04-10-11 - You’re the son of your father

04-10-11
You’re the son of your father, try a little bit harder…
241 miles
I get packed and on the way by 9am, happy be be driving with relative quiet. Ok, I’m listening to an audio book about a Irish hitman. But even he has more manners and respect for quite times then that kid did. (OK…who’s the adult here…count to ten…)
So I’m traipsing down the Trace and my warning light “Engine service soon” starts flashing (Instead of just being ON all the time) so I pull off at the Pharr Mounds burial ground site. Good for me, good for Mischa and good for the car (I was about a quart low). Back to go into Tupelo and take pictures of Elvis’s home and then head off to My Father’s childhood home - Clarksdale, Ms. - The Crossroads - Highway 61 (revisited - for the first time) Morgan Freeman’s Blues Club - The Newspaper My dad’s Stepfather was editor at, and my grandmother too. And her Burial place. Dripping with personal history.
But first - The King!
Not much more impressive than W.C.Handy’s place (and rightly so) but they’ve gaudied it up with a visitor center and a chapel and god knows what else. I snap a few pictures from the car and head off.
Old town Tupelo is impressive in it’s old time look. Good for them. The old buildings still stand in the downtown area.
On to highway 6. It’s a long drive and I stop off for a wifi break in Oxford - home of “Old Miss”.
Can’t get much luck with the reception so I head off to Batesville. I crossed the Tallahatchie River and yell “Billy Joe - Don’t Do it!” Hah, I didn’t really…but I thought it! I pass Barksdale (the blues capitol of bloodhounds?) and on to Clarksdale. I get to the junction where the 6 meets the 61 and take it south - talking pictures at every place where I imagine “THE” Crossroads might have been.
I go up and ask where I might find the Town Newspaper and they don’t know at the gas station. I get gas and follow the signs to the old downtown area. This is even more “Old Town” than Tupelo! It seem to be in a mixed state between being run down and rejuvenated. I find the Old Depot and pass by Morgan Freeman’s Blues Club. But Can’t find anything I’m searching for or anyone to talk to. I stop at another gas station in town and ask the clerks there. (Side note - not really important, but I’m firmly in the minority here. The 2000 census lists: The racial makeup of the city was 68.52% African American, 29.95% White, 0.58% Asian, 0.11% Native American, 0.01% Pacific Islander, 0.22% from other races, and 0.60% from two or more races. Hispanic or Latino of any race were 0.65% of the population.)
I sak them where the newspaper is and where I might find the cemetery. Every day kinda questions.
I get directions and look for the newspaper (no luck) and find the cemetery (locked up) It is a Sunday, after all. Drat. I saw a big grave marker with the name “CLARK” on it and am sure this this is the right cemetery. I know I won’t get in until later in the week as well.
I drive back to the area where the newspaper was supposed to be and see an impressive building that had once been the Bank of Clarksdale but now says “Jacksonville Journal”. I’m a little confused why the Jacksonville newpaper has a branch up here, but…
And across the street - The Clarksdale Press - Register!
Closed of course.
But I know where to find it!
I drive back to my friends at the gas station and get a 32 oz refill for .27c and ask about the old Clark Family home.
I finally get general directions and follow them.
Not exactly correct…but they lead me to where I need to go.
A block further.
There’s something that looks like it might have been on old High School. (Did my dad go there and graduate in 1937?) And right next door.
What used to be the old Clark family house.
Now, I don’t know if my father ever lived there or not. There were a lot of Clark siblings and relatives in the town when my dad was growing up, and while my dad’s stepfather was the newspaper editor, he may not have been the families “big mover and shaker”.
I hope to find more when I go back this week.
At this point I’m looking for a Walmart and wifi. I get directions to the south-western edge of town.
I get a Net-Ten phone. Try to get it activated. (I’m still trying to get it activated...)
I go McInternet till I’m seeing daylight starting to run out. Time to move.
I head out of town but decide to take a different route out\…and as I do, I notice a traffic island that I passed by on the way in, but was looking at the blues festival sign for this weekend on the billboard opposite. “The Crossroads”.
Excellent.
(Rest you well, Robert Johnson!)
I head back to Batesville. Take another [picture of the Tallahatchie Bridge (from the side where the sign shows “Tallahatchie River”) and continue.
Trying to figure out where I’ll spend the night.
With my resources shrinking again, I choose a place called “Plum Point” It’s a “Corp of Engineers” site and only casts $6!
I drive out to Enid lake and realize I’ve been following directions to a different part of the Enid Lake campgrounds. The sun is setting and I’m racing it. I get to the point and it’s a beautiful WINDY place. And I’m the only one there. I’m exhausted and get the tent up. Then someone drives by and stops…for about 15 minutes. Then takes off. I didn’t need that.
It happens again (someone else) about an hour or so later. I’m in the tent at this time and wake to see his tail lights as he (she) starts the engine and slowly drives away. I feel for the rubber mallet with the little hook end on it to make sure it’s in reach.
I’m really tired. Putting the tent up even in the blowing winds was sweaty business and I got another dizzy spell and had to sit for a bit on the park bench before continuing. But it all goe done.
And now around midnight, the wind is blowing.
And it’s a fare wind, blowing warm out of the south over my shoulder…guess I’ll say goodnight and go…
To sleep.