Arriving in Tennessee almost at the moment that the autumn color was about to emerge represents probably the greatest unintended and certainly the most welcomed consequence of this trip. 

This seasonal saturation of color is something that many Californians quietly envy.  There is good reason.  It warms you to your core.  And it doesn’t stop at the colors.  After enduring 5 states of iceberg lettuce*, I find myself awash in a sea of rich vegetables prepared in the most decadent and heart stopping ways.

* Lettuce clarification – After consuming more iceberg lettuce (or, as I like to call it, crunchy water) in the past month than I have eaten in my entire adult life, I ordered a Caesar salad at the first restaurant that offered one.  My hopes crushed when the waitress placed a bowl of iceberg lettuce with Caesar dressing and a packet of Parmesan cheese on the side in front of me.  I miss home.

My time in West Memphis was amazing.  On my first day, Debra Rieves had introduced me to Dixie and Ralph Carlson.

Theirs is a remarkable story.  Married for 60 years this coming April, they are first generation farmers who purchased 320 acres at the age of 19 producing cotton, soybeans and oats.  Along with Ralph’s brothers, they built that farm into more than a 25,000 acre enterprise in three states.  In 1966, they succesfully obtained a charter to start the first community bank in Crittenden county.  Along the way, they raised 4 children, Ralph won 3 gold medals for tennis in the Senior Olympics and Dixie became a master gardener.  More, Dixie is an elected State delegate for the Republican Party and attended this year’s convention.  She also serves as a State Commissioner on the Keep Arkansas Beautiful Commission and on the County Election Commission.

Dixie and Ralph graciously opened their home and their hearts in the greatest southern tradition. 

Dixie and Ralph Carlson

It is no accident that our most poignant moments happen when we least expect them.

Yesterday, facing limited time and a plethora of tourist options, from Graceland to the ducks that stroll through the lobby of the Peabody Hotel, I set out by bus to see Memphis.

Let me start my stating clearly that, unlike my hero Sarah Vowel, I am not enamored of historic assassination sites.  My inclinations are toward places of achievement (Monticello), accomplishment (Independence Hall, Philadelphia) or beauty (Taj Mahal).  Assassination.  Not so much.

And so it was that, as my bus turned the corner on a nondescript street in Memphis and the familiar motel came into sight, my reaction was unexpected.

I was not quite 10 years old when Martin Luther King was assassinated at the Lorraine Motel.  Though I would have to wait several years to grasp the significance and full weight of this national loss, it strikes me today that it may be impossible to really conceive.  The car that Reverend King was driving that day is parked, timelessly, and the site is maintained so meticulously that, for a moment, you are there.

And while I can study the history and the context, the full measure of that single event is impossible to grasp.  I left feeling very small.

The next day, I reconnected with Debra Rieves.  Debra was the first person that I met here in West Memphis and, as you will hear, it was a blessing and a joy.  She is a walking testament to southern hospitality and a delightful force of nature.  What I did not know was the significance of this moment in her life. 

Debra Rieves

I left feeling very moved.

I arrived in this magical city of BB King and the allure of its history and great food seduced me into a day of playing tourist.  Tomorrow will be a rainy day here in Memphis, so I promise to post early.   Wishing you all a wonderful end to your week!