Memphs

Father’s Day in Memphis

I made a trip to Costco, where I hI made a trip to Costco, where I had just become a member for the sole purpose of buying Cocojune, the non-dairy organic cultured coconut yogurt, in keeping with my promise to the doctor to eat better foods. As it turns out, they do not even stock the yogurt I was seeking.ad just become a member for the sole purpose of buying Cocojune, the non-dairy organic cultured coconut yogurt, in keeping with my promise to the doctor to eat better foods. As it turns out, they do not even stock the yogurt I was seeking.

But since I had a glossy new card, I figured I should take advantage of the Costco experience.

I found the snack aisles, both the human kind and the dog kind, and made my selections. Before we reached the checkout stand, TWWNCBUIP found me with my collection of goodies and replaced most of it with “more suitable choices”. Her words, not mine.

TWWNCBUIP informed me that while we were at Costco we needed to purchase a new traveling ice chest for the refrigerated dog snacks, cans of water, turkey slices, and protein bars that were to become my lunch and our “road food.” It was way more fun back when we would pull in for our gas stop and load up on snacks for the road, chips and Snickers bars, Cornuts, and whatever else caught my eye. But no, now we must “choose wisely.” Where’s the fun in that? For the record, I would have been just as happy with a burger doodle at our usual food and gas stop in Hope, Arkansas.

That gas stop in Hope sits along our preferred path to Memphis. In case you ever want to make the drive to see Graceland yourself, there is more than one way to get there. My route of choice is the Eastex Freeway, a shortened name for the road that runs between Houston and East Texas, part freeway and part small glimpses into the little towns scattered through East Texas and up into Arkansas.

It feels less like driving and more like flipping through a photo album at sixty miles an hour. This is my kind of road.

All was good with Waze plotting the turns along the way, right up until the sky opened. The rain came down so hard that the road, the shoulder, and the line between them all disappeared at once. Pulling off the road felt riskier than staying on it, since neither of us could see where “off” actually was. My pilot’s solution was to slide us catty-corner behind an 18-wheeler that had his hazard lights on, crawling slow enough not to drown us in his wake. We tucked in like a duckling behind his momma and held that spot for the next ten miles, until the rain finally let up. My contribution as navigator was to sit very still and not say anything unhelpful, a role I would abandon a few hours later in Memphis.

The trip was nine hours of mile markers, most of them advertising things not currently on my menu. We stopped once for the dogs and ourselves, at a spot we had carefully researched, a picturesque picnic area on a tree-lined riverbank with a 4.8 Google rating to back it up.

I pictured something out of a promotional brochure for Let’s Visit Arkansas. What we found was tired, unkempt, and uninviting, the kind of place that photographs well only in someone else’s memory. Maybe it had been a while since anyone updated that 4.8.

As we pulled into the park, the rain started again, making for soggy turkey sandwiches on a rusted-out picnic bench. The puppies did get one of their approved snacks, so they were content. Me, I’m still missing my burger doodle stop in Hope.

Crossing the Mississippi bridge into Memphis, Waze announced we should turn left onto Jackson Avenue. Since I was the designated navigator, I had to speak up and said “that isn’t right, we always take AW Willis east toward Overton Park.”

So, my pilot followed my navigation advice and turned onto AW Willis. Three blocks later we found the street blocked for as far as I could see with big orange barrels and signs marked “Road Closed.” My pilot didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to. You would think I would have learned by now. This was the second time on a Memphis trip that I overruled Waze, and the second time Waze was quietly steering us around trouble. Ignoring it is a gamble that keeps not paying off.

Waze got us back on track and we arrived at the colorful building on Summer Avenue where Mr. and Mrs. CB live. We unpacked, got the puppies settled in, and then we were off to Collierville, a picturesque little village, a town square wrapped around a small park, an Irish music session going under the trees, twinkling lights doing their part for the atmosphere.

The only thing missing was an ice cream shop next door. Can you believe we chose an Irish restaurant for our first meal in Memphis? We ordered fish and chips and scotch eggs and all manner of things Irish. Guess you could call it a busman’s holiday meal.

Back at the house we settled in for a cozy evening. CB and I took on a LEGO project meant to become a 1960s transistor radio while Alice and TW spread out a jigsaw puzzle. Alice has a good eye for puzzles and a better memory for where a piece is meant to go than I do. A good way to end the day.

On Father’s Day we started with a walk along the Mississippi at Tom Lee Park. The park went through a big renovation a

few years back and it shows, winding paths, new trees all over, hammocks strung up in a grove by the water, and playgrounds built to look like river critters. It is named for Tom Lee, a river worker who pulled 32 passengers from a sinking steamboat in 1925, more remarkable still because he could not swim a stroke himself.

Alice was teaching class that afternoon and since we were delaying our trip to Gus’s Fried Chicken to later in the week, I signed myself up and joined the dozen other crafters for the wine-bottle glass making class.

There is a bronze statue near the water that catches him mid-rescue, reaching down to haul a man up out of the river. We stood with it a moment, then carried on down the path.

The dogs ran freely, or as far as their leashes would allow, and we took in the view of Mud Island.

I have to tell you that I made the most beautiful (and only) wine glass that I have ever made. Alice is a really good teacher and she knows great art when she sees it. I think she wanted to give me a gold star for my beautiful glass work but she didn’t want to hurt everyone else’s feelings.

Alice keeps up with the local art happenings in town, so she and CB invited us to a protest poster show after the park, hosted by local artists and titled “Art is Revolting.” It sounded interesting, and on Father’s Day no less, it turned out to be a sharp, very well-attended collection. I would tell you that the art was not political, but I like to keep these travelogues truthful. It was an interesting group, some great posters, and I am glad I went.

For those whose ears I have bent about CB’s current focus (aside from tending his garden), he has been working on the first phase of an installment called BVO, now open to the public on Mud Island. BVO stands for Baron Von Opperbean and the River of Time, a free-roaming immersive experience that’s part art, part storytelling, and part open-world adventure.

If you have been to the Meow Wolf art experience in Houston, you will have an idea of it. CB is helping turn that vision into something you can walk through, and if you are under 10 years of age there are mazes to crawl through and slides to slide down.

And here’s the part you’ll recognize. BVO sits in the old Mississippi River Museum on Mud Island, the same spot where Tom Cruise sprinted across the monorail and footbridge in The Firm.

That red

cable car can still be seen tucked away just under the bridge.

Our boy has lived in Memphis for several years and had been meaning to visit T.O. Fuller State Park for some time, and since we were up for a walk, that seemed like a good place to do it. Seemed like.

I will from now on refer to the place as the Tick Thicket. The former golf course had trails paved with a shredded tires covering, three miles of trail through plants covered in stickers (my prior experience with stickers was the kind you use to dress up a Facebook post, not the kind that attach to your clothes and your pets), ticks looking for a ride out of the park, and an abundance of poison ivy.

We dodged the poison ivy, but the ticks were the better travelers. They caught a ride out of the park on our entourage. We should have taken it seriously when the ranger mentioned the tick population was up 30 percent from last year. He delivered that statistic the way you’d mention a chance of rain. We nodded politely and walked in anyway. Apparently poison ivy was never the threat. The threat had legs.

First stop once outside of the Tick Thicket was Hollywood Feed. They offered us three different tick shampoos, and we made our selections like it was a wine list. We went with peppermint, Mr. and Mrs. CB chose lemongrass. We washed all the dogs right there in the big stainless tubs, then drove home to do the same to ourselves. Mostly successful, though I still get an occasional itch from the memory.

Who’s up at five thirty in the morning. Me. Not by choice and not for the traffic. We were up early because Michael was leaving for Mud Island at first light, and the only way to get a few more minutes with our boy was to leave when he did and follow him as far as the bridge.