Jeff and I decided to get away for Memorial Day weekend in a way that would hopefully be fun for both of us and not too exhausting for me. We left after work on Friday afternoon and drove toward Henderson, TN to try Bell’s Drive-in, which we had heard was a great place to eat. It’s a mainstay of the Freed-Hardeman experience and is a throwback to a simpler time. The burgers and fries were great, but the chocolate shake was next level. Jeff’s eyes practically went back in his head at the first sip, and he had the whole thing finished in under 3 minutes. I nursed mine to make it last at least until we were down the road a bit.

We stayed the night in Corinth, MS, and Saturday morning crossed back into Tennessee to visit Shiloh National Battlefield and Cemetery. The day began with a short film detailing the lives of particular participants in the battle of Shiloh in much the same vein as Ken Burns’ Civil War documentary. This is the battle that took the life of the highest ranking officer in the war, General Albert Sidney Johnston of the Confederacy. It also had some of the fiercest fighting of the war, with fortunes going back and forth between Johnston / Beauregard’s army and Grant’s over the two days in early April of 1862. We learned of the horrific casualty rate in the Mississippi ranks, as well as the rout of an Indiana regiment. After the film, we stopped by some living history booths set up at the visitors’ center, where artifacts from the American Revolution through World War II were on display, with docents describing what they were and even demonstrating some of the items, such as a “member” of a Scottish regiment playing the bagpipes taken into battle against the Patriots. As we took in the graves of the soldiers buried at the Cemetery, the silence was broken only by the cooing of doves, and then by the Scotsman playing “Amazing Grace.” I teared up a bit thinking how these men and boys left loved ones at home, never to see them again. I started to tire at this point, and after resting on a bench for a few minutes, we decided to tour the rest of the battlefield by car. I was very impressed by how well thought out the path and signage was, and despite the many loops and crossings, we never got lost. The main thing I noticed about the monuments was that there were no scenes of glorious war. Instead, there were scenes of dying men and mourning mothers. The people who actually experienced battle had no illusions of the honor in it. They saw it as a nightmare and madness.

It was lunch time now, and there were two burger joints on our list of places to try. The first was in Corinth, called Borroum’s Drug Store, a vestige of old-fashioned eating in that they have a soda fountain. We intended to just get a milkshake from the fountain and then drive on to Tupelo for the next burger joint to actually eat. However, Borroum’s was so thoroughly crowded, we just turned around and decided to get both lunch and dessert at Johnnie’s Drive-in, where Elvis had eaten as a kid. Alas, Johnnie’s crew must have taken the weekend off, because it was closed when we got there. So no more diner meals for us, and we went to Lost Pizza Company instead, which I think Jeff preferred anyway. It was good pizza, though I’m not able to enjoy it like I used to.

We finished our Saturday at Elvis’s birthplace. It is far less touristy, and, frankly, far less tacky than Graceland. There was more of a calm here, and a reflection on who Elvis was before he was Elvis. The information focused on his family life, his friends, and his religion far more than his legacy as an entertainer. Here, Elvis was a person, not a personality. We were there in time for a church “service” at the very building where Elvis attended as a child, where he first sang in front of other people, and where he learned the old-time hymns that still give comfort to us today. The docent was very animated, and tried to get people to sing along with the 15 minute immersive dramatization of a typical service. It felt like Jeff, I, the docent, and maybe a couple of other people were the only ones who knew any of the words. It was a little sad to see the vacant faces of those around us not having any idea of what was going on.

We were also able to go inside the house where Elvis was born. It is a tiny two-room shotgun home that Vernon Presley built himself. Desperately poor during the Great Depression, Vernon went to prison for eight months for forging a $4 check. In that time, Gladys was unable to make payments on the house, and so the Presleys had to sell all their furniture and move. The furnishings that are there today are merely of the time period, but Vernon helped with the placement when the museum first started to make it look as close as possible to what it was back then. Gladys actually gave birth to Elvis and his stillborn brother in the front room, and the delivery was so difficult, she was not able to have any more children. While Elvis was close with both of his parents, Gladys absolutely doted on him, which made it even more sad that she died while he was in the Army and not there with her.

Having stayed in New Albany, MS, we attended Sunday services with the congregation at New Albany Church of Christ. They were a very friendly bunch, and even invited us to stay for a fellowship meal in honor of their youth minister who was leaving for another position. But we had to get on the road because we wanted to try to get to Memphis in time to see either Graceland or the National Civil Rights Museum. We got to see neither. After finding a Lenny’s sub shop (Jeff’s favorite, though this one didn’t live up to the memory), we drove to a mural of Tina Turner and Elvis, and then to the Lorraine Hotel, It was so incredibly crowded, we decided to try to get into Graceland. That was even worse, with the line to get into the parking lot spilling out onto the main road for quite a while. As a last resort, we went to Sun Record Studio, and were lucky to find a place to park. It was mostly a gift shop, but the tour was a fast introduction to the history of Sam Phillips’ brainchild with Marion Keisker. Sun Studio began as Memphis Recording Service, and would have remained a side project of a couple of sound engineers if they had not decided to make a label of their own to stop losing talent to bigger companies. Marion Keisker actually recorded Elvis first, tried to get her boss sold on the “good ballad singer,” but had to wait over a year for Sam to finally break down and have Elvis in to sing again. Given a selection of pop songs, which Sam hated, Elvis nearly didn’t get a contract until, during a smoke break, he broke into a bit of a bluesy rendition of “That’s All Right, Mama,” and Sam perked up and knew he had a hit on his hands. My favorite part was actually in the studio where so many greats have recorded, and I got a picture of Jeff on the piano in front of the famous “Million Dollar Quartet” picture with Jerry Lee Lewis, Carl Perkins, Elvis, and Johnny Cash. What a jam session that must have been.

I was thoroughly pooped now, so we went to our hotel in Collierville to rest until supper. I hate to send Jeff out to get food to bring back to the hotel when I know he’d rather eat inside the restaurant, so I mustered myself to go with him to Collierville Commissary, a second location of the locally famous Germantown Commissary. That place smelled amazing with the meat smoking somewhere in the back. We both got pulled pork sandwiches and came away with full bellies and souvenir plastic cups.

That night, we had a decision to make, as we would only have time for one more activity on Monday. Given that this would be Memorial Day, we went with the more somber option. Jeff bought tickets online for the opening time at the National Civil Rights Museum. This was one of the most well-done museums I’ve been to. From video presentations to exhibit information to items in the collection, everything was put together so well. It began with the Transatlantic slave trade, with a display of the typical ship conditions, went through how slavery was the bedrock of American economy for nearly 200 years, then through the turbulent 50s, 60s, and 70s, culminating with a view of Room 306, where Martin Luther King, Jr. stayed before he was shot on the balcony. It was really emotional for me, and it’s still so hard to understand why it’s so difficult for society to treat each other with decency. I can’t help thinking of Dr. King’s last social cause, improving the lives of the poor and addressing the wage gap in America, and wondering at the heartbreak he might feel just looking at the neighborhoods surrounding the museum. How discouraging it would be to know of the abject poverty that still exists in the richest country on Earth, poverty that leads to bars on every store window, poverty that leads to a waif of a woman so intoxicated she walks in the middle of the road toward our oncoming car, poverty that leads to ignorance, hatred, and cruelty. I’m haunted by his almost prescient statement that he “may not get there with you,” and wonder if he had lived, would we still be so divided among the races, among the socio-economic classes, and among political beliefs. He told his friends that he did not want a long eulogy at his funeral. All he wanted said was that he tried to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, and visit the sick and those in prison — in short, he tried to do God’s will. I don’t think there’s anything better that could be said of someone.

The last stop on the way home was a pretty good bit out of the way, but Jeff wanted to honor the late Tina Turner by going to Nutbush, TN, her childhood home. It really is just a wide spot in the road, but there was at least one other group of people there to get a picture of the Nutbush sign as well. We got home at around 5:30 and were in bed by 7:30. We’re old!