks Passport when we bypassed Hot Springs National Park, where I had camped on my 1988 trip. Missed also the charming resort town of Hot Springs, where Bill Clinton spent his childhood. Lingering there in 1988 had caused me to miss Graceland. We crossed the big river before sunset, and soon were in the charming home of Joan and Jerry Johnston in the Memphis suburb of Germantown.
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