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Travel: Back to Memphis

   Some places belong to our deepest memories. They are the source of the sights and sounds and experiences that define us, that make us the into people we become. Because I was born in the Southeast, less than a day’s drive from Great Smoky Mountain National Park, a place my family particularly loved, Tennessee became that kind of touchstone for me. As a child I camped along Deep Creek, explored Pigeon Forge and Cade’s Cove and looked out the window, staring into the clouds, lost in my thoughts as we drove the winding roads.   

    When I was a teenager my friends and I drove to Nashville for the weekend and we walked to Ernest Tubb’s Music Store to hear the musicians who gathered there late at night to play for the fun of it.

    One fall day when I was in my 20s, I took a single seat on a day-long excursion train to Chattanooga and started talking to a tall man who was there with a couple of friends. We spent the rest of the day together and in a few years we were back again, this time with our children.

    So when I had a chance to return to Memphis recently, a place I hadn’t been since we moved to the Northwest more than a decade ago, I didn’t think twice. The first day, not long after checking into The Peabody Hotel, the grand hotel that has been the heart and center of the city for almost 100 years, I walked down to the lobby to join the crowd around the fountain and the ducks swimming in it. If you don’t know, The Peabody is famous for its ducks. What started as a practical joke has become a treasured tradition and each morning they march single-file down a red carpet to spend the next few hours swimming in the hotel lobby before marching back to the elevator at in the late afternoon.

    The ducks always play to a crowd. Young children were gathered along the red carpet, anxious to have a front-row seat for the duck parade, and I realized my own children must have been about that age when we brought them to Memphis to see this particular show. I thought back on that day, wondering at the speed with which time grabs so many little moments and sweeps them into the corners of our minds, to sit there until we stumble on them again if we’re lucky.
    

   The woman standing beside me told me she comes to the city and to the hotel at least once a year. “I’m like one of these ducks,” she said, laughing and taking a sip of her cocktail. “I keep marching back.”

    After the ducks marched past me and into the elevator that would take them to their rooftop “plantation” I joined a tour of the building offered by an employee.  As he led us from one beautiful room to another he talked about growing up in Memphis and how the hotel has been a vital part of the community for most of its history. And for most of his personal history.
   

    “That’s the thing about this place,” he said, looking around him. “Everywhere you look you see a scene from your past.”

    For the next few days, as I explored a part of the country that used to be so much a part of me,  I said the same thing again and again.

    Memphis is a vibrant city. The music never stops on Beale Street. The food is spicy and delicious. I sat down to a plate of ribs at Charlie Vergos’ Rendezvous and could have spent hours just looking at the memorabilia  on the walls. I joined the crowd at Gus’s World Famous Fried Chicken and savored every bite. I toured Graceland and stood in front of the microphone at the old Sun Records studio. I walked through Soulsville, The Stax Museum of American Soul Music, and listened to the music that was the soundtrack of my youth. And, just as it has forever, the river kept rolling.

    That’s the thing about Memphis, I guess. It was full of the familiar but it held so many new experiences I didn't get around to everything I wanted to do and see.  I should have told the woman in the Peabody lobby to save me a place next year.

       

Cheryl-Anne Millsap is a travel writer based in Spokane, Washington. Her audio essays can be heard on Spokane Public Radio and on public radio stations across the country. She can be reached at catmillsap@gmail.com
       

    
  

Spokane Elvis Impersonator Sings On

I remember the first time I encountered Ben Klein. It was back in 2003, when I was the calendar editor here at The Inlander. He was a baby-faced 20-year-old who looked like he'd been forced into a funny Elvis costume and cajoled into doing a family variety show. Every now and then, an event featuring Ben “Preslee” Klein would come across my desk. I'd snicker every time. So I was surprised when I returned to the paper in 2009 that Klein was still performing as Elvis around town. More than ever, I wondered: what motivates someone to dress up like someone else, act like someone else, sing like someone else. Is impersonation (or as I learned while reporting this story, tributing) the ultimate form of fandom? Or is it just really weird?/Leah Sottile, Inlander. More here. (Photo courtesy Inlander)

Question: If you had the talent to impersonate an entertainment, whom would it be?

DFO’s Critters: Klepto Croc

Elvis, a giant saltwater crocodile swims next to a lawnmower in his pool at the Australian Reptile Park at Gosford, Australia, Wednesday. The 16-foot (5-meter), 1,100-pound crocodile lunged out of its lagoon at a park worker tending to the lawn before stealing his lawn mower. (AP Photo/Libby Bain)

Bachmann: He’s still alive in our hearts

SPARTANBURG, S.C. — Republican presidential candidate Michele Bachmann got her Elvis Presley dates all shook up during a campaign stop today in South Carolina.

The congresswoman from Minnesota played the Elvis tune “Promised Land” at a local restaurant and told the crowd of 300 that she wanted to say happy birthday to the king of rock ‘n’ roll.

“Before we get started, let’s all say happy birthday to Elvis Presley today!” Bachmann said.

But Aug. 16 is the anniversary of Elvis’ death, in 1977, and someone in the crowd shouted back, “He died today!” More here.

Birth dates, death dates, anniversaries, they are all so easy to mix up. Right?

It’s smaller than you’d think

Graceland, Elvis Presley's Tennessee home, opened for public tours on this date in 1982.

I lived in Memphis at the time and was in the Big Brothers/Big Sisters program. So that summer or maybe it was the next, I took the boy with whom I was spending Saturdays to check out the famous house.

I think he was bored. But as I recall, he was polite about it.

Have you been to Graceland?

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