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.
August 13: Seeing Fort Worth
In cutting south from I-40 to Fort Worth, we were retracing my journey of twenty years early, with the same goal: A visit to college friends Kelly and Becky Sharp. Kelly and Becky were both active in Campus Crusade in Brown. Kelly was a year ahead of me, and led the Bible study I was in. Becky was my classmate. They were married right after her graduation. Last time I visited, they were living in a small apartment, establishing Texas residency so Becky could start Medical School. Now, she is an established internist, and they have just built a comfortable house in one of the last forested sections of Fort Worth, which they share with their two daughters.
Since we are big zoo afficiandos, Kelly took us to the Fort Worth Zoo, where we fed the birds in the parakeet enclosure,
and checked how Christopher measured up to the Lone Star State's indigenous birds of prey.
We then had a wonderful lunch at Papadeux Cajun restaurant, with portions of shrimp and catfish so generous that we took a picnic for the following day. When the waitress heard we were driving all way to Memphis, she packed the leftovers in high quality take-out tubs, and threw in an extra loaf of bread, picnic forks and napkins.
That evening, we had dinner with New Life Bible College alumnus Stas Yermolaev (class of 2001), who is now a student at Southwestern Baptist Seminary, and met his wife Julia. We were joined by our former Senior translator, Olga (nee Sidorova) and her husband, Arthur Alard. Both are students at Dallas Theological Seminary. They plan to return to Arthur's native Cape Town, South Africa, and minister as church planters. Their departure from Texas will have to await both their graduations, and the birth of their first child, an event expected early in 2009.
This was also the day we got the air conditioning fixed on the Miata, which made the rest of the drive much easier on Julia.
Since we are big zoo afficiandos, Kelly took us to the Fort Worth Zoo, where we fed the birds in the parakeet enclosure,and checked how Christopher measured up to the Lone Star State's indigenous birds of prey.
We then had a wonderful lunch at Papadeux Cajun restaurant, with portions of shrimp and catfish so generous that we took a picnic for the following day. When the waitress heard we were driving all way to Memphis, she packed the leftovers in high quality take-out tubs, and threw in an extra loaf of bread, picnic forks and napkins.That evening, we had dinner with New Life Bible College alumnus Stas Yermolaev (class of 2001), who is now a student at Southwestern Baptist Seminary, and met his wife Julia. We were joined by our former Senior translator, Olga (nee Sidorova) and her husband, Arthur Alard. Both are students at Dallas Theological Seminary. They plan to return to Arthur's native Cape Town, South Africa, and minister as church planters. Their departure from Texas will have to await both their graduations, and the birth of their first child, an event expected early in 2009.
This was also the day we got the air conditioning fixed on the Miata, which made the rest of the drive much easier on Julia.
Saturday, September 6, 2008
August 12: Amarillo to Fort Worth
[Todd writing] Megan lives within blocks of the historic route of Historic Route 66, and Amarillo is, after all, one of the cities in which Nat King Cole urged us to get our kicks. With a short 350 mile day ahead of us, we felt we could afford a few kicks before we hit the road. We started with a real southern breakfast of biscuits and gravy at "J and M's Cafe." (J's Cafe & Catering - "All Sandwiches & Burgers Come With A Choice Of Fries, Chips, Potato Salad Or Tater Tots! 3700 W Sixth Avenue; Amarillo, Texas." Italics added by author.) Had we known about the Tater Tots!, we might have stuck around for lunch. What sold us on J& M's though was that, following a divorce, it was rechristened simply as "J's", and there is still a big white space on the sign where the "& M" was painted over.
We left J's with our stomaches full, but with our souls still hungry for culture. Amarillo is an artsy sort of town, regularly hosting exhibitions such as this one:
We were looking for something more offbeat, more avant guard, less accessible, yet not off the beaten track, as we had a drive ahead of us. Few tracks are more beaten than I-40, and right by I-40 is arguably the most often viewed modern art installation in the country, Cadillac Ranch. In my memory of a National Geographic feature on "historic" Route 66, this was a row of pristine, vintage Cadillacs, planted face down in a cornfield, perhaps in a Narnian expectation that they would grow. Today, it has become an interactive installation, where visitors themselves participate in the art, by means of spray paint. It is thus a constantly evolving, and degrading, installation. What could be more American?
We left J's with our stomaches full, but with our souls still hungry for culture. Amarillo is an artsy sort of town, regularly hosting exhibitions such as this one:
We were looking for something more offbeat, more avant guard, less accessible, yet not off the beaten track, as we had a drive ahead of us. Few tracks are more beaten than I-40, and right by I-40 is arguably the most often viewed modern art installation in the country, Cadillac Ranch. In my memory of a National Geographic feature on "historic" Route 66, this was a row of pristine, vintage Cadillacs, planted face down in a cornfield, perhaps in a Narnian expectation that they would grow. Today, it has become an interactive installation, where visitors themselves participate in the art, by means of spray paint. It is thus a constantly evolving, and degrading, installation. What could be more American?
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