Month: July 2021

We grabbed a cup of coffee and a pastry on our last morning on the American Countess. Our luggage was outside, waiting to be put on a bus. We’d tried to buy Graceland tickets through the cruise company but we were too late. So we took the bus to the airport. Gordon took advantage of airport WiFi to buy our own tickets to Graceland. What we saved buying our own tickets paid for our rental car so we made out like bandits. We drove around Memphis for an hour to get the feel of the place. It’s green and lovely. There are paddle boats moored on the river but we’d had enough paddle boats. We drove down Beal Street but it was closed. From the trash being cleaned up it looked like there’d been a big Saturday night. We figured out where Graceland was then drove back to our hotel. Gordon had booked us into a converted train station. We were early for check-in but hoped they’d let us store our luggage. The desk clerk said our room was ready and we could drop off our stuff. So we did. Then we went back to Graceland.

I’d seen seen pictures of the outside of Graceland so the Southern Plantation look of it wasn’t a surprise. Lovely exterior. The interior was a museum of 70s kitsch. I thought it was a little weird but, let’s face it, the 70s were a little weird. One interesting thing: Elvis had carpeted some rooms and hallways with dark green shag carpet–including the walls and ceilings. (I think we had the same carpet in our Hollywood apartment many years ago). Anyway, I thought it was tacky until if occurred to me that there wasn’t much available for home acoustics in the 70s. Elvis did a lot of recording in his house and the shag carpet muffled any echoes. Elvis jury-rigged his own sound proofing. Rather ingenious. We weren’t allowed upstairs per Elvis’ life-time request. He wanted SOMEPLACE private.

We went outside and toured the stables and paddock where a few horses are still kept. The tour ended at Elvis’ grave. He’s buried on-site with his parents and other family members. It’s very touching. Then we went across the street to see the other exhibits.

There are about five buildings devoted to different aspects of Elvis’ life. One building displayed his cars (and he had a lot of them), one building showed his costumes, one building detailed his early years, including his time in the military. We didn’t go through all the buildings. It was interesting but we’d been looking at Elvis stuff for hours. One observation: I’ve been told all these years that Elvis was an idiot. I don’t think that’s true. When you listen to taped interviews Elvis comes off as rather clever. He could handle all the ‘gotcha’ questions from a hostile media when he was only about 22 years old. And you don’t accomplish what he did before his death at age 42 by being an idiot. Think the media gives him a bad rap.

We toured Elvis’ private jet and private 707 and called it quits. I’ll probably never go back to Graceland but I’m glad I saw it once.

We went back to our train station for a nap before going to Central Bar-B-Q for dinner. It’s a local institution and was highly recommended so we walked over. On the way we read an historical marker about the Memphis Massacre. Don’t remember the date but it was a horrifying account of an attack on the local black population. Something like that tends to kill the appetite but we had to stand in line so long we got hungry again.

Gordon ordered the ribs and I ordered a pulled-pork sandwich and we shared. We also split an order of nachos just to see what they were like. We couldn’t finish it all, there was just too much food, but it was delicious. I ordered a local craft beer and that was good too. I enjoyed the ambiance although it was obvious we were the only Yankees. It was strange being the one with the funny accent. We walked around the historic neighborhood which is in the process of being restored. The trolley went past our hotel but we never took a ride. We probably should have.

We wandered around our train station hotel before bed. It still had the bumpers that stopped the trains from running into the place. There were lots of historic markers to read. I got a kick out of the place and Gordon loves trains, so he was in hog heaven.

Next morning we went across the street to the Arcade Restaurant. There was a line around the block the previous evening so we figured the food was good. Gordon got hash browns with his eggs and he ordered them extra crispy. They deep-fried the hash browns for him and he said they were perfect. The Arcade has really good food and the neon on the exterior is spectacular.

We spent the rest of the morning at the Civil Rights Museum. The Lorraine Motel, where Martin Luther King was staying when he was killed, has been saved as has the boarding house across the street where the shot came from. There is a huge wreath on the balcony where King died. The attached museum details the civil rights struggle and the notables of that struggle over the years. It’s a sobering exhibit. This country has been through some times. Fortunately, we’ve always had strong people who were up to the challenge. The final exhibit was the boarding house across the street. They have the rifle and scope that was used to assassinate Dr. King on display. Or maybe it was just the same model of the rifle used, I don’t remember. It was a little macabre but it really brought the ugliness home. We were allowed to stand in the room where the shot came from. And we read about the hunt and trial of the killer. Not exactly a feel-good morning but it’s important US history. We were thoughtful when we left.

We had a few hours before we had to catch our plane so we went downtown and toured the Fireman’s Museum. We tried to get in the historic churches but they were closed due to the pandemic. I wanted to go to the Peabody Hotel and see if the ducklings were walking through but I was too cheap to pay to park–especially for ducklings who probably weren’t even there. We went to a huge Bass Pro shop on the way out of town. Supposedly, it was designed as a sports arena but funding went to pieces and by the time they started completion it was considered too small. So Bass bought it and it’s become a hotel, restaurant, and retail store. It’s full of fishponds and all sorts of other little treats. We were told by a salesman that it’s become a tourist destination. I believe it. The place was packed.

It was time to drop off the car and catch our flight which was uneventful. The cats were glad to see us–well, Gracie was glad. George pouted a bit. Good thing we can bribe him with food. It was good to be home.

Would I take the trip again? Maybe. The boat was perfectly appointed (game room, exercise room, snack room), there was always something to do, and the cabins and bathrooms were huge compared to other cruises I’ve taken. And being able to sit in a rocking chair as the Mississippi floated by was an experience in itself. That’s a spectacular river. The only problem was the food service. They were under-staffed and had to follow some ridiculous CDC rules. The food was good, when we could get it, but I still get slightly irritated when I think of the struggle to get basic things–like butter. The Battle of the Butter was almost a daily annoyance. And I didn’t like having to sit at the same table every night. If you got a clinker, like Horrible Henry, you were screwed. But except for meal time I enjoyed myself. Maybe the food situation will be straightened out. We were one of the first cruises allowed after the pandemic and they were still getting organized. But I enjoyed my time in the South. I’ve never spent any time there before. Quite an education.

Our next stop was Vicksburg. We didn’t even go downtown; they took us directly to the National Cemetery where only Union soldiers are buried. Well, that’s not entirely true; one Confederate got into the mix somehow and got planted in the wrong cemetery. There was a Confederate flag on his grave to show the difference. I don’t know why they don’t dig him up and put him in the Confederate cemetery. He’d probably be happier. And showing a Confederate flag anywhere will get you in trouble these days. But there he lies with his lonely little flag. We never got to see where the Confederate soldiers were buried. That’s not a national park. Anyway, the tour was quite educational. There were markers where the two sides had cannons pointing at each other–sometimes only 50 feet apart. Each Northern state who lost personnel in the battle has a large memorial. And they lost a lot of lives. The guide says they still dig up mini balls in the fields. But Vicksburg was important because it was the turning point of the Civil War. When Grant took Vicksburg the South was blocked from getting supplies and munitions. They were cut off from the world. But it was horrible for the town; people starved to death in the siege. One interesting note; Grant came up from the south on the Mississippi. He had to get supplies and soldiers to the north of town to surround the Confederates. The captains of the ironclads hugged the shore closest to the Confederates. The Confederates were on high ground and when they pointed their cannon down at the ironclads the cannonballs just dropped out. So the boats passed largely unscathed. It’s funny when you think of those cannons pointing down and the balls dribbling out. But it worked. And Grant became a hero. What a time this country has had.

We stopped at the closed Visitor’s Center to pee. Always have to keep the bathrooms open for the tourists. A resurrected ironclad was on display. They think the boiler blew and that’s what sank it. What I found interesting were the rails welded onto the front of the boat. The original iron slabs only protected the center of the boat where the boiler and paddlewheel had been placed (not the back, like our boat). Sherman was tearing up the railways so the soldiers took the iron rails and patched them on the front for more protection. Ya gotta love Yankee ingenuity. But it looked a little odd.

We toured a train museum and an Army Corps of Engineers exhibit about the methods used to corral the worst excesses of the Mississippi. Then we went back to the boat. It was the usual dinner and a show but I didn’t get into any trouble and I got my bun and butter.

The boat didn’t stop the next day because they had to make up the time they lost fixing the gangplank. So a series of lectures were presented to keep us out of the bar. The popular girl singer from our nightly entertainment had a Q & A. She was asked where she got her training and she mentioned where she’d gone to college and that she’d done a season of summer stock in South Dakota. Well, my ears pricked up at that. There are only two summer stock programs that I know about so I raised my hand and asked which company she’d worked with. She said, “Prairie Repertory”. And I said, “So did I!” Well, it was old home week. She did Rep in the 2014 season when the kids had air conditioning and showers and I told her I was in the third season “when we were putting on shows in a barn”. Some of the other audience members had done theatrical summers and we giggled about Boone’s Farm and Ripple, the only booze we could afford. The girl said, “Oh, I didn’t do that. I wasn’t 21.” And I said, “Neither was I.” And us duffers snickered together. I think people my age were more adventurous in our youth. Or dumber. Whatever. Anyway, she said she didn’t pursue any union affiliations because she wouldn’t get any work. True. All equity touring companies are shut down and the actors are starving to death. She made a good choice. And it seems like a nice job. She doesn’t have men pawing her. And that’s worth a lot.

The boat skipped our scheduled stop of Greenville where we would have seen the B.B. King museum but they’d made up enough time to stop at Helena, an old town that’s home to a blues festival. The town is almost dead. They’d had a tornado the year before and were trying to recover from that. And then the pandemic hit…It’s hard times in Helena. And that’s too bad; there’re a lot of lovely old buildings waiting to be repurposed if they could get some industry there and get some population back. We toured the train museum and the town’s history museum. There was a copy of a Mark Twain novel, signed by Twain himself. There were lots of interesting things to look at but the best part was the large tabletop representation of the town and the battle positions of the soldiers during the Civil War. The docent gave a great lecture about how many towns voted to stay in the Union but were dragged along into the Confederacy against their will. Apparently, Helena didn’t put up much of a fight when the Union came through. But they suffered when they had to shelter Union soldiers in their homes. At the end of the lecture I was surprised when the docent claimed, “The one person who single-handedly did more damage to the South than anyone was John Wilkes Boothe.” And this from a Southerner! He said that Lincoln and Grant were trying to re-unite the country and help the South recover when Boothe put Johnson in office. And then all hell broke lose. He said the South didn’t begin to recover from the Johnson years until after the turn of the century. From what I’ve read I have to agree.

We had a mint julep at the bar and one final dinner and show. We had to pack and have our luggage outside our cabin door so we could catch our bus by 7 the next morning. They wanted us off so they could clean up the place and set sail by 3 with another boatload of passengers. We said goodbye to the people we liked and went to bed early.

The American Countess was tied to two saplings at Natchez. I was a little surprised that two little trees could stop that big boat from moving but they did. Gordon and I had breakfast in the main dining room. Our pancakes and omelets took forever, of course, but the food was quite good. I appreciated the fact that the portions were kept small. We ate three times a day so I was never hungry but I didn’t gain weight either. I was also pleased that I actually got refills on my coffee without pitching a fit. Things were looking up.

We checked out bikes after breakfast. Gordon asked if he should adjust my seat but I didn’t want to waste the time. I should have wasted the time. The seat was so high I couldn’t put a foot down when I stopped, I went into a controlled fall. But I muddled along. We walked the bikes through Under Natchez which, in earlier days, was the home of brothels and bars. We climbed a steep hill to Upper Natchez where the rich folks lived. We had to be careful at the top because we had to share the narrow sidewalk with pedestrians. I didn’t hit anybody or impale myself on the picturesque wrought-iron fences but I was glad when we hit the street. Natchez is a charming town but the pandemic took a toll. Lots of For Rent signs. We rode for an hour then went back to the boat. The trip downhill was much faster and a lot more fun.

We went back to the boat and enjoyed the sunset from the top deck. We took a few laps around the third deck to work up an appetite. I was told seven laps made a mile. I’ll take their word for it. There were quite a few of us doing laps. We had lots of time because the gangplank on the ship broke. The American Countess is new construction and they’re still working out all the bugs. We watched two HUGE cranes trying to lift the thing so they could fix the rigging but couldn’t watch the resolution. It was time to eat.

Dinner was a little less aggravating. I’d learned that our server’s name was Francesca so when she sailed by with buns or wine I called out, “Francesca, can I have (whatever she had)?” She apologized for ignoring us but we got our wine and buns (with butter!) in a timely manner. So the only problem left was Horrible Henry. He was pontificating and and I disagreed with him at one point. He pointed at me and said, “Well, I’m going to tell you…” And I snapped back, “You have nothing to say that I’m interested in hearing.” And I continued my conversation with the Falls Church lady. That stopped the idiot dead. We all continued out conversations without him interrupting and monopolizing. Even his wife ignored him. Thus ended the reign of Horrible Henry. He modified his tone with us although he bullied poor Francesca. He insisted in ordering off the menu. He didn’t want duck or shrimp creole, he wanted a cheeseburger “because I have diabetes”. So they brought him a cheeseburger and french fries–which he bitched about. Poor Francesca. She started ignoring him too. Too bad he got his bun and wine with the rest of us. Wish I could have excluded him.

We went to the show with the trio and back-up band. They did a medley of 70s tunes. They had a good handle on their geriatric crowd. But dammit, we had music then. Kids today…

We skipped the bar again. I much preferred spending time on the top deck or our private veranda. The lights on the barge traffic were soothing. And it was quiet…

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