9:31 a.m. - 2004-04-21
Memphis
I'm on the banks of the Mississippi. It's hot and dusty and I'm leaning against a tree. In the distance an old black man is wailing on a beat up guitar. He catches my eye, nods, and starts to play an old Son House tune. It's "Death Letter Blues", and it's a favorite of mine.
It's a perfect Memphis afternoon.
*******************************
I'm lying. That's not what Memphis was like at all, except in my fantasy. Nope.
I didn't get near the Mississippi. In fact, I didn't get near most of Memphis. I spent 90% of the trip holed up in the University of Memphis Library, looking at art books.
It was perfect. It was exactly what I wanted. It was one of the most lovely library experiences I've ever had.
When I got there on Thursday afternoon, the power had gone out. I was greeted by an exasperated library lady who had already been harrassed too many times about the computers being down.
"There are no computers!!" she said, looking defensive and angry. "None!! We have no back up generators for the computers!!"
"But I don't want computers! I want books!"
She looked puzzled. Someone wanting books?! Was I sure I didn't want the computers?
I was sure. Very sure. Her puzzlement turned to a smile. "Art books? Fourth floor! There might be enough light if you sit near the windows!"
The fourth floor, reachable by some scary stairs, did, indeed have enough light, and beautiful views out over the campus. I went through the stacks of books pulling out everything that looked even remotely interesting. Books on Darger, Hundertwasser (beautiful little book about his boat, the Regentag), the Bauhaus weavers, Itten, Moore, endless outsider artists.
Tons of books about drawing. I dragged them all over to a spot next to a window and lost myself for hours.
And the light was perfect. It was bright without being glaring. And no one else was around. I was glad the power was out.
Sigh. It was just what I needed.
When I went back the next day, the books hadn't been reshelved, so I just started back where I had left off. All my plans of trying to see the art museum or the metal sculpture museum were forgotten.
I love libraries. Once I get in them I can't tear myself away.
**********************
We did get to Beale Street. The conference Bruce was at had a banquet at the Gibson guitar factory. After we ate the strangest assortment of buffet food I've ever had (spaghetti, potato salad, coleslaw, barbeque, baked beans. I think the "what's wrong with this picture?" was the spaghetti.) we went through the Gibson "museum", which is basically a bunch of photos of musicians associated with Stax and Sun, mingled with old washboards and farm tools and one of Minnie Pearls dresses.
The highlight was sadly, the gift shop, which had some killer CD's. Did you know you can get the entire Stax catalogue for $39.99? Bruce was drooling.
"We can blow some money!" he blithered, frothing at the mouth. "Really! I mean, we NEED these CD's!!"
In the end we pulled outselves together, bought just a couple of CD's that we NEEDED, and wandered over to Beale for Elvis impersonators, Brown Sugar and some storebought hoodoo.
2 comments
