04-13-11 Room To Move

04-13-11
I can’t give my best unless I got room to move
121.7 miles
I get up and breakdown the campsite I bring a few of the things down to the car to pack up. I’m going to do a major re-packing today to try to make things more efficient, easier to access.
But Mischa is feeling her oats today. Rachael Maddow described the effect as “Frapping” sudden bursts of energy from a dog continuing until they wear them selves (and anyone near them) down. She is scampering across the parking area, biting the leash and pulling it as she runs; turning to me and flailing both forepaws on the ground, haunches in coiled spring position daring me to make a move and play/chase her. We cavort for about 5 minutes (or more Mischa than I. “I” haven’t been “frapped” like she has…but it makes my heart soar. I’d been worried about her recently. I picked her up one day and she seemed “lite”. I used to be able to put my finger between her neck and her collar, now I can put the whole flat of my hand through. I’m hoping I had adjusted it looser and just forgot, but I don’t really think so. There is always food for her to eat, but she doesn’t seem to eat that much. Maybe the recent frequent weather changes and rain have caused her nervous weight loss. Or the sleeping in Truck Stops and not getting to sleep early is a factor. Her spirit seem whole, but the weight has me worried. And I have not money for a vet. I can jut keep feeding her and hope she’ll retain weight.
Car repacked I head to Batesville and check “the news” to see which way I may be going. I’m pretty sure base on my funds (or lack of them) but want to check my options.
I’m given the opportunity to meet a Facebook friend up near Memphis in the evening, but have to decline. I have money to go back to Clarksdale and see what I can find about my Grandmother and my Father and any possible relations as well as some of the blues links I can discover there. I send my regrets north and head west. I get to Clarksdale and as I come into town and head up DeSoto street there is a major accident blocking the road. A vehicle had hit a tree and is over on it’s roof, Ambulance loading the driver and police directing traffic on the two land street and out of the Sonic drive thru just across from the crash. I get thru and head first to the funeral home I was told might have access to the Grange cemetery that I know my grandmother is buried at.. I enter and and a Mrs Howell helps me out. I learn fast that people don’t “get around to it quick” in conversations in the south. There is much deliberation and commentary on a subject. Most of it is a combination (for me) of frustration and fascination. I’m frustrated by my natural inclination to get out there and look for my grandmother’s grave, take some snapshots and move on to the next thing to discover.
The fascination is how connected she is to everything and what I’m discovering in the course of the process. Her son, Billy is involved in operating the “Belle Clark” House - the Clark family home. (Not My family’s home - that’s just down the street. I learn that a woman who was corresponding with my sister’s mother-in-law and a Clark family member who knew my father and grandmother is a friend of Mrs. Howell and she calls her up. The woman doesn’t remember the correspondence (It was from 2005!), but her husband, George, who used to be a mailman in the town comes over because he knows where those graves are in the cemetery. It turns out that his Aunt was married to my father’s half-brother (my uncle) Guy Jr.! (This is kind of who these conversations go. A lot of interrelated detail - and gossip)
Geoorge comes over and is kind enough to take me (and Mischa) over to the cemetery. On the way we pass by an old theater called The Roxy with a placard/sign outside that is dedicated to Sam Cooke. I make a note to return to get a picture later. We get to the cemetery and go to where the main Clark family plot is. She’s not there. But George knows another location. Over by the old Oak tree. And there she is, with her husband and son and his wife. I take the pictures. George is seeing his aunt’s headstone for the first time. It wasn’t on the site originally. I’ve also learned that they never had children of their own but had adopted 4 children from Ireland and that the boy (Guy III) had just recently died and was buried ther somewhere as well. The boss of the funeral home was sure “I dug the hole myself”, he said!
A man has been using a weedwacker the whole time we’ve been there and stops, walks over and introduces himself. “I’m Richard” he said. George and I introduce ourselves. Richard & George know each other already. Of course they do. What was I thinking. George had been Richards mailman for many years. The talk get to why I‘m there, do I know about a newsletter? To cemetery upkeep and who pays the bills; things found in the cemetery you wouldn't believe and a few dozen other topics. I‘ve learned that‘s the way of communication here. The edges of the circle to the center, no straight line. Everything gets covered that needs be, but at a different pace. It is organic. But it is a learned thing, not something you could adopt on the spot. Plus it takes a good deal of history to participate. I lacked that. You learn by listening till your can jump in. Organic.
Our time in the cemetery is over and we start to head back and I ask about the High School my dad would have gone to. He takes me by. He went there himself…from elementary to High School…all in less than a block. What he’s telling me is gold so I ask to interview him on the spot. He kindly agrees. Some really good stuff.
We head back and he agrees to take me by the house where my Father grew up. At least the address. The original house had obviously been replaced with one of more modern make. But that was where he grew up.
I take a few shots and then it’s back to the funeral home. Remember, this started (about 3 hours earlier) at the funeral home?! I saw goodby to George who takes my email and says he’ll send me more information if he comes across it, (Like contact information on the adopted daughter of my uncle who still live in town.) and keeps mentioning things that would go great in context with my book. I keep trying to catch his comments on the fly. Maybe I’m 50% successful. It all found gold.
I head off to check at the court house to see if there are any records of my father’s adoption. George gives me the name of the person to see.
As I drive there I go a block too far east and it works out great, I drive by the Belle Clark and just as I’m getting out, Mrs. Howell’s son, Billy is coming our. I explain who I am and the connection to the house and the Clarks. He get’s it in one. He can speak “west coast”. In fact, so much so, that he leave me in the dust. (he IS younger). He says that he’s behind and has to much to do with the upcoming Juke Joint Festival this Saturday, but give me his card, apologizes for having to leave and tells me to call him. (VERY west coast!) I say I will.
I go to the Chancery office at the court house. No Joy. I don’t have anything to PROVE, my father is my father. But they Can (and do) check to see if a record exists (it didn’t). So the mystery continues. I also checked at the marriage records office. My grandmother and step-grandfather never took out a marriage license in Cohoma County. I’m speculating that They got married someplace else…like Memphis (maybe at the Peabody Hotel, that would have been a swank place for a marriage!) and may have arranged for the adoption at the same time. The search will continue.
I head next to the library. A woman I met on Sunday’s visit was a librarian there and seemed just the person to talk to.
She was off.
I got little useful information other than from one book that had mentioned that my father and his brother briefly worked with their mother running the paper back in 1939.. New Years eve 1940, my father joined the Army Air Corp and said goodbye to Clarkesdale.
My family research wrapped up for the day (it was getting on 4:30 )
I sought out some McInternet. I spent most of the time trying to solicit funds to continue the journey. I also looked to see if ther were any camping sites close to Clarksdale so I wouldn’t have to use so much gas and be able to continue in Clarksdale another day. No luck. I could go down to Rosedale (take my Mischa by my side) but that was about as far as Batesville and an unknown quantity. I could try to drive back to Bynam Creek in the dark. But I’m thinking another night in front of the Loves Truck Stop is what we have to do.
As I drive out of Clarksdale, I pass by a gas station with gas for 3.54! (Everything is 3.69 now!) I get $10 worth.
I drive to Love’s and start the long night’s vigil. I get friend acceptance from both Billy & George and one response to my support quarry. I have a little hope. If it can get to me tomorrow. I check my two active debit card balances and realize my US Bank card has not been balancing what I actually charged but a $1.00 “marker” against what I actually charged. So the balance I’ve been working with is actually less.
So the gas I just bought is showing as $1 instead of $10.That’s’ a big problem. I move money from my Paypal acct to US Bank and hope it gets there in time. I estimate I have about $7 left.
I’m exhausted at this time - it’s about 3 am. Mischa is waking up just about the time I’m trying to go to sleep. She won’t let me sleep. I take her out for a walk. I’m exhausted and cranky and pleading for her to “Go to sleep, Misha, Let me go to sleep! I need to sleep!!’
I’m near crying as I’m holding her on my lap in the sidewalk near the side of the building. She still won’t.
We walk around the entire building and she still is hyper. I get her back to the car and start to try to sleep. Still not calming down. I move the car to a slightly darker, different place. In the parking lot I mean. maybe I meant both. I was very tired and cranky. I finally get some sleep.
I wake around 6:30 and am sort of refreshed. I start to writing the last two days worth of posts (I’m woefully behind) and am hoping the offers of help from two sources will reach me in time. (Like today). I’m without resources to move ahead and I can barely move behind. I could go back to Bynam creek and just stay there for an on told number of days and hope something has changed for the better.
“And you're trapped half-way up, you don't want to go back
So you keep going on - compromising the lack”
“I'll be circulating,
Cuz that's the way I am.
You gotta free me
Cuz I can't give the best
Unless I got room to move”