Memphis Blues

Elizabeth steps 'into' the mighty Mississippi R. at Mud Island

My best friend lives in Memphis, and I wouldn’t mind an Elvis sighting, but other than that, Memphis makes me nervous. I don’t go there very often in the interest of not stirring up the New Madrid Fault. That is the kind of event that can happen with people who cannot pick the right line at the bank or grocery check-out. It’s better not to stand in that line in the first place.

We tried to approach Memphis from the east once, to attend a luncheon honoring my friend, but an ice storm forced us to turn back to Nashville.

We also tried to go return through that city from a trip out west, at night, in a storm so intense we didn’t even know we had reached and were driving on the bridge over the Mississippi. The rain began to let up enough as we approached the Tennessee side to see the vague outline of the Pyramid.  I broke out of my paralysis from fear long enough to lift my camera off my lap to take a picture. It was the first sign that we might actually live long enough to make it through Memphis.

The Pyramid as the storm lets up.

I respect Memphis’ rich history and geography, from early days of the Chickasaw and Spanish explorers, to its position high above the mighty Mississippi. Its fame is deserved for many things from cotton and the Civil War to music and barbecue. The Lorraine Hotel forever marks a martyr’s death, but also the present day Civil Rights Museum. The city holds a lot of interest to a photographer. Still, a trip to Memphis always calls out the caution signs.

The Lorraine Hotel

Balcony at the Lorraine Hotel where MLK was standing

We went to Memphis over the weekend.  We were not incident free, as an irate neighbor of my friend’s came to her porch to scream at her about a rosebush he said her yard person had cut down in his yard and killed. We checked it out. It was a spindly thing that could stand a good pruning, and it was not even close to being dead. What had been cut were the canes that came over the fence between them and were causing my friend’s carport roof to rot. I think the heat had addled him, and he had the Memphis Blues.

Tempers were all a little raw from the heat and humidity which was excessive in June even for Memphis. No one had much patience for me stopping to take pictures, but we did drive around town, where the empty streets made me a little sad, and then to Mud Island where I marveled at the displays showing the influence and power of the Mississippi on the lives of Memphians. This time I could clearly see the I-40 Bridge and the Pyramid. We discussed the chance of making it to shore if caught in the dangerous currents of the Mississippi, and decided you could easily end up in Vicksburg if you weren’t pulled under first.

Miniature replica of part of the Mississippi R. at Mud Island.

Hernando de Soto Bridge, I-40 between Memphis and Arkansas

Memphis Pyramid

We made it home alive once more. I’m grateful for that, and for nice neighbors. My next door neighbor and I even share a patch of bamboo (neither of us is guilty of having planted it), and if that plant’s habits don’t drive you nuts at the property line, you’re probably going to have a harmonious relationship. But I wouldn’t count on it if you live in Memphis.