Mississippi River Day 1-2: 4-1-22 New Orleans and the Big Muddy
We left home in the afternoon. The Delta flight was right on time, but what we didn’t know (sorry basketball fans) is that the Big Four play-off is at the Superdome this weekend! Oops. Our plane was full of tall and enthusiastic fans and was packed full. By the time we boarded, there was no more room for overhead storage, so we had to squish our three carry-ons under our two seats, my feet resting on top. The movie “A Bridge Too Far” quieted our anxiety and prepped us for the National WWII Museum, which we’ll do first thing tomorrow.
We arrived at around midnight to the Grand Victorian Bed and Breakfast, a gorgeous mansion. All the lights were on and Hoyt was waiting for us on the front porch. He kindly helped lug our luggage up the 24 steps with a few turns, down a long hall, through a door, into our room, then down another 12 stairs to the bedroom. We were in the balcony suite, complete with a lovely poster bed, giant armoire, and a balcony decorated with twinkle lights. This gorgeous house takes us back at least a hundred years and is a terrific start to this new journey.
Mississippi River Day 3: 4-2-22
Even though we’re in Civil War country, the National WWII Museum is fabulous. We spent 5 1/2 hours there today—before lunch! It was just so riveting (no pun intended!) We each received dog tags for a different soldier that we could follow through the museum. John’s solider was a true hero who was brought home to help raise money for war bonds. He wanted to help the war effort so much that he begged to go back. He then returned to the Pacific, eventually dying a hero’s death at Iwo Jima. My guy got his mother to vouch that he was 17 when he was only 15! When they discovered the age problem, they caller her. She said, “Keep him.” He stayed safe through the war and ended up working in construction back home. Cute story.
The museum uses lots of film and personal accounts from interviews with veterans. Terrific stories. One of our favorites was of a soldier who was able to capture a platoon of German soldiers. As they were rounding them up, he asked each where he was from. One said “Portland, Oregon!” He’d had dual citizenship so when Hitler begged for men to return home and help build the super race, he succumbed. Our soldier then asked, “How do you feel now?” The answer was, “That I goofed!”
After the museum, we rested up for our wild Saturday night in the French Quarter. Everyone has given us recommendations on where to go and I had the list ready! We dressed up and headed out by streetcar (a real perk of the trip) and then found ourselves on the seedy side of the street! What we saw was orderly, but messy. It was like Disneyland with trash. There were a few street acts, but none of the music that I was looking for. We did see a gutbucket bass, kids playing bucket drums, a tennis shoe tap dancer, and a strange corner act. That’s when I succumbed. The kid looked scholarly and out of place! I had to ask what he was doing there with his tiny typewriter sitting upon a tiny desk. He said he was a street poet and that he would write me a poem on any subject I wanted in just a few minutes (Just like in “Kismet!”) With my suggestions, he typed out his deepest thoughts. I now own a signed original!
We ate at one of the restaurants on our list— Pat O’Brien’s. The Final Four was on. Looked like UNC was winning…. Whoo hoo! Good night!
Mississippi River Day 3: 4-3-22 The Big Easy
Today was a day for the miles. We walked 6 of them. We had planned with a move in mind. Since we’ll be staying at the Hilton Riverside tonight as part of our cruise, we packed early and moved our luggage down to Hoyt’s office, then headed out for college visits!
It’s been a few years since I’ve visited colleges, but today I got two for one. Loyola and Tulane are right next to each other separated by the Holy Name of Mary Catholic Church (where I stopped in for Mass.) We took gorgeous pictures of each school. Everything was in bloom. Tulane was especially beautiful with the sweeping live oak trees, lovely Georgian architecture, and one tree that was streaming with thousands of Mardi Gras Necklaces, all sparkling in the sun.
From there, we caught the streetcar back to the Grand Victorian and said goodbye to wonderful Hoyt, who stood by the door waving as we left by Uber. Our driver was a delightful woman who advised us to have crayfish and peach daiquiris. She took us to our next stop, the chaos of the Hilton Riverside. The place was buzzing. People everywhere, every one a basketball fan. And since the Superdome seats 70,000 and the riverboats and cruise ships (headed for the Gulf) create their own crowds, the population in the city was screaming. We escaped to the French Quarter on John’s quest for a fine meal and my quest for street music.
At the Court of Three Sisters, we found both! Without reservations (boy were we lucky), we were seated indoors. The musicians would be back soon—and the food was buffet… Loving both had crayfish and peach daiquiris. Red shells piled high and delicately mixed into other seafood dishes. Hmmm, delicious! My hands were dripping with juice. The trio was a standing bass, tenor, and a guitar. Their first tune was “Struttin’ with Some Barbecue” played basanova style! Then to a Miles tune, “All Blues.” One more tune and we had to go!
Around the corner was Preservation Hall where we had tickets for the 2:30 seating. When I made the reservations, I was looking for either a lead trumpet or a lead clarinet. Among all the choices, one stood out as absolutely perfect, someone we’ll never forget. A quartet with a lead trumpet player named Will Smith, no kidding! They were wonderful! Louis Ford on clarinet had the style of always standing up when his solo jumped to the upper register. Loved every note. They played Milenberg Joy, I Beg Your Pardon, and When You’re Smilin’, St. James Infirmary, Shake that Thing and that was the show.
From there, it was back to the streets, looking for jazz. Lots of bands were booming loud music, sometimes at each other from across the street. It was the cacophony that put extra speed in our steps. No worries about theft as there were police everywhere, but the charm of the place was wanting. Finally, I checked my list. Lafitte’s Blacksmith bar was next. Maybe there would be some action on the way. We were up to 4 miles so far in the day. At the landmark, all we could do was peek inside the darkened shack. People were on every stool, standing from here to bar, milling about in the doorways, seated in all the outdoor chairs, and even overflowing to the streets where they stood drinking cocktails and beer with great cheer. We took it in and moved on.
Still looking for street music, I got John to stop at a single violinist just doodling like he didn’t even play. I’d filled my pockets with dollars and was eager to tip, but this guy wasn’t even warming up. Then I read his sign. “Bad advice given.” Now here was an opportunity! John helped and I gave him my problem (ask me later) and he gave the best bad advice I’ve ever heard! I happily shed one of my dollars and we left laughing.
Checking the GPS, we realized that we were a long way from the hotel. In addition to sore feet, John was lugging his 40-pound camera backpack. We really did need to make our way back to the happy Hilton. With no time to traverse all the streets for music, we headed for the river. As we got closer, the action picked up again. There was art for sale, scarves and all kinds of doo-dads. Then a familiar face! Seated in the middle of the street, now with two friends, all with their tiny typewriters was our poet from the night before! Alexander! We had a nice reunion and exchanged stories. I found out about his college experience (of course!) and then pulled out the poem he’d written for me for him to copy. He told us where to find live street music, but sadly it meant going several black away from our destination, which was at least a mile away. We just couldn’t.
On the long and ragged walk back, we did happen upon a rather bad band trying to play Dixieland. Good for them— too far to give a dollar, but we nodded. The hotel and the evening brought us into the swarming crowds of Lafitte’s right in our hotel. People everywhere. All restaurants booked. The whole town in overload. So, we ordered room service with plenty of liquor!! (One beer each.) Good night!
Mississippi River Day 4: 4-4-22 Getting to the River
We were packed at 8 am with luggage ready. We had breakfast downstairs (grits and gravy) and then it was off to our bus tour of New Orleans. The tour guide was full of true and odd facts (who knew that Nicholas Cage has a tomb in the St. Louis Cemetery? He loves this city and wants to stay here for eternity!) That’s the kind of knowledge that we learned today. Okay, there were some real facts about burial practices above ground and how high the water came during Katrina, and that grass and dirt make better levies than concrete, and that the pumps are like turbines working backward.
Early on, the bus stopped at the far end of French Quarter which gave us a chance to walk down Frenchman Ave where my personal poet told us there might be music. All the shops were dark, but we’ve now seen DBA, Snug Harbor, and the Spotted Cat… so I’ll know where to come next time when I want lots of live music and have the money to pay for it. Back on the bus, we drove down St. Charles Street and went right by Grand Victorian where we stayed for two nights and right by the colleges, the park, and the zoo. John caught me napping but woke me in time for the beignet stop. We have now eaten the powder-covered twist and washed it down with a swig of decafe. Yum. On that stop, we also photographed our first swamp, complete with low-hanging live oaks covered in Spanish moss—all with stories, all just gorgeous.
On our freeway ride back, we had a good long look at the Superdome, again with Katrina references. People were housed there until the roof started to go. And there was a watermark halfway up the ramp indicating how far the water had come. The place is gigantic, so big in fact that I suggested that patrons in the cheap seats might need very expensive binoculars to actually see the ball!
The tour ended at the boat (not a ship, even though it’s big.) And what a boat it was, much prettier than expected! It was freshly painted red, black, and white with crown-shaped smokestacks and wrought iron railings running fore and aft on every deck. The best was, as the bus door opened, Dixieland music wafted in. A live band was playing on the bow. Hooray!
I wanted to go right upstairs, but we were directed left and aft. We were under orders to first make sure our luggage had arrived before clinking a glass of “welcome champagne” at the music party. Finally, there, we sat listening to “Alexander’s Ragtime Band.” When the guys took a break, I introduced myself to Dave, the clarinet player. When I asked him about his barrel and ligature, he said, “You must play clarinet yourself!” I learned he’d been in the Army band in Germany and stayed on in the business. Then I learned the best part— they are sailing with us! We’re going to get a steady, daily dose of really good Dixieland. They’re called the Steamboat Syncopators, and they syncopate very nicely!
Next, we toured around. We found the real steam-powered paddle and the engine room to take pictures of the piston arm—magnificent. True story. The engineer looked a little green so I conversed with him a bit. When we asked him about steamboat races, he knew nothing about it. “Not since I’ve been here,” he said. And how long has that been, I asked. “One week!” Thankfully, he’s not the first engineer, but the third… and still learning what all the dials do, I think.
There are shows on this boat. The show tonight was a preview of all the shows. It was a delightful variety kind of thing— a bit of song and dance, storytelling, comedy, and Dixieland, of course. Looks like a fun week. Stay tuned.
Mississippi River Day 5: 4-5-22 Laissez les bon temps roulette! Let the good times roll!
The night noises on the boat are going to take a bit of getting used to. Still, we were up on time and on the bus for our plantation tour of Nottoway. Our guides were real showmen in period dress. The big points were that the 64-room house (50,000 sq feet) took John and Emily Randolph 10 years to build, has Carrera marble throughout, uses bricks handmade by slaves, and housed the last 3 of their 11 children, seven of them daughters. One room is painted completely white to welcome each gift when she becomes a bride. The 7th child, Cornelia, was a daughter who was allowed to learn the Spanish guitar, quite scandalous for her age. And when the Civil War came to the area, John, the husband, and many of the slaves were off in Texas, leaving his wife Emily alone with the last of the small children including Cornelia. She managed both the Confederate and Union soldiers by offering the commanders tea, an expensive beverage, so rare that they were honored to try it. Because of her gentility, they did not cause any damage to her or the house, which had just been completed. Cool story.
Sugarcane is the big crop in this area and one of the ways that John Randolph made his money. The house was one of the first to have three indoor toilets, gas lighting throughout, and warm water (made possible by wrapping copper wires around the fireplaces!)
After a brief stop back at the ship, we headed out again on the long-awaited and much-revered “Swamp Tour.” Ta-da! This was a total Jungle Cruise complete with a snaky river through dense vegetation and full of all sorts of surprises. Our guide, Danny, is a large man and a Cajun. He had an accent and the kind of exaggerations that just make a person cooperate. “Get yo arms back inside the boat, else a gator likely jump up and take a bite!” He was very knowledgeable about the swamp and was the lead guide. He knew the history because he’d lived through most of it. And he knew the gators. Apparently, they like marshmallows because when he through a marshmallow in the water, gators big and small came swishing up to nab it. It was like a feeding frenzy from Jaws! Chomp chomp! The soft-shelled turtles knew to stay away, and we avoided “the nature show” just barely when the food meant for the turtles was noticed by the gators. But no worries. Everyone is okay.
We also saw a huge family of raccoons who wait in a little glen framed by live oaks for Danny to come by with feed for them. While they’re eating, it’s easy for a gator to come and pick off a little one, but they seemed content with marshmallows today.
And little did we know, swamps are haunted. Apparently, they’re very good places to hide dead bodies as well. Lots of people “disappear” in the swamp. Throw one in, and your job is done. The gators do the rest. Creepy funny, but real…Ooo hooo…
Mississippi River Day 6: 4-6-22 Sailing on the River
We started early at breakfast with a Michigan group. The things you learn. Did you know that your hand is in the shape of Michigan and if you want to show that you went around the state, you just show your outstretched palm and outline the thumb and all around the four fingers? Nothing to do with the river, but it was something new!
We went into Pointe Coupee Parish today and toured the LeJune House, a gorgeous old home, built in the late 1800s and the first house in New Roads, Louisiana. It was part of a tobacco plantation and had a giant live oak in back that is 300 years old and thirty feet in circumference. We toured the house by walking along the two-story porch and peering into windows manned by docents. What a great way to show off one’s private home without worrying that the public will walk off with the good silver. The two guys who own it have lived here for 15 years but only started showing the house last fall. It’s taken them that long to restore it so completely. The gardens were mostly vegetables… the artichokes are getting big!
From there, we watched a local woodcarver at the historical center, toured the Catholic Church, and resisted the urge to buy pecans. It was a charming day in the Deep South.
Back on the boat, we had lunch with a couple of traveling buddies, Nancy and Jim. It took us about five minutes to discover that Nancy had something in common with us. She’d been to Antarctica and after all these years still considers it to be the best destination of all her world travels. She’s been there four times! Not only that, but she really wanted to see our Antarctica pictures. Darn, I don’t have the ingredients for Chilly Penguin or Rookery Pie with me, but we made do. Since this was a day “at sea” we arranged to meet later. I sorted the pictures I have on my iPad and we put together a short show with lots of themes. It gave Nancy a chance to add in her memories with ours. Turns out she’d sailed on the same icebreaker my dad did. Lots of good times— but we lost track of the river.
Meanwhile, mystery picture below. Any guesses?
To get back to the South, we went to the first show and heard the rhythm and blues of the South. The musicians all played backup to the vocalist who sang like Whitney Houston…gorgeous.
After dinner, we visited the engine room again and had a long talk with the first engineer who has been on the job since 2000. He told us about all the things that can go wrong— paddles break, gaskets blow, and the pressure gets too high. Apparently two nights ago, perhaps what woke me up, a big of tree floating down the river was kicked into the paddles and made a horrible racket. It might have damaged one of the paddles or even bent a bracket. He said the noise was tremendous and yet we sail on. These guys can fix anything. A comforting thought as we go to sleep. Good night.
Mississippi River Day 7: 4-7-22 Natchez Mississippi
We started the day right off with history. The bus driver narrated between the miles. We learned that this area was first populated by the Natchez Indians who befriended the French, who then took too much land, caused a disagreement, and then killed the entire population. Not a great introduction to the town. The good news is that this town was mostly spared during the Civil War because so many of the citizens were transplants from the north and therefore were Union sympathizers. The representatives voted against the succession of Mississippi. While the state still left the union, Natchez was known for its Union sympathy.
We also learned about the role of cotton. Everyone talked about it…the bus driver, the guide to the Rosalie Mansion, and the curator of the Museum of African American History. When the cotton gin was invented, cotton became king. Everyone in the industry became fabulously wealthy and the mansions grew. Rosalie Mansion has imported marble and chandeliers because of cotton, but since it has been preserved by the Garden Club, the pictures on the wall are very one-sided. John noticed the initials “CSA” on the fancy dress of the “king and queen” at the ceremony they have every year. The docent admitted that yes, they still wear Confederate States of America belts and that none of the crowned has been African American. The Garden Club has done a lot for preservation in the town but hasn’t found a way to be inclusive yet. Maybe it’s coming. They haven’t had their big event for two years and have just canceled it for this year as well.
When we arrived at the Museum of African American History, we were shocked by its poverty. This is wonderful museum that has so much to tell, but none of the fancy cases or displays of other museums. The curator gave a terrific talk at the end that included local heroes such as Richard Wright and Medgar Evers. We put a big bill in the donation box. In just a few hours, we could feel the strain of politics in this area.
Our cotton experience gave us a chance to sing gospel songs, walk through slave cabins, pick cotton, and see the early machinery up close. We came away with great handfuls of fresh cotton which we’d love to share!
The Longwood Mansion was both spectacular and crazy. Who thought of this nut house? The dream was to build an octagonal home of descending size as it went upwards. The building had been framed in and the basement finished when the war started. All the workers were from the north and dropped their hammers to head home. The only person who stayed on the job was the roofer because—politics aside— he just couldn’t leave this magnificent structure without a roof! Because of him, the house stands today, but it’s quite an experience. The basement is a complete house in the round. It’s just lovely. But when we climbed the roughhewn staircase, we found ourselves on the first floor of an unfinished house. The walls were up, but the floors were still raw. For a house started in 1859, this looks pretty fresh! Looking up is the crazy part. Each floor was successively smaller in the eight-sided shape with the center revealing an open view straight up—boards and cross beams, all unfinished and waiting. The committee has decided not to ever finish this amazingly crazy house for historical reasons. I’m dizzy from the view.
Oh, and the answer to yesterday’s mystery picture was —a calliope, a steam-powered keyboard instrument that plays whistles! Everything you play sounds like Popeye the Sailor Man!
Mississippi River Day 8: 4-8-22 The Battle of Vicksburg, the Turning Point
Today started with the Hop on, Hop off bus tour of Vicksburg. We didn’t have time for much before our excursion started, but we did visit the Old Depot Museum with the coolest set of electric trains east of the Mississippi. The outstanding feature though was the diorama of the Battle of Vicksburg. Too bad we couldn’t have done this exhibit after seeing the actual battlefield. Stay tuned.
On to the Church of the Holy Trinity, famous for having six Tiffany glass windows. The remaining German windows were brighter and livelier while the Tiffany windows had subtle colors and seemed calmer. No opinions here except we liked the German windows better— a lot better.
The Anchuca Mansion, which the docent said retains original floors and molding was our favorite house of the whole trip. The decorations retained the approximate style of the time, but the stairway was the amazing centerpiece of the house. It was double-wide with two ways up to the middle and two ways up from there, like a big X. It was just great. During the Civil War, the story goes that this was a boarding house for both Union and Confederate officers at the same time! The two sides got along so well that they drank and played cards together at night. They housed the Union men on the top floor so that the building wasn’t hit by canon fire. The other fun fact is that Anchuca was owned by Jefferson Davis’s older brother (like a father to him, they said) so when Davis was released from Fortress Monroe after the Civil War, this is where he came. While he could not give any political speeches, he did step out onto the large balcony off the second floor and greet the citizens of the town. Very cool house and story.
We had just enough time to stop at the Lower Mississippi River Museum and look at modern ways to keep the river from filling up with silt— lots of heavy equipment to lay a concrete carpet on the floor of the river. Interesting, but no more time. Back to the ship to catch our next bus!
Off we went to fight the Battle of Vicksburg! It took nearly an hour to get there and then another slow one hour to tour around the park. This was definitely a battlefield to see. Imagine tightly rolling hills and valleys, one after another, divided by stands of trees. Amazing to think that they could call those hillocks “forts”. A fun fact was that in 1906 the park committee called all Civil War veterans to come back to the battlegrounds and tell their stories. The result is the most accurate recreation of what really happened here.
It almost made me laugh when we rolled up to the final stop on the tour. The U.S.S. Cairo, an ironclad, is right there in the battlefield and open for touring. It was amazingly real but so strange to see a ship surrounded by grass! The only reason this ship survived the war is because it sank in 36’ of water. The resurrection came 100 years later and in pieces, but they’ve put it back together and it’s awesome.
We had dinner with our two gay and wonderful dinner partners and now have added the gay judge, an amazing man both in philosophy and in world travels. We’re having a good time. Good night.
Mississippi River Day 9: 4-8-22 Greenville and Beyond
John and I like to get the most out of every opportunity. Today, however, we were going to have to make a choice. The boat wasn’t supposed to dock until noon, just when our excursion started. That meant that we couldn’t do the hop on hop off bus as we’d been doing other days. I thought I might rather see the Greenville Writers History Museum (complete with Shelby Foote and Walker Percy), and the Hebrew Union Temple rather than what was scheduled by bus, but John decided we shouldn’t change the plan.
When the ship docked early, John and I grabbed our cameras and headed for the gangplank hoping to walk the bus route and have the complete experience. Indeed, we were the first off the ship, ready to walk around the town and soak up all the local charm. Sadly, the town had a lot of “former charm.” We walked down weedy sidewalks connected to weedy lawns, attached to ramshackle homes. Greenville was a poor and deserted little berg. Down on Main Street, we found the tourist landmarks (all marvelous), but could only peek in the windows. Despite the fact that this was Saturday morning, nothing was open. We heard later that when the tour buses started at noon all the landmarks including Temple with the gift shop selling “Shalom y’all” tee shirts, the EE. Bass Cultural Arts Center with the carousel horses and the literary museum with a tiny display of first editions opened.
We missed all of that to be on another bus heading for Indianola, Mississippi where the great B.B. King got his start. The museum there was our excursion of the day, a humble brick building until we stepped foot inside. We were greeted with live music from two gospel singers who traded lead and backup, one playing trombone, the other playing tambourine. It was a lot of fun! Then came the museum tour which was one of the best we’ve seen all trip. Just like the National WWII Museum, the BB King Museum had video histories with interviews and photos, lots of beautifully displayed artifacts, and the whole rags-to-riches story of Riley B. King. The story shows how tough the South was then and how much difference the beginnings of the first African American radio station made to a hardworking musician’s ambition. WDIA was where King got the reputation of being a “blues boy” which created his nickname B.B. There were a lot of good people in his life and his religious upbringing had taught him to do the right thing—mostly. (No talk of his love life, however.) The live music followed us to a catfish lunch with slaw and fries, and talk about another local delicacy, hot tamales!
On the way back, we stopped by The Ebony Club to take pictures. Then back to the boat for “all aboard.” I stopped into the Grand Saloon show of Broadway musicals— just wonderful. Everything from Chicago to Cats… At dinner, we all loved Judge Harley’s story about being served too much gin in a New Orleans bar (many years ago) and drinking it all before deciding that he needed to see the church down the road. When he stood up, he realized that he really had had too much and was so grateful that he was far from home and that no one would notice him staggering down the road. Just outside the bar, as the world was spinning and he was deciding which way to go, he heard a happy cry, “Harvey!” It was his parents’ friends, greeting him with all kinds of glee to which he could only respond, “Pshplybth!” More questions. “Bspleeth.” And where are you staying, “The Respesth.” They looked surprised, then nodded and went on their way. He braced himself against the building until they were out of sight but expected a great commotion when he returned home. Luckily, nothing was ever said. Apparently, Southern gentility extends to judges. Good night.
Mississippi River Day 10: 4-10-22 Day on the River
Today, was a day of walking the boat, bow to stern, around the rails and up and down every staircase. It was actually yesterday when I photographed the stacks coming down to go under a bridge, but it happened again today. We also visited the engine room for a long look at the pistons, then hurried by the mist spun up by the paddles. The whole ship is a wonderful piece of efficiency. I spent some of my walking time today photographing the fabulous paintings of steamboats that hang on all the walls and make this feel like an elegant ship from a lost millennium. many of the lamps are Tiffany-style or have fringed shades. The wooden bookcases in the Mark Twain room are full of books and sculptures. It’s just lovely.
We went to our shipboard Mark Twain’s last talk today. John had him sign his copy of “Life on the Mississippi.” Later, we came in last in the “Name that tune” trivia contest— unfair choices! Our big moments were managing to correctly name a Hoagie Carmichael, a Michael Jackson, a Carpenters, and two Judy Garland tunes, but sadly (hanging our heads low), that was not enough to beat the woman from the Midwest who cheerfully reported 19/20 correct.
Today was a day for just looking at the river. I did three watercolors of my view of the water, the trees, and the shore, each reflecting slightly different lighting. John spent a lot of time doing in-depth research of every place we’ve been. He’s ready to write the tour book or a complete history of the area, he thinks. It’s been a very pleasant and relaxing day.
Now is a good time to talk about food on the trip. Everything has been spectacular but made more so because Benji, one of the guys we were dining with is a foodie. He is also very southern and very funny. Since our dinner wasn’t until 8 pm, every day he starts off by reporting what was served that day at the 5 pm buffet at the “Front Porch.” Talking in a slow drawl, he says, “I just got me just a thin slice of prime rib up there and a sugar-free cookie. Just enough to hold me over ‘till dinner, ya know.” And then he smiles as he always does when talking about either food or furniture!
Our food experience in the dining room included: scallops, duck, lobster tail, shrimp linguine, pork loin, and lamb chops. They offered Cesar salad, wilted salad, beet salad, and more. Every day the menu changed and every day we were amazed. Deserts included: pies, cakes, ice cream, sorbets, crème brûlée , and cherries jubilee. They also offered sugar-free options. And the other partner at our table was Don, our very tall waiter. One night, when we were just having a salad dinner, Don came up to me with a lovely shrimp dish and explained that it was extra and did I want it. I said, no, I’d already eaten. He wandered off but was soon back with the same dish asking if I could please take it so he wouldn’t get in trouble. I spent the rest of the meal, stirring the shrimp so they would somehow look eaten. Then I gently put my dessert plate on top of the whole entry to hide it. He was grateful for the rest of the trip. Later, we found out that he’d only been on the ship for eight days, so far!
Drinks were free throughout the cruise, but with the extra liquor package, we could have a choice of better wines, scotches, or novelty drinks at no additional charge. John and I don’t drink enough to make that work, but every day, I took advantage of the open bar to order one exotic drink for John. He had a tequila sunrise, a rum punch, a margarita, an original drink called a Cupid, and a drink without a name. John had requested a hurricane, but when I put in my order, the bartender apologized because she didn’t have any more pineapple juice. She then created a drink on the spot and as she was giving me the glass, said that without the pineapple juice, it wasn’t a true hurricane. Then she thought about it. “Call it a bad storm instead,” she said! Creative and tasty.
Our last dinner lasted until they kicked us out—again! What a fun group! We’re going to miss our happy little party. Good night.
Mississippi River Day 11: 4-11-22 Memphis and the King(s), the last day…
Note: My brother and my husband gave me a stern talking to. So please make this correction from a few days ago: Our delightful dining partners were three single men, two of whom are best friends. The third is a federal judge with a great sense of humor!
We left our luggage outside our room at 11 pm last night. This morning, we woke up at 6 am and quickly packed up the few remaining things into our carry-ons. Then we were ready for a big day ahead— Graceland!
Our big bus rolled up to the curling gates of the fine home. Considering the plantation homes and city mansions we’ve visited, this house seemed spacious but not excessive in size. Elvis bought it early on so he could move his parents out of their humble abode. The furnishings were the thing in this house and just the idea that he had lived here. Really, this is a tour for adoring fans who want to see the Jungle Room (complete with an indoor waterfall, tiki sculptures, and a carpeted ceiling, and the famous basement TV room with a huge sofa all decorated in black and yellow. He included three TVs side by side because he’d learned that LBJ had three TVs on simultaneously to watch multiple news programs at once. Appropriately, Elvis also had a movie screen that pulled down and a hidden projector. It looked like a fun party house— with an upholstered pool room too!
When he died, he was buried at the local cemetery, but because of his fame and the rumor that he’d been interred with $250 thousand dollars of jewelry, his father didn’t think his grave was safe. He asked for permission to have the remains moved to Graceland. This meant declaring an area of the property as a licensed cemetery, which it is. The Meditation Garden now has four graves and a plaque for Elvis’ twin brother who was stillborn. The other graves are for his parents and his grandmother. And because it is a cemetery, it has to be opened to the public for at least one hour a week, Fridays from 7-8 am.
We toured the cars and saw the Rolls Phantom V and the Silver Cloud. Still like new. Another nice exhibit was the Hall of Influencers. Life-size statues of other musicians who were inspired by Elvis filled this fall and contained everyone from Dolly Parton to Jimi Hendrix. Pretty cool connections there.
After Graceland, our guide took the whole huge bus (with just 16 people aboard) on a driving/walking tour of Beale Street. Our guide was good. He took us to the Elvis statue and told the story of the statue being removed for repairs. During its absence, our guide happened by, and took the opportunity to jump up on the plinth and pose for pictures as the new Elvis! (When police happened by, he was asked never to come to Beale Street again. Some years have passed, and he’s grown a beard, so he thinks he won’t be noticed!) We saw lots of fun neon signs for rocking food and music stores. Lansky’s, the store that poor, young Elvis visited so often, had once been on Beale Street. When Elvis made it big, he repaid Lansky by moving his store inside the Peabody Hotel. We saw the FedEx Stadium and the Rock and Soul Museum, but no time to go inside.
The plan was to stay on the bus until it came back to the Sheraton. There, we were assured that we could leave our luggage for a few hours and see the rest of the town, then catch a cab to the airport. Our fabulous bus driver had a better idea, drop our luggage at the famous Peabody Hotel, walk down to Beale Street, toodle around, and then back to the hotel where we could catch a cab to the airport. It worked perfectly. We started with a lovely lunch at the Peabody and ended by taking pictures of the ducks swimming in the indoor fountain. The 5 pm duck-parade was truly an experience as ducks match across the foyer—would happen after we left, but we saw them. First, we needed to take a photo of the W.C. Handy statue in Handy Park and actually visit the fabulous Rock and Soul Museum, both of which we did!
This trip has been even more a tour of musical history than Civil War history. Music is such a huge part of the formation of the delta and the crying out of souls as they suffer and try to get along together. This museum took us from the poorest beginnings with mules pulling plows while workers followed along in time, humming and crying the blues to the fun of songs with goofy lyrics about cows and heartache, on to dance music, radio (WDIA, the first Black radio station) and finally to great financial success with recordings and music tours. The whole museum is set up like a traditional golf course, 9 out and 9 back. We went from room to room all the way to the back of the building, then turned the corner and came back to the gift shop and exit. It was compact and told a clear story. Apparently, organizers from the Smithsonian helped with the set-up which is why this museum does such a great job in such a limited space. (Once again, I think of that African American museum in Natchez and how much they could benefit from a few glass cases, some video recordings, and a one-million-dollar donation!)
Our taxi driver continued the tour as we drove to the airport. I was impressed with his disappointment that we hadn’t made it to the Civil Rights Museum and his nod to our efforts to seek out the musical history of the city. Memphis is a good city named after an ancient city on the Nile, and a fitting name for a city that preserves its history even as it tries to improve its future.
We caught our plane right on time. Easy flight home. Good night.