Just Around the Corner (Blog #386)

After a week and a half of eating and drinking my way across the south, this morning I took a deep breath, stepped on my bathroom scales, and saw the results of all my good choices. Y’all, I gained ten pounds in ten days–ten frickin’ pounds. My mom said, “Well, you look great,” but I’m having a mild aneurism over the matter. Not that I’m truly surprised. Still, I would like to reverse the damage, so I’ve been drinking water like a farm animal all day in order to flush out my system and am planning to go swing dancing tonight to increase my core temperature and burn some calories. With any luck, I’ll sweat out a whole pizza, two beers, and a piece of fried chicken before the night’s over.

But really, no regrets. I enjoyed every–delicious–calorie. Plus, who in his right mind would turn down pizza followed by cheesecake? (Obviously, not me.)

Now that I’m back home, I’m doing my best to play catch-up. By catch-up, of course, I mean laundry. (It’s super fun.) Also, I’ve been going through all my snail-mail, emails, and text messages. Last night while at dinner with a friend, I got a message from the library that said I had two books overdue, that I owed them a grand total of, like, a dollar. I re-checked-out the books online in order to not owe more, but for a minute there I felt like a total law-breaker, a reading rebel if you will. The best part–it felt great, like, I’ve got your overdue books, and what are you gonna do about it?

God, I need to get laid.

This afternoon I’m going to the pharmacy to get two vaccines that my immunologist wants me to have (to see how my body produces antibodies), and I’m nervous about intentionally injecting viruses into my already “quirky” immune system. But I guess this will provide the doctor with another bit of information, another piece of the puzzle. Plus, other than my skin being full of histamine, I have been feeling pretty good lately, so here’s hoping everything will go well. Last night I had dinner with a friend who went through years of health problems before they finally figured out what was wrong, so I’m taking their advice–Keep going, keep pushing for an answer. There has to be one–don’t stop ’til you find it.

The last night in Hot Springs, a few of us went out for a final drink. Walking home from the tavern, we came across a courtyard decorated with lights. It was this surprise, this unexpected beautiful thing, and everyone stopped to take it in. This is how I see my recent travels–something I wasn’t looking for but that was absolutely stunning (and delicious). Yesterday I spoke with my therapist to confirm my next appointment and told her what a great time I had during my travels and what wonderful people I met. She said, “This is what patience gets you.” So I’m doing my best to trust that in all things work, health, and life-related, answers are coming together, that there are more beautiful surprises just around the corner.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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You absolutely have to be vulnerable and state what you want.

"

It’s Okay (Blog #385)

Currently it’s 1:15 in the morning, and I’m flat worn out. I’ve been traveling or catching up with friends and family all day, I have a headache, and I’m having a hard time putting two sentences together. The good news, however, is that I’m just tired–I didn’t wake up today with a sinus infection like I thought I was going to. Maybe the waters of Hot Springs that I guzzled and soaked in yesterday afternoon cured me, or maybe I just drank less beer (actually, none) for dinner last night and got some decent rest. Either way, I consider it a miracle that I’m not–as we speak–sick, sick, sick.

That being said, I am pooped, pooped, pooped.

Honestly, I need to go to bed. Well, I am in bed, but I need to fall asleep. Part of me wants to “tough it out” and tell you about my last night in Hot Springs, my travels today, all the glorious laundry I’ve done this afternoon, and the fact that I’ve eaten just as much if not more since returning to Van Buren than I did while I was out-of-town, but the bigger part of me knows I can’t currently do those stories justice. Therefore, I’m choosing to support my body and soul by resting and coming back to the page tomorrow when I’m more refreshed.

Sometimes, Marcus, it’s okay to give yourself a break.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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All things become ripe when they’re ready.

"

Hopefully (Blog #384)

This morning I woke up not feeling so hot, like either I’m getting another sinus infection or my body has had enough of all the rich food, fried food, pizza, and beer I’ve been shoveling into it. Or both. It’s probably both. Regardless, I’m thankful that my health has held out this long. The schedule the last nine days has been fairly rigorous, and I think my touch-and-go immune system has done pretty well, all things considered. Anyway, I’m actually looking forward to returning home tomorrow, getting some rest, and detoxing.

This morning our group went to Garvan Gardens on Lake Hamilton, an over-two-hundred-acre and once-privately owned garden that was gifted to the University of Arkansas and is now open to the public. Y’all, it was absolutely stunning. There were dozens of trails to walk (although we got chauffeured around on golf carts for time’s sake), beautiful bridges, waterfalls, a koi pond, you name it. There were even whimsical things like a miniature village for fairies (tree spirits, not homosexuals), an electric train set, and a real, live peacock.

Oh, and there was a chapel (Anthony Chapel). Talk about gorgeous. I was blown away.

For lunch we ate at The Avenue, the fine-dining restaurant here in The Waters hotel. Y’all, it was the fanciest, healthiest, thing I’ve had all week. First, they served lunch in courses. Who does that? Second, there was carrot puree soup for an appetizer, salmon on polenta (sort of like cornmeal mashed potatoes) for the main course, and some sort of sherbet for on granola for dessert. I realize that may not sound as good as fried chicken and biscuits, but it was truly delicious from start to finish.

Here’s a picture of the dessert. Isn’t that flower adorable?

And no, I didn’t eat it.

After lunch and a group tour of the hotel (really cool), I went with a few ladies to the Quapaw, one of the bathhouses still in operation. Thinking that our group would be getting a spa treatment, I quickly found out that we would simply be sitting in the hot baths, which are basically like large hot tubs except that they are filled with naturally occurring hot, mineral water from the local springs. And whereas the ladies left within half an hour, I ended up staying for two-and-a-half hours, rotating around to the different pools that were heated (or technically cooled down) to different temperatures (95, 98, 102, and 104 degrees). It was the perfect thing–simple and relaxing.

Between not feeling well and sitting in warm to hot water for the last two hours, I’m so ready for a nap it’s not even funny. However, that’s not going to happen–dinner (our last official activity) is in thirty minutes. And since I still need to rinse off from the baths, I’m going to cut this short. This last week and a half has been fabulous, but–simply put–my body and brain are tired and need a break. Hopefully I can get some sleep tonight, travel well tomorrow, and recuperate at home.

As always, I’ll let you know how it goes.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We follow the mystery, never knowing what’s next.

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Nothing Short of Mystical (Blog #383)

The last twenty-four hours have been fabulous. Yesterday evening all the other journalists arrived, and Lookout Point, a bed-and-breakfast located on Hamilton Lake here in Hot Springs, hosted a reception for us. Y’all, there was cheese, wine, locally made craft beer, and even cupcakes from a company called Fat Bottomed Girls–which I will soon be if I don’t stop eating all this food. And get this–on top of the food, they took us on a boat ride around the lake. Talk about the royal treatment. Today some folks from Texas who joined one of our tours asked, “How does one become a travel writer?” I honestly had no idea how to answer. The first thing that came to mind was, God has to like you a lot.

But really, thank you, Lord.

After the reception, we went to dinner at Rolando’s, a Latin restaurant that’s also located in Fort Smith. If you’ve ever eaten there, you know the food is always delicious, and last night was no exception. And not only was the food great, but so was the conversation. (At one point we talked about goat yoga. It’s apparently a thing.) This is what I love about writers–everyone was fun, kind, and curious–good question askers, good listeners.

Before going back to the hotel, I stopped into the Ohio Club for one last beer, and I’m glad I did. There was a guy playing live music, acoustic stuff, and he had a beautiful voice–natural, raw, just gritty enough. Close to him was a couple who had just gotten married. I struck up a conversation with the bride, and they’d come down from Connecticut, just the two of them, to elope. They’d never been here before but got married in a chapel, and the Ohio Club and the singer ended up being their reception. They both seemed so happy. Just before I left, the singer sang “Into the Mystic” by Van Morrison, which happens to be one of my favorite songs. I don’t know, I just felt fortunate to have wandered in at just the right time to experience it all. It was a perfect, mystical moment.

This morning–believe it or not–I was awake and mostly functional at five-thirty. I’m not kidding. I had to meet the group at six-thirty, so I wanted to meditate, shower, and drink a cup of coffee first. So I did it–I got up before the sunrise. (Now give me a t-shirt to mark the occasion, and let’s hope it never happens again.) Anyway, our first stop today was The Pancake Shop, a local favorite. Y’all, it felt like home–their pancakes tasted just like Grandpa’s used to. I even slathered butter and peanut butter on them and topped the whole mess off with two eggs over-medium just like Grandpa taught me. One of my new friends, an oatmeal-with-blueberries eater from Florida, was mortified. He said, “Think of all the calories.” Pouring on more syrup, I said, “This is the south. We don’t know what calories are.”

I ate–every–single–delicious–bite.

After breakfast we went to the top of a lookout tower and started a several-hour tour of the city with a park ranger, Tom. Here’s a picture of several of us with Tom on the elevator ride up the tower.

At the top of the tower, I learned all sorts of things. Hot Springs, it appears, is partly (but not completely) a National Forest. Here’s a picture from the tower, and the National Forest part (I think) is basically the lower half of the photo. If you’re familiar with Hot Springs, the Arlington Hotel is located in the middle of the photo, just to the right. It’s not the tallest building, but the L-shaped one. The shadow of the tower (which looks like a penis) is pointing at the Arlington. To the left of the center of the photo is another tall L-shaped building (which I’ll talk about later), and that’s the Arkansas Career Training Institute.

Although we drove to the top of the lookout mountain, we hiked down. This is something several of us, including myself, were not prepared to do, meaning we were wearing dress shoes and not sneakers. Plus, for whatever reason, my legs were shaking. Like, even when I was standing still, they were vibrating from my heels to my hips. This happens sometimes on a smaller scale when my legs are tired, but I’m not sure what was up today. When it comes to my health and physical body, I’m learning to ask fewer questions and simply go with it.

For the next few hours, we learned about the hot springs, how (over a long period of time) rainfall works its way through the earth, is heated up, and forced back to the surface (by the pressure of other water in the system) where it comes out at a temperature of about 140 degrees. Then we toured the local bathhouses, or what used to be the bathhouses, as many of them have closed and become other things. One of the bathhouses, the Fordyce, is a museum now, but was apparently the most opulent business of its kind during the hey-day of hot-spring bathing. (People used to travel here from all over the country literally by doctor’s orders to heal such things as polio, syphilis, and other ailments that you can’t actually cure with hot water. At that time, a round of “treatments” that lasted three weeks cost eighteen dollars.)

Here’s a picture of one of my favorite parts of the Fordyce, the only area with a floor not covered in tile–the gymnasium. Check out all the old workout equipment. When it was originally purchased, all of it–total–cost $1,500.

After the tour of the bathhouses, we ate lunch at Superior Bathhouse Brewery, an old bathhouse (the Superior) that’s been turned into a craft-beer-making joint. They’ve been open for five years, and it’s the only brewery in the world that uses thermal (hot springs) water to brew beer. How cool is that? Right here in Arkansas. Plus, they serve a pretty mean lunch, probably the healthiest thing I’ve eaten on this tour of the south so far. (My oatmeal-eating friend would be proud.)

Here’s a picture of me and two other journalists with Rose, the owner of Superior Bathhouse Brewery.

When lunch was over, I was given several hours of free time to roam or relax. Wanting to find out more about the second L-shaped building I mentioned earlier, I struck up a conversation with some locals, who told me that although the building was a vocational school, the lobby was open to the public. So off I went, up the hill toward the building, then into the lobby. Y’all, what happened next was perhaps the best part of my trip to Hot Springs so far (well, other than the peanut butter pancakes and craft beer). A man in a wheelchair, Lance, gave me a tour of the building, explaining that it is now a vocational school specifically for people with disabilities, but that it was originally the first Army-Navy Hospital in the nation. At 198,000 square feet, it’s 9 stories tall and used to have 500 rooms for patients.

Here’s a picture from the outside. The highest point used to be a water tower, but it’s no longer in service.

In addition to showing me the lobby (and the recreation area on the sixth floor), Lance showed me a small museum on the second floor–a single room filled with old medical and dental equipment from the 1930s. Y’all, there were surgery tools, dental implants, and rectal thermometers. There was even a human skeleton. I was absolutely riveted.

And creeped out.

Now I’m back in my room at The Waters and have about an hour before dinner. I’m ready for a nap, but I don’t think I’m going to get one. Instead, I’m just using the time to work on the blog so I can sleep tonight. I don’t have anything too profound to conclude with, but I’m so fascinated by the way that life brings people together, how our stories and songs connect and intertwine, if only for these brief moments, if only over lunch or a craft beer. To me, these unexpected meetings with strangers who smile at us and give us the grand tour are nothing short of miraculous, nothing short of mystical.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"We were made to love without conditions. That's the packaging we were sent with."

The Most Natural Thing in the World (Blog #382)

Currently it’s 2:45 in the afternoon, and I’m in my room at The Waters Hotel in beautiful Hot Springs, Arkansas. I woke up at ten this morning–before noon!–and I’m proud to say I did so without the use of an alarm. After spending about an hour getting ready (eating a piece of fruit, drinking two cups of coffee, meditating, and putting on some clothes), I hit the streets of Hot Springs, where I walked for the last several hours. It’s a glorious day–the sun is shining, the air is cool, and spring has definitely sprung.

Strolling along Central Avenue, the main street here in Hot Springs, I stopped in a number of local shops. Y’all, this city–this world–has so much to take in, food and candy of every sort, multi-colored rocks and geodes, antique books and chandeliers. Why, there’s a museum here FULL of Star Wars and superhero memorabilia, all part of one man’s private collection. And talk about generous people. I found out that three of the four gifts that were left in my room yesterday were provided by a single family that owns several businesses here–evilO Olive Oils & Vinegars, Bathhouse Soapery and Caldarium, and Pour Some Sugar on Me Sweet Shoppe.

When I left the hotel this morning, my intention was to not eat until dinner this evening. I thought, I need to stick with snacks until tonight’s big meal. I need to walk and burn some calories. And whereas the walking felt great and definitely burned some calories, it also made me extremely hungry, so I ended up going into Colonial Pancake and Waffle House and carb-loading on some buttermilk biscuits. I say “carb-loading” as if I’ll be participating in a marathon later today, but I won’t be participating in a marathon later today–unless, of course, that marathon is on Netflix.

I’m writing now, earlier in the day, because our travel-writers group will be meeting in two short hours for a welcome reception followed by dinner. And since tomorrow’s activities start at 6:30 in the morning (I’m not kidding), I need to make a concerted effort to get some sleep tonight.

That effort, I’m assuming, will require anti-histamines.

For the last few days, I’ve been meditating to a song called “Don’t Let Me Down” by Joy Williams. The song starts off by saying, Crashing, hit a wall, right now I need a miracle. Hurry up now, I need a miracle. This lyric brings tears to my eyes, as it often feels as if I’m crying out to God or the universe, asking for help in my current situation, for direction in my life and healing in my body. The singer’s voice might as well be mine–I need ya, I need ya, I need you right now. Yeah, I need you right now. So don’t let me, don’t let me, don’t let me down. I think I’m losing my mind now.

Life is what it is, a symphony of major and minor chords.

Each time I hear these words, I imagine it differently. Two weeks ago when I first heard the song, I pictured myself as I just described, crying out to a deity bigger than myself. There’s a line that says, I really thought you were on my side. Growing up in church, I’ve often felt this way, disappointed by the heavens, thinking that life owed me easier, less challenging, or simply better experiences–experiences less sorrowful. And yet my life has been what it’s been because life is what it is–a symphony of both major and oh-so-many minor chords. I guess in preparation for those minor moments, those storms that inevitably enter every life, I’ve built up defenses in order to protect myself from (and therefore, separate myself from) life itself.

Of course, this can’t be done. For how can a person be separated from life itself?

Two days ago while listening to “Don’t Let Me Down,” I lost all my defenses because, in a moment of grace, I imagined that God, the universe, or life, were singing the song to me. Stranded, reaching out, I call your name but you’re not around. I say your name but you’re not around. I hope this makes sense. Picturing an invisible “something bigger than me,” I thought, What if IT needs ME to be its arms and legs, to be a kinder, more compassionate, less defensive human being in order to make the world a more beautiful place? What if that’s part of the reason I’m here? What if life were saying to me, Don’t let down, don’t let me down?

I’m coming to believe that all of us are this important, this critical to what’s going on down here.

You don’t need walls in your life.

This morning while listening to “Don’t Let Me Down,” I got a picture of a small child lost in a forrest, crying out for help. Then came the image of a strong adult, rescuing the child, protecting the child. I see this as my inner adult coming to the rescue of my inner child. So many times over the years I’ve built up defenses in an effort to protect myself. And yet now I see clearly that defenses don’t just wall you off from the world–they wall you off from yourself, leaving you feeling alone and frightened, terrified of experiencing the ever-changing music that is life itself. But now I know that whatever comes my way, I don’t need walls in my life so much as I need my authentic self–my strong, able-to-rise-to-any-occasion, authentic self. Darling, I hope that you’ll be here when I need you the most. To me, this coming back to my authentic self feels like sipping a warm cup of coffee, a cool breeze blowing on my skin, or the sun shining on my face. This returning home feels like the arrival of spring, the most natural thing in the world.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"The heart sings for its own reasons."

This Is Where I Came From (Blog #381)

Currently I’m in Hot Springs, Arkansas, back in my home state after almost a full week in Tennessee. Y’all, I’m sorry, but sometimes I give my home state a lot of shit. Maybe not out loud, but I think, Life could be better somewhere else. But coming across the state line today along with two other writers and a member of the public relations group that brought us all together as travel writers, I felt a sense of pride. I thought, This is my home. I’m not saying I’m going to live here forever, but I am saying I realized that I know and love this place. This is where I came from. This is the land of my family. It’s beautiful.

Backing up, I slept in this morning, which was nice, and the four of us left Jackson, Tennessee, around noon-thirty. Basically we spent the day traveling. We hit some traffic, stopped in Little Rock for Gus’s Fried Chicken, and rolled into Hot Springs around six. They have us split up, but I’m staying at a new hotel on Central Avenue (the main drag in Hot Springs) called The Waters. I believe it used to be a hotel in the 1940s and reopened about 14 months ago. Y’all, it’s gorgeous, the perfect blend of old meets new. I walked in the room and thought, This is frickin’ fantastic. What a good life.

I seriously was like a little kid–checking out all the drawers, the sliding barn door to the bathroom, the view of Central Avenue. And then–and then–I saw a gift basket. I’m sure now that it was left by the local travel bureau or tourism department specifically for me (and the other writers in their respective rooms), but at first I thought it was full of hotel items for sale. Am I supposed to open this? I thought. (I finally decided I was supposed to open it.) Y’all, there was all kinds of swag–candy, chocolate, bath salts, skin conditioner, soap, and even handcrafted olive oil. Talk about being spoiled. Later I told my dad about all the free gifts and wonderful food this week, and he said, “Don’t expect that kind of treatment when you come home.”

Thanks, Dad.

After checking into the hotel, I met the rest of the crew for dinner, which–I don’t mind saying–was delicious. It was as good as any meal I’ve had all week, even though it wasn’t on our official schedule (which doesn’t start until tomorrow evening when all the other travel writers arrive.) That being said, I had a little issue at dinner, a small, um, encounter. (I still can’t decide whether or not I handled it well.) Here’s what happened–I ordered a beer (on draft), and the waitress brought me a different kind without saying anything. When I noticed the switch, a conversation ensued, and she said that they were out of what I ordered, but that was she brought me was similar. This was said without apology or further explanation. Admittedly, I got passive aggressive and sarcastic. I said, “Thanks for asking me.”

Snarky, I know.

A person’s internal experience is valid.

In response, the waitress said that she could comp the beer or get me something else. I said, “Let me have a moment to try it and process things, then I’ll decide.” Well, when she walked away, I said, “That was awkward.” And I know it was. Even now, I think about the way my colleagues responded, and it was slightly stressful. But it did get better. First, I actually liked the beer. (Drink half of any beer on an empty stomach, and you’ll probably like it too.) Second, the waitress came back and apologized. By that point, I was clear about how to handle it. Calmly I said, “I wish you would have asked me before making any substitutions. That should have been my choice, not yours.” And whereas it was still awkward, at least I spoke my truth. This is the “big win” for me–a year or two ago I would have “been nice,” worried about people pleasing more than expressing my dissatisfaction, said everything was “just fine.” But after all these years of therapy, I believe a person’s internal experience is valid. Not that you have to flip over tables and refuse to pay for services rendered when things don’t go your way, but as a customer and as a human being, it’s okay to say, “This bothers me.”

Even if it’s awkward for someone else.

After dinner, it was back to everything being wonderful. My friends dropped me off at the hotel, and I went next door to The Ohio Club, the oldest (longest running) bar in the state or Arkansas, apparently. (It’s named the Ohio Club because Northerners–carpet baggers–came to the south after the Civil War and named businesses after their home state.) Y’all, it had a stunning backbar (2,000 pounds), live blues music, and–most importantly–a great waitress, Tina. I sat for a couple hours, drank more beer, had some fried mushrooms. (No self-control.) While this went on, Tina told me about the bar (there are bullet holes in the original tin ceiling, and the roulette table on the wall was found in a hidden passage from prohibition days), as well Hot Springs (the city was home to the gangster that The Great Gatsby was based on, a guy named Owney Madden, who had a long affair with Mae West, who used to work in The Ohio Club).

Crazy, right?

Now it’s twelve-thirty in the morning, and I’m back in my gorgeous room, within reaching distance of the gift-bag chocolate. It’s already halfway gone. Since we don’t have plans until tomorrow evening, I don’t have to set an alarm for the morning. I can’t tell you how much this excites me. Also, it excites me to see my progress. At one point I would have been nervous on a trip like this, unsure of how to handle myself, thinking I needed to act a certain way in order to fit in or make someone else happy. And whereas I plan to continue to be professional and do my job, now I’m clear–I’m going to be me, I’m going to live and speak my truth, as much as I’m able. This is what coming home really is for me, being comfortable in my skin wherever I am, whatever the situation. Again, I’m coming to love this place, this beautiful self, this land that has been patiently waiting for me to come back to it.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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You really do belong here.

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Stuffed (with Gratitude) (Blog #380)

Y’all. Stick a fork in me, I’m done. Today was our group’s last day in Jackson (Western Tennessee), and all we did was eat, eat, and eat some more. I currently feel like the Stay-Puft Marshmallow man–all squishy. My skin is going nuts; it’s red and inflamed. It’s like all the sugar and alcohol from this week are looking for an escape route out of my liver. More likely, my liver is fed up with my recent behavior and has handed over its clean-up duties to my skin, like, Here–you take care of this muscadine wine and fried apple pie. I should probably help out the team and stop eating so much.

Once I get home to Arkansas, The Detox is on.

Now let’s talk about how I got myself into this dietary mess. This morning started with a trip to the local farmers market, which sounds healthy enough, but the Amish were there with their God Bless-ed Pastries. Then there was a food truck called Cock-A-Doodle Dough that was full of gigantic donuts. I didn’t actually buy any of these sugar-laden delights, but others did and offered to share them. In an effort to be gracious–and only in an effort to be gracious–I hesitantly accepted their offer and somehow managed to choke down several gooey bites that were each roughly the size of a baseball.

Ack. It was terrible. The things I do to be gracious.

Here’s a picture of what I’ll be choking down next week.

After the farmers market, we visited an area downtown called The Local. Y’all, it’s the coolest thing. The city got a grant to build tiny rentable spaces for small businesses that are just getting started and need affordable rent.  I checked out all the shops, and one lady made candles and bath bombs, and one guy had a wonderful vintage clothing store called The Lost Reserve. I was this close to buying an original E.T. (the movie) t-shirt from him, but it a size small and–well–donuts. Another girl had a store cuter than all of Pinterest combined, and there was a shirt that said, “I wish I were full of tacos instead of emotions.” Amen, sister. Amen.

And I basically am.

After The Local, we went to an old Carnegie Library, which is now a rock and roll museum largely dedicated to Carl Perkins. If you don’t know, Carl Perkins was the singer who wrote “Blue Suede Shoes,” made famous by Elvis Presley, and he was born right here in Jackson. And whereas the folks at Graceland told me that Elvis never owned a pair of blue suede shoes, Carl Perkins apparently owned a pair of blue suede boots, since they were in his collection of things that I saw today. Here’s another fun fact I learned at the museum–the first Hard Rock Cafe was opened in Jackson. It’s closed now, but the guy who opened it is from here, although now he’s apparently a spiritual disciple of Sai Baba, an Indian guru. (Sai Baba is technically no longer alive, but I guess it doesn’t matter when you’re following someone who claims to be an eternal deity.)

For lunch we ate at an old railway hotel (a hotel by a railway) called The Chandelier. It was crazy good–I had fried green tomatoes, fried chicken with black-eyed peas on top of mashed potatoes, and–for dessert–chocolate creme brûlée. I practically had to roll myself out the front door. I can’t tell you how glad I am that I recently invested in stretchy jeans. Talk about one of man’s best inventions. Seriously, whoever came up with those things should get a Nobel Peace Prize. I can only imagine they’ve made A LOT of people like me extremely happy.

After lunch our group split up, but I went with several folks to Century Farms, a local winery. Y’all, I lost count, but I think I sampled thirteen wines (along with a bunch of cheese, fruit, and chocolate). One of wines was elderberry, which I requested because I’d been told at the farmers market that it was “medicinal,” great for fighting off colds and flus. So yeah, I was drinking, but basically it was like a prescription. Anyway, along with the tasting, we also got to learn about the wine-making process, which I found fascinating. I’ll spare you most of the details, but here’s a picture of the fermentation process where yeast eats sugar and converts it to alcohol, letting off CO2–bubbles–as a byproduct.

Our next stop was–uh–more drinking, this time at a local distillery, Samuel T. Bryant. There we sampled what amounted to whiskey, scotch, tequila, and a few different types of moonshine. (You can’t technically call it scotch or tequila unless it comes from Scotland or Mexico.) Again, we got to learn about how the liquor was made, but the complicated details kind of made my head spin (or maybe that was the alcohol). Actually, the owner said that hangovers are usually caused by bottom-shelf alcohol, meaning that they haven’t been distilled or purified as well (into ethanol) and thus have more toxins (methanol). However, the most interesting thing I learned today was that prohibition had little to do with morality. Rather, it was all about money. See, America used to be full of farmers, and farm equipment could run on alcohol. So rather than pay for oil and gasoline, farmers made their own fuel in the form of moonshine. Well, this didn’t go over well with the oil company owners. Enter prohibition, which stayed around just long enough for farming equipment to be re-engineered to run on only oil and gas and not alcohol. At that point, the ban on alcohol was lifted.

Or at least that’s what the guy today said. I just Googled it, and there are plenty of people who disagree. (Welcome to America.)

The last stop today was a long one, the Casey Jones Museum, which is part of a “village” or shopping center that includes several historical buildings and one gigantic restaurant, Brook Shaw’s Old Country Store. But back to the museum. Casey Jones was a railroad engineer at the end of the 1800s and had a reputation for always being on time. Well, one ill-fated night, in an effort to be punctual, ole Casey was speeding, barreling down the tracks at 75 to 100 miles per hour. Unfortunately, another train was stalled on the tracks just miles from Casey’s intended destination. You can imagine what happened next–physics. In other words, there was a big crash. (Let this be a lesson to all you people who refuse to be late wherever you go.) Anyway, since Casey saw the crash coming, he was able to slow down the train and save nearly everyone on board–except himself. (He stayed on the train to pull the brakes.) Later, when people started writing songs about Casey’s brave act, he quickly became a national hero and folk legend.

Y’all, the museum really was cool. Casey’s actual house is on-site, as well as the pocket watch he had on him when he died. Plus, there was a lot of train memorabilia, and as someone who grew up loving trains, I was in heaven.

After the museum, we checked out some of the other historic buildings, then we wrapped the whole trip up with an “all you can enjoy” country-cooking buffet. And just like the rest of the week, my self-control was nowhere to be found. After fried chicken and macaroni and cheese (and a salad!), I had blackberry cobbler, peach cobbler, half an apple fried pie, and two-thirds of a chocolate milkshake.

Halfway through the milkshake, my insulin put in its two-weeks notice.

Now it’s two-and-a-half hours later (11:30 PM), and I’m still experiencing the consequences of my bad choices. BUT–I’ve had a glorious–absolutely wonderful–time this week on my first travel-writing tour. I’ve eaten a ton of fabulous food, seen some amazing places, and met some even better people. (Pictured at the top of the blog are two of them–Jill and Paul). So I have no regrets–only gratitude. Plus, I get to sleep in tomorrow before driving (technically riding) to Hot Springs, Arkansas, and doing it all over again. What is there NOT to be grateful for?

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Just as there’s day and night literally, there’s also day and night emotionally. Like the sun, one minute we’re up, the next minute we’re down. Our perspectives change constantly. There’s nothing wrong with this. The constellations get turned around once a day, so why can’t you and I? Under heaven, there’s room enough for everything–the sun, the moon and stars, and all our emotions. Yes, the universe–our home–is large enough to hold every bit of us.

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Carbohydrates and Bald Eagles (Blog #379)

Y’all, today was another great day. Well, except for the fact that I had to wake up at six-fifteen. In the morning. But really–and I wouldn’t want this information to get around–I can actually function at early hours. Who knew? The sunrise doesn’t kill me. Like, I didn’t turn to stone, melt, or anything. I just dragged my luggage downstairs, hopped in a car, and off we went–out of Memphis and into the heart of Western Tennessee. (This press tour is all over the map.) Our first stop, about an hour outside of Memphis, was Brownsville, the home of the Delta Heritage Center and Tina Turner Museum. (Tina was born nearby.) It was great. Again, this is such a cool gig–they had donuts and coffee waiting for us.

I’m getting so fat.

Leaving Brownsville, we drove another hour or so to Union City, home to Discovery Park of America, basically a hands-on science museum for kids, but so much more. There’s a collection of arrow heads and old cars, a Japanese garden, and even an earthquake simulator. The park was started by the founder of Kirkland’s, the home goods store. (He was born in Union City and donated a hundred million dollars to the museum in order to give back to his community.) After eating lunch at the museum, we only had an hour or so to look around, but it really was a treat. A new friend of mine took the above photo of me with the Buddha, and later we both went down the world’s second-fastest slide, which was cleverly disguised as a giant metal man. (See the picture below. You enter just below his neck on the third floor and exit out his left leg on the second.)

Whoosh!

When we left Discovery Park, we went to Reelfoot Lake–uh–somewhere not too far away from Union City. (I wasn’t driving.) Reelfoot used to be only swamplands, but turned into a fourteen-thousand-acre lake about two hundred years ago after a series of earthquakes changed the topography of the land and the flow of the Mississippi River. Anyway, we spent the rest of the afternoon there, riding around on a pontoon boat, checking out the cypress trees and various birds. Notice in the picture below that the cypress tress spread out at the bottom and even grow their roots ABOVE the water in order to survive in such wet conditions.

We even got to see a few bald eagles, which the park rangers had in captivity because they were injured. Here’s a picture of one. Notice that it only has one foot. (That’s how they found it.) Another fun fact–bald eagles have a pretty wimpy, squeaky-toy-like screech. Not scary at all. For this reason, many movies that feature bald eagles dub over the cry of a red-tailed hawk, since it’s much more bitchin’ and intimidating.

For dinner we drove into Jackson, Tennessee, and ate at Rock N Dough Pizza and Brewery. It was awesome–cool atmosphere, a great staff. But OMG, I had so many carbs–salad, bread sticks, pizza, some donut thing for dessert, and beer. (I’ve got to get a grip.) Still, it was FRICKIN’ delicious. Plus, I DID have the flu for three weeks, so I figure this is all about balance. I can afford to indulge for a week.

Now we’re all settled into our respective hotel rooms (in Jackson), and I for one am ready to pass out. This trip is amazing, but it’s go-go-go, and tomorrow will be another full day. In other words, Daddy needs to wrap this up and get a solid-night’s rest. But seriously–it’s ten at night and I’m getting ready to go to bed? What has happened to me? (The sunrise–that’s what has happened to me.) Okay, I’m off to brush my teeth. May all your best memories involve carbohydrates and bald eagles.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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There’s a lot of magic around you.

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A Day Such As This (Blog #378)

Y’all, this travel-writing life is the way to go. Seriously, it’s the deal. Except for the getting up early part, I’m loving it. That being said, it’s go-go-go, even by my standards. This morning I got up at seven-forty-five, and it’s been non-stop ever since. (It’s ten-thirty now.) The day started at the National Civil Rights Museum, located at the Lorraine Motel, the place where Martin Luther King was assassinated in 1968. It’s honestly one of the most striking and well-done museums I’ve ever been to. Powerful. Then it was off to lunch, and–my word–there was so much food. I’ve only been here two days, and I’ve already undone all the “good” those two flu viruses did for my waistline last month. Like, I’ve probably gained ten pounds. I can’t believe I’ve got a week of this constant indulgence to go–I’m gonna HAVE to start ordering salads.

Surely I can find a modicum of self-control SOMEWHERE in my suitcase.

After lunch our group split up, and I went with several lovely people to the botanical gardens. This is one of the things I am LOVING about this trip–we’re doing all sorts of things that I love but would never think to do on my own, or at least would never make time for. We were only at the gardens for an hour and fifteen minutes, but it was so beautiful and relaxing. Our guide referred to it as “forest bathing.”

After the gardens, we went to the Memphis Zoo for an hour. Again, it was a whirlwind tour, but–like at the gardens–we were on a golf cart and had a private tour guide. This is why I say this is the only way to travel–less walking, more shade, and tons of good information. Like, at the zoo we learned about a species of penguins who despise cold weather, as well as some monkeys with rainbow-colored bottoms. When I asked why nature would make such a thing, our guide said, “They follow each other a lot, so their rears need to be easy to spot. Plus–who wouldn’t want one?”

I mean, I know I would.

Y’all, at the zoo I was like a total kid. I literally gasped out loud when I saw the elephants, polar bear, and giraffes. Seriously–for all the bullshit that life creates, it also creates some AMAZING creatures (ourselves included). Maybe we just get used to seeing certain amazing creatures and take them for granted. But when I saw the giant pandas and the hippopotamus, I was simply stunned. What a phenomenal world we live in.

When we left the zoo, we went straight to the Peabody Hotel for the daily duck walk. If you don’t know, the Peabody is famous for their ducks, these five mallards that march down a red carpet and into a fountain each morning, and march right back out in the evening. People go nuts for this shit, myself included. I shot a live video of the big affair, if you’d like to check it out. On one hand, it’s kind of ridiculous, but then again, it’s fabulous.

When the duck walk was over, our group got a private tour of the duck “mansion” on top of the hotel–by the Duck Master himself. No kidding, that’s an actual job and job title. (Remember this the next time someone tells you that you can’t make a living doing whatever it is you want to do.) Here’s a picture of some of our group and the Duck Master in one of the Peabody elevators.

Here are the ducks and their master on the rooftop.

Having a couple hours to kill, some of us went to a museum, and the rest of us, including me, toured the hotel and got VIP tickets to a party on the rooftop. (VIP meant that we got two free drinks and access to extra food.) And whereas the party went on until eleven, we left just before seven-thirty to go to dinner (and eat even more). I could go on and on about the food (and gorgeous waiter), but I digress. Suffice it to say that the atmosphere was stunning (in addition to the waiter, the restaurant used to be a silent movie theater), and the food was even better.

More than anything today, I’ve enjoyed the company of the other writers. Everyone I’ve met is so kind, and it’s like we’re an immediate tribe, all these independent and freelance writers, everyone trying to make it on their own. We get each other. So far everyone I’ve talked to ask questions and listens. They’re interested and interesting. One guy used to coach swimming and tennis, and another lends his voice to a character in a popular anime series. (Anime is Japanese animation, Mom.) A husband and wife couple who own a magazine in Florida also used to teach cotillion.

People are fascinating (even if they DON’T have rainbow-colored bottoms).

Okay, now it’s just after eleven, and I HAVE to wind down. Tomorrow morning we are supposed to be out of our rooms just after seven, since we’re driving to a different part of the state (I think)–and I still need to pack. For these reasons, I’ve been telling myself all day that I’d keep tonight’s post short, which I haven’t. Still, I may need to keep it un-profound, as that might require more time than I currently have. But surely it’s profound enough to simply acknowledge and enjoy a great day, a day full of fascination and wonder, a day full of beauty from sunup to sundown, a day such as this or any other.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Normal people don’t walk on water.

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That Untouchable Thing (Blog #377)

When I was a kid, my sister had a crush on Elvis Presley, and I guess I did too. Not that I talked about it. Still, we grew up watching his movies, listening to his music. At some point, our parents took us to Graceland. I can still remember the mansion–the long couch in the living room, the entertainment room downstairs, the pool table, even the airplane with the bed where he slept. As we got older, both my sister and I turned our attention to other things, but it’s weird how those childhood fondnesses hang on. Now when I hear Elvis’s music, especially if I’m dancing to it, there’s part of me that comes alive and feels like a kid again.

As I mentioned yesterday, I’m in Memphis this week as part of a media tour. This morning, Graceland was our first stop. Y’all, it’s grown in the last thirty years–not Graceland itself, but Elvis Presley Enterprises. They’ve built a new hotel and expanded the museum to a building across the street. Well, it’s a complex, basically–two hundred thousand square feet of The King–records, awards, souvenirs, and jumpsuit after jumpsuit.

So. Many. Rhinestones.

After seeing the museum, we toured Graceland proper, and whereas it was “smaller” than I remembered as a child, it was almost exactly the same. (Some items have been moved across the street.) It was so surreal–I’d have a picture in my head, then I’d walk around a corner, and there it would be, the Jungle Room, the racquetball court. For me, it was all phenomenal. The digital tour (we were each given tablets with pictures and audio) was hosted by John Stamos, and I learned that Elvis bought Graceland as a twenty-two year-old. Can you imagine? His parents and other family members lived there with him, since he’d grown up poor and always promised them a better home, a better life.

Fun fact–John Stamos’s character, Uncle Jesse, on Full House, was named as a tribute to Elvis’s twin brother (Jesse), who died at birth.

During the tour, our guide said that Elvis had quite the temper. One day he got made at the news, so he pulled out a gun and shot the television. It’s now on display in the museum. (Think about having one of your worst moments immortalized for all the world to see.) Something else I found interesting was that Elvis was always surrounded by his best friends, often referred to as The Memphis Mafia. Our guide said if Elvis bought one car, he bought thirteen; if he bought one motorcycle, he bought thirteen–all for him and his friends.

After the tour we had lunch at Vernon’s, a barbecue restaurant named after Elvis’s dad (Vernon). We had some extra time after lunch, so I toured Elvis’s planes. The big one, The Lisa Marie, is the one with the bed. And whereas I remembered the bed and the gold sink in the bathroom, I’d forgotten about the meeting room, the television set, and the Gatorade bottle at the bar. I mean, surely I must have seen them before. It’s funny how your mind does that–hangs on to one memory and lets go of another.

When we left Graceland, we went immediately to Sun Records, the recording studio where Elvis got his start when he was still a teenager. Our guide there, Tiffany (she was over-the-top amazing), referred to the recording studio itself as “hollowed ground,” this little room filled with old guitars and an upright piano, home to Elvis Presley, Jerry Lee Lewis, and Johnny Cash, to name a few. Y’all, I’m not ashamed to say that I teared up more than once today, both at Graceland and at Sun. By the world’s standards, Elvis came from nowhere, he was no one. But he had a nice face, a ton of talent, and maybe more determination. One day he was basically living in a run-down shack, the next, Graceland.

I can’t tell you how inspiring this is. Talk about turning your life around.

Here’s a video of Tiffany telling the story of how Elvis was “discovered” by Sam Phillips, the owner of Sun. (Elvis had been jamming at Sun for a while and finally hit upon a sound and song that Sam liked and approved of.) The next thing the world knew, Elvis was on the radio singing, “That’s Alright, Mama.” As Tiffany says, “The rest is history.”

Soul–that untouchable thing that always insists on rising.

When we left Sun, we went to Stax Museum. Stax was another Memphis recording company, the one that brought us such artists as Otis Redding, Sam and Dave, Isaac Hayes, and Booker T. and the MG’s. There, because of the type of music they were producing, there was a big emphasis on “soul,” that quality in music born out of slavery and the blues, out of pain and hardship. Soul–that untouchable thing that always insists on rising. And what a beautiful thing, to take any kind of pain or negative life experience and turn it into something creative with depth and grit, something beautiful that brings joy to others. Here we are decades later, and millions, including me, are still smiling.

Our last “tour stop” today was Royal Studios, which I had never heard of and was completely off the beaten path. Y’all, it was in the hood. I guess it used to be a silent movie theater–the floor steadily slopes from the front to the back–but it just looked like an old beat-up building. At least on the outside. But on the inside–y’all, Royal Studios was home to Al Green. He recorded all his albums there. Over the years, Royal Studios has recorded and produced AC/DC (Back in Black album), Keith Richards, Ann Peebles, Melissa Ethridge, and–recently–Mark Ronson and Bruno Mars. That’s right, Royal Studios produced “Uptown Funk.” The studio was started by Willie Mitchell, and his son, Boo, gave us the tour today. He said, “It was four in the morning, and they were still writing the song. We’d run out of booze, so I broke open an old bottle, a special edition, that belonged to my father when he was alive. (Willie Mitchell was a famous singer and producer in his own right.) I said, ‘Sorry, Pops.’ I brought the bottle back to where we were recording, and Bruno said, ‘Boo Mitchell–fill my cup, put some liquor in it.’ An hour later, those words were in the song.”

Is that cool or what?

(That’s a picture of me and Boo at the top of the blog. Boo’s father, Willie, is pictured behind us.)

No one is immune from life’s challenges.

The last thing our group did today was eat dinner (and a lot of it) at The Gray Canary. The staff was kind enough to charge my phone while we were eating, so I didn’t take any pictures until dessert. But y’all, it was the perfect evening, a chance to sit down, unwind, let it all soak in (the food and the entire day). I’m still over-the-moon. Mostly I’ve been thinking about Elvis. The tour guide didn’t say it specifically, but I got the sense that he was lonely, the way he always surrounded himself with so many people. I guess no one is immune from life’s challenges and emotions. Elvis apparently did a lot of spiritual reading, trying to make sense of why he, a boy from Tupelo, Mississippi, would be given so much fame and fortune. And who knows why things happen as they do? But I think it’s beautiful and oh-so-inspiring whenever any soul, despite its challenges and perhaps because of them, grits through the creation process, rises, and lifts others up along the way.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Growth and getting far in life have nothing to do with where you’re physically standing.

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