From: Squirrel Squad Squeaks

Hello, Minnesota!

Through careful scientific analysis, we have determined that the population of Minnesota is 3,780. Or, at the very least, that the population of slightly off-center folks at buzz.mn is 3,780.

Today, we got comments on our piece on fried chicken pizza. We get comments, but that piece was written a while back, so we thought it a bit odd. Then our friend and personal wine guru Benito wrote to let us know that we had been mentioned on buzz.mn.

We were mentioned by James Lileks, author of The Gallery of Regrettable Food. I have never expected Ruth Reichl to put our blog in Gourmet, but I had hoped to at least avoid being called regrettable. (I get enough of that from Mama Squirrel.)

It turns out that July 6, 2007 is National Fried Chicken Day. We were mentioned because James Lileks thinks fried chicken pizza is a good idea. And not only were we mentioned, but we were recognized as the official inventors of fried chicken pizza. Patent office here we come!

And in the mean time, hello, Minnesota! You're welcome back anytime. We'll keep the cast iron seasoned just in case anyone wants to drop in for a pizza.

From: The Soundcheck & The Fury

The Brittle Hymn

This is my blog. This is my blog on the Fourth of July. This is a short story about America, set in Kentucky in the long ago.

The soldier was three days gone from the war when he came upon the small river. Pleasant Means was his name. He was spent and weary with bones pleading and his uniform hung dank and muddy from him like some other self. He thought he might see them both in reflection on the small river, but shadows played hell upon the water with what little light of day remained.

Pleasant was a fresh twenty-one and not a fighting man. He was a poet, by nature if nothing else, and out of that poetic nature he sat and watched the water flow. The bend of the river, the crook of the thing. He had been deserting from the Southern side for those three days and some twenty miles and his bones were nearing some riotous brink. His feet were tombstones and he liked to have died but he hadn’t the vigor dying would demand.

It had rained through this day and the better part of the day before and so with each trudge through the woods his boots had picked up more mud and muck and he tried not to think too awfully hard about this in any symbolic way, the mud and muck and this other self dank and heavy upon him.

Pleasant couldn’t help but wonder if the war was coming home with him.

* * *

He rested at the river. His mind cleared and so was at clutter’s mercy. His mind drifted, as minds do. Hearts are heavy and this uniform is deadweight, Pleasant thought, but the mind is a weightless thing; it grows wings and goes to town.

He thought of home and the big river. He thought of a tavern, a taste of whiskey, a fiddle tune about the last flood or the next one. Mostly, he thought of a woman, her sad eyes looking out from under black hair, her salty mouth.

He thought of the folly of the moment, dropped to one knee, sank an inch, it may have been two. He thought the earth ought to just swallow him whole. Anyway, he wouldn’t be welcome at home as a deserter, a coward, a failure at the fine art of shooting strangers where they stood for what they wore, and the woman in question was otherwise engaged.

Can we please, he pleaded, get a little poetic justice here? But the earth wouldn’t have him, just soaked and muddied the knee of his dank, heavy grays.

He lowered his head, clasped his hands; he was in a handy position to pray if he had any praying to do. He closed his eyes and thought about that, gave it a good going-over in his mind, but in the end decided against waking Your Lord.

Pleasant Means was a poet, a heathen, a deserter, a coward, a mother’s son. His bones pleaded and his mind heard tell. He raised his head without opening his eyes, cried out without opening his mouth, heard a twig snap across the way but paid it no mind.

Pleasant was a drinker, a rounder, carouser, a little bit of a fiddle player. He was a weary traveler, something of a sage pilgrim, had an element of damn fool about him, too. He was a man out of time; early or late, he did not know which.

He opened his eyes to the river and the river moved on him. The river was a cracked whip. It was vengeance stretched taut and then gone slack.

He whiled away the day watching it. He aged a decade, became a small child. He blinked and became an old man looking back with aged wisdom too late in coming, a voice to faint to heed. Time was scattered, history strewn. America was a book held by its spine and shook; words leapt from the pages and fell as proclamations and rallying cries, sermons and psalms.

He blinked again and then sat for the longest thinking nothing whatsoever, but the sheer bulk of all that nothingness was too much for him and so he set it aside. He pondered madness and peace of mind and wondered were there three silver coins of difference between the two.

He sighed and it settled him. Time fell in line. Time took to its paces. Time marched like a good soldier. It was dusk, and now came another snap of twig and a crack of knuckles, and from across that small river came a voice.

“Well, if it ain’t my little brother, deserting from the Southern side.”

Jacob Means wore a bemused frown that didn’t clash all that much with his soldier’s blues.

Pleasant raised his head ever so slightly. He nodded. “How you, big brother?” he said.

“Been getting by,” Jacob said. “And you?”

“Just about barely.”

Family pleasantries thus exchanged, gun barrels were raised and aimed.

Posted by David Williams

From: Paul Ryburn's Journal

From the MBJ: Prince Mongo's Planet to be converted into boutique hotel

Friday, July 06, 2007

In this print edition of this week's Memphis Business Journal, there's an article about plans for the space formerly occupied by Prince Mongo's Planet, a nightclub of the 1990s where 14-year-olds could go to get a beer and mingle with belligerent Navy recruits. A developer has a contract on the building and plans to renovate the building (56-60-62 South Front) into an upscale boutique hotel with 34 rooms. It will be called the Grade Hotel. Furthermore, there will be meeting rooms, a restaurant, a coffee shop and a BOOKSTORE(!!!!) on the ground floor. The developer is hoping to attract students from the U of M law school, which will be moving downtown in 2009, as well as students from nearby medical, dental, and optometry schools, to the coffee shop. He hopes to have clean-up crews in the building by September. The hotel's grand opening could happen as little as 18 months from then, with the ground-floor businesses open sooner. Great news for Downtown! Unless you're a freshman in high school and were hoping Mongo's would reopen so you'd have a place to drink.

posted by Paul Ryburn

From: The ChockleyBlogs

Firecracker, Firecracker, Siss Boom Bah

Chip and I have picked up our running efforts of late, mostly because our friend RJA challenged us to run a 5K with him. He's been so happy to be doing so much running that his enthusiasm was contagious. But while Chip and I have enjoyed the running on some level, on others we've found it quite depressing. You know how professional athletes are considered old by the time they hit their mid-30s? Now that I'm there, it totally makes sense. My toe hurts. Chip's knee hurts. Of course my knee hurts. And sometimes my back. And maybe Chip's heel. It's not debilitating, just humbling to realize how quickly one's body can turn on you.


So last night we ran the Firecracker 5K. The boys soon left me way behind, but I'll catch up with them sooner or later. I finished in 31:45, Chip in 30 flat, and RJA in 27:09. I definitely want to break 30 minutes next time, but I think I'll take a day off from my training to celebrate our nation's awesomeness. And to rest my toe.

(The pictures aren't relevant at all. They're just cute. Sorry!)

From: 55-40 Memphis

A.B.C.

Whenever you listen to a Republican operative commenting on the Democratic primary race, I want you to notice something. Pay attention as to which candidate gets the most hits and snarks, and which candidate is declared the apparent front runner. Make a note and move onto the next operative. Do you see a pattern?

Expand your awareness. Take in what all the Republicans are saying about the Democratic candidates. Read the bloggers, too. Make note of which candidates get trashed most often, and which are pretty much left alone. As if the Republicans are purposely holding their fire. Do you see a pattern yet?

I'll give you a hint: The Democratic candidate the Republicans most love to trash goes by the initials A.B.C. On the other hand, the candidate they're leaving alone is the one that has the worst negatives in the polls.

Factor in something else. Look at the messaging of the Republican candidates. What is the common theme among them? What the single most wonderful trait of every last one of them? (Except the libertarian.) Chris Matthews sees it. Do you?

Is it "strong on national security?"

Nope. It's manliness.

That should tell you who the Republicans want to win the Democratic primary campaign and they're gearing up to face in the general. They want it so bad they're having a tough time keeping a straight face. They ache for it. They're having political woodies over this candidate because if that's whom they will face, they know they win in 2008.

The scary part is that they're right.

And that's the top reason I'm voting for A.B.C.

From: at home she feels like a tourist

When in Memphis....

It occurred to me as soon as I posted the previous entry that I had only looked at one side of a two-sided problematic. When addressing the relationship between a city and outsiders, one can examine both how city residents should receive the outsiders, and how outsiders should approach their new city. The old platitude "when in Rome, do as the Romans do" offers one rather simplistic response to the latter issue. Adapt and assimilate, it suggests.

On one level, this advice is obviously correct. If you are visiting a city where tipping is considered a rude affront, then you shouldn't leave a tip. If people pass on the right and walk on the left, then for reasons both practical and ethical, you shouldn't plow through a line of walkers on the left.

OK - but: what if you are visiting an explicitly racist city? What if you're a committed vegetarian in a city where venison is the local specialty? What if you're part of a gay couple in a city where homosexuality is considered a moral affront and gays are advised to stay very, very closeted? What if the local custom involves pelting stones at stray animals...or stoning adulteresses?

At what point does a cultural variation cease to be a fairly indifferent matter of local custom and become a political or moral issue which might call for outspoken public defiance?

Just a few hypothetical questions here. I'm not suggesting that Memphians pelt stones at stray animals or stone adulteresses - the cultural differences between Memphis and San Francisco certainly aren't that dramatic. But I'm using a few intentionally extreme examples to point out that, while we all accept the "when in Rome" principle up to a point, there is a line somewhere, beyond which even the responsible outsider should not necessarily simply accept local "custom" as such. Where does this line lie? Where exactly is the critical difference between boorishly refusing to respect the local culture, and taking an ethical stand against cruel or unjust local practices? Or even just an aesthetic stand against, for example, an ugly architectural craze in a city you're visiting?

A lot of questions in this post with no answers. I'm just trying to introduce a complicated problem for now; in the next post (whenever that comes) I will try to work out how this problem applies to an outsider in Memphis, specifically.

posted by fearlessvk

From: Listwork

Get to Know Your Blogger

1. New: Stacey dines with a Chockley at EP Delta Kitchen!
2. New: S.A.M. i.m.'s StephChockleyBlog.
3. Stacey Greenberg right here on Listwork.
4. Me! Elizabeth Alley interviewed by Urf!
5. RJA of Urf! interviewed by StephChockleyblog of One of Each, part 1 and part 2.
6. More to come as soon of the rest of these people get on the ball.

Organized by Elizabeth Alley

Recent Keyword Searches Leading To Memphis Blogger

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From: The Gates of Memphis

Embarrassment is Conservative

Over at Lantana Projects, Ian Lemmonds recently interviewed Frederic Koeppel, the art writer for the Commercial Appeal. In a question about getting people to pay attention to your art, he says:

Show as much as you can at spaces that are not embarrassing (no beauty salons, frame stores and pet shops).

But later, in a question about the changes in the Memphis art scene,

We have more alternative spaces, more independent and non-profit groups, more artists (and many of the same artists), but it’s clearly still a struggle to make and sell art in what is essentially an artistically conservative town.

Which leads me to this: maybe we're an artistically conservative town because we label mundane venues as embarrassing.

Maybe.

Because I think we should be an artistically progressive town, and because maybe is good enough for me, here's where we should show art:

• convenience stores
• car washes
• parking garages
• anywhere Louise Dunavant's paintings hang.
• barbecue shops
• MATA buses and trolleys
• back yards
• front yards (especially Prince Mongo's front yard)
• public schools
• ATMs
• clubs and coffee houses.
• feed stores
• independent used bookstores
  
• police precincts
• pawn shops
• churches
• multiplexes
• sidewalks
• cafeterias
• empty buildings
• empty lots
• Second Life
• greenhouses and nursery grounds
• tattoo parlors
• anywhere Thomas Kinkade's paintings hang
• junkyards
• martial arts academies
• where newscasters get their hair cut
• the sides of the Pyramid
• any setting of a Craig Brewer movie
• any setting of a John Michael McCarthy movie
• tanning salons
• video stores
• animal shelters
• public libraries
• City Council chambers
• funeral homes
  
• liquor stores
• Chinese food buffets
• sno-cone emporiums
• everywhere else
  

Note: following my advice rather than Mr. Koeppel's will not only harm your career, but possibly the art itself. It could get stolen, it could get shot, it could get barbecue sauce on it.

But I just don't see how Memphis can build whitewalls around art and still shake artistic conservatism.

posted by gatesofmemphis

From: artbutcher

Some Art Venues Embarrassing?

i would like to comment
on my own blog
my own opinion
about an ongoing conversation
between the gatesofmemphis blog
and the lantana events blog
about the interview ian did with fredric koeppel
and particularily a comment fredric made

"Show as much as you can at spaces that are not embarrassing (no beauty salons, frame stores and pet shops)."

the gatesof memphis blog
did not really agree with this statement
or this statement

"We have more alternative spaces, more independent and non-profit groups, more artists (and many of the same artists), but it’s clearly still a struggle to make and sell art in what is essentially an artistically conservative town."

gatesofmemphis blog
is of the opinion
one should show art everywhere
and he gives numerous locations
of where that art should be shown
then
ian comments on the gatesofmemphisblog

"As an artist myself, I can tell you that putting your art in these places will definitely harm your career. It takes only a little while for people (after they've seen your work around) to begin approaching you with "opportunities". They mean well, and will tell you they are curating a show in some restaurant or hair salon somewhere, and at first you will do a few of these kinds of shows and say to yourself, "maybe this will help my career". Trust me, it won't. No one goes to the hair salon to look at or buy art. Instead, the hair salon is getting free, revolving are placed on their walls ao they don't have to go out and buy any. Frederic's advice was right, and I, for one, am going to take it. Memphis may be conservative artistically, but that's no reason to start hanging your art in places where people will not see it, buy it, or care about it."

i think i have to disagree somewhat here
because i just happen to curate a space
that is in a restaurant
the p and h cafe
it may not be a traditional restaurant
and it sure in the hell
is not a traditional
nontraditonal space
but the exhibitons are important
important to the artists
important to the patrons of the p and h
it is a small space
the lighting is not that good
the exhibition wall is crooked
and to paraphrase fredric and carol and andrea
all of whom have written about shows
at the p and h
it is the worlds smallest gallery in memphis
i have put on over 25 solo shows at the p and h
and with the exception of about five
each artist has sold something
most have sold it all
last night for example
jason cole had an opening
no one in this cities art scene knows of him
except for me
and he has sold three pieces so far
bought buy people who do not care about art
they never go anywhere to look at art
and the only art they see
is the art i hang at the p and h
it helps the artist to work on their first public art
i am talking about the table tops here
not a traditoal form of public art
but some of these artists
get commissions to make more art
as a result of these table tops
i think that is important
important to the artists
i think the artists think it is important as well
as i have a waiting list about a year long

and i think i may have to disagree
with the statement
that it wont help the career
of an artist to show in such a place
i think the shows getting reviewed
is a help to the artist
some of these artists have gotten shows
in traditional white walled exhibition spaces
as a result of these shows
some of these artists have gotten
their work reproduced in national magazines
and printed on the front covers of books
as a result of having these shows
i think it is important for the artists
to have a place to have their first shows
which start out on a good note
because
people who do not care about art
buy it
these artists get to see their name in the paper
these artists have another addition on the web
when they google their name
some get to have an interview with me
that i post on this blog
and a shit load of people read this blog
from NYC to Los Angeles

it may not be a space
where an established artist
would want to have a show
which is not really true
as some the more established
well known artists
in this city
want to have a show at the p and h
i dont know what that says
but i think it says a lot

regarding shows in such venues
that are like the p and h
but are not the p and h
are important to the artists
and the people putting on the shows
take for example the shows
the gallery management class at rhodes puts together
this is
i think
great experience for young aspiring artists
and young aspiring curators
having a one day show at donald donuts
may not get you an interview
with the curator of the whitney biennial
but it is a start
and you cant end up at the top
without starting at the bottom
i am curious to know the locations
of the first exhibitons
that greely myatt had
terri jones had
veda reed had
hamlett dobbins had
elizabeth alley had
susan maakestad had
larry edwards had
pinkney herbert had
tad lauritzen wright had
alan duckworth had
ian lemmonds had
mel spillman had
mark nowell had
nancy cheirs had
just to name a few

all quotes printed without permission
beause that is the way i roll

Posted by dwayne

From: The Gates of Memphis

How Much Do You Hate The Gates of Memphis? A Lot? A Fair Amount? Just a Little?

The Memphis Business Journal ran an online survey asking their readers how much they read blogs, then posted the results in "Business Pulse results: Memphians hardly care for blogs". The brief story began:

The majority of an online survey participants don't bother to read blogs.

Memphis Business Journal asked its online readers last week if they liked blogging. Of the 106 respondents, 41 percent said they don't waste their time reading blogs. 34 percent said they only read blogs on occasion.

However, 10 percent enjoy reading others' blogs and 6 percent have their own blogs and post often. A surprising 9 percent don't even know what a blog is.

2 things:

1. were "do you bother to read blogs?" and "do you waste your time reading blogs?" survey questions? Maybe they were, but I can't find the actual survey.
   
2. if a majority doesn't bother to read blogs, what's the percentage that does? 34 percent on occasion, plus 10 percent who enjoy reading other blogs, plus 6 percent who have their own blogs and post often equals ... 50%. 50% -- well that's definitely not a majority. But doesn't that also mean that the percentage that doesn't bother to read is also 50% -- definitely not a majority either! So the opening line "the majority of an online survey participants don't bother to read blogs" is incorrect. Readership is split down the middle. Avid readership is pretty low but they didn't say "bother to read regularly", they said "bother to read."

Why such a slant?

Perhaps a clear defeat of a pale young pajama-wearing whippersnapper upstart reads more entertaining than a split decision. I appreciate this explanation because I don't want my avid-to-occasional readers falling asleep in their Wheaties either.

But could it be something else?

This is absolutely not a story unique to Memphis, but the continuous, public, no-barriers-to-entry conversations and debates created and nurtured by this and this and this and this and this and all of these are with few precedents in Memphis' history.

50%, 10%, 1% -- all improvements over silence.

Update/Apology: I had copied and pasted the text above from the MBJ article. Little did I know I also copied their HTML, which included a reference to an ad (I must have that adblocked on my other computer). It's gone now.

As a consequence of this mistake, I've changed the title of the post. You win this time, Memphis Business Journal!

posted by gatesofmemphis

From: at home she feels like a tourist

What should fill those empty buildings?

Since I live in downtown Memphis, I watch the developments and changes in that part of Memphis with particular interest. Sometimes I actually feel vaguely guilty about this; I realize that downtown is where the money is, where the expensive condos are, where the tourists are, where the boutiques and upscale restaurants and shiny beautiful people are. And the reflexively guttersnipe part of me (the Clash once sang that the truth is only known by guttersnipes, after all) wants to scoff at much of this, at this shiny veneer that Memphis hopes to present to its tourists while ignoring the desperation, despair, and decrepitude of its less desirable zip codes. Nonetheless, earlier today, yet again I found myself giddily excited over the latest addition announced to downtown: a pastry and coffee shop in the core of downtown.

So if I may be allowed to indulge my downtown-ism for a minute: for all the talk of revitalization, much of downtown Memphis remains abandoned and empty. The overgrown lots and warehouses testify to nature's inevitable revenge against everything artificial and manmade in her midst. While I find urban decay oddly beautiful in its own right, particularly when armed with a camera, my desire for bustling streets and welcoming storefronts typically outweighs my romanticization of decay. But still, I worry that our eagerness for something, anything to occupy those buildings will overwhelm our critical reception of new developments.

For example: the development of downtown, apart from residential development, has consisted predominantly of new restaurants and bars; retail lags behind. Does this mean we should dream of Gaps and Banana Republics and Hot Topics and Blockbusters and Foot Lockers filling the streets of downtown Memphis? When I pose the question like this, the answer seems so obvious: of course not. Naturally I favor independent businesses and local entrepreneurs and establishments with some genuine connection to the city and the neighborhood. Yet given the vastness of decay and abandonment, and the achingly slow development of retail in downtown, would I necessarily oppose the arrival of some predictable but reliably popular chain store in downtown Memphis? That is a tougher question to answer. In SF, I certainly would have opposed almost any chain store that set its sights on a well-travelled corner in one of my favorite old neighborhoods. But one can easily afford the luxury of opposing chain stores in a place like SF with a thriving street life and a thriving independent business culture. Can we afford the same luxury in a struggling and scarred city like Memphis?

Apart from Peabody Place, the world's most useless mall, with all 3.2 of its shops, and the American Apparel down in South Main, downtown Memphis does retain a certain independent charm. No doubt this is the independence of necessity rather than the independence of a defiant anti-chain spirit, but all the same, when I walk from one end of downtown Memphis to the other, I pass very few of the Usual Suspects, and that helps downtown Memphis to maintain a distinctive sense of place. Can a genuinely revitalized downtown Memphis maintain that independence? Can we support retail coming to downtown Memphis without homogenizing it via the Usual Suspects? What should - and what shouldn't - fill all those empty buildings?

posted by fearlessvk

From: The Daily Diversion

WAITING...

(I actually wrote this down last night while I was laying in bed, unable to sleep)

Yeah, I like the movie, but when it comes to fruition in real life, well, that's another story.

We weren't even back in Memphis for two hours before the first calamity took place. Being that is was nearly 80 degrees when we made it home, we decided to it would be a perfect evening to take a walk, followed by a nice dinner out.

We walked south down Main Street to the Orpheum and had pretty much decided that we were going to eat outside at the Majestic, but we wanted to stroll a little longer, since we'd been cramped up in a car for about five hours (speaking of which, I'll get to another story about some adventures in driving a little later).

So, we walked over by the FedEx Forum to see how the construction was going on the new hotel, then back north up 3rd Street toward Peabody. I remembered there was a Crepe place that opened up not too long ago that we hadn't tried yet, so we stopped by, just to check out the menu.

Unfortunately, they didn't have their menu posted on door, like most places here in Memphis, but no sooner than we turned to walk away did one of the chefs come out and greet us with a smile, a friendly face, and an offer of one of their "to go" menus. He also said "We'll delivery too, if necessary."

Knowing what we know now (several hours later), we should've just walked in and placed an order. We didn't though. We just took the menu and headed back up toward the corner of Peabody and Main, where the Majestic resides. All the while, Adrianne is focused on the menu we received at the Crepe place.

So, we get to Majestic and step inside, planning on eating outside on Main Street. No problem there. We're quickly seated and a couple of waiters pass us by, paying us no mind. This actually doesn't bother me much, as I assume they are handling other tables and one of them would probably be with us shortly.

A few minutes pass when our server approaches our table. He promptly asks if we would like something to drink. We oblige and place our drink orders. This, in and of itself, shouldn't be difficult, right?

Well, somewhere in between us speaking English and him bringing us our beverages there was a serious lapse in communication.

Now, rewind for a moment... About five minutes after we were seated, a family of six or seven people were seated at a table just behind us.

Back to the present... About five minutes after placing our drink order, the family seated behind us received their drinks, while we sat with two sets of silverware, neatly rolled in a cloth napkin, and two menus, closed, at the edge of the table (as we had long since decided on what we were having for dinner).

I really can understand taking a few minutes to retrieve drinks from the bar, especially when someone orders a rare port or single-malt scotch (where you actually have to go to the cellar to see if you have it in stock), but when the order is a Sprite and a water, with lemon, I kind of lose my understanding. I guess the lemon part was too difficult? Or could it be that the lemon's weren't ripe enough to serve?

Either way, after waiting 15 minutes for our drink order, which never came, we got up and left. Our server (if you actually want to call him that, since he didn't actually serve anything) was standing nearby when we exited the restaurant.

Now, I understand that this happens occasionally to tourists, and it's not that big a deal, since they probably won't be coming back anyway, but it really sucks when it happens to residents of downtown, who really want to spend their money down here, supporting downtown businesses. After all, I live, work, and enjoy playing downtown, and want to keep it that way.

The worst part of it isn't that this is first time this has happened at this restaurant. This is the fourth time I've eaten there, and not once have I been pleased with the service. If it wasn't for the food, I would've never given this place a second chance. I can assure you they will not get a fifth.

I know they probably don't care either, and that's fine with me. All of the waiters whom we saw outside were more worried about chatting with and catering to the two ladies sitting at the tables next to us anyway. I hope they were big tippers!

However, if I were an "undercover" restaurant reviewer, this would not look so good.

I love supporting downtown businesses, and it breaks my heart when one of them goes out of business. That being said, I sincerely hope that I am the exception to the rule at the Majestic, and not the norm when it come to service, other wise they won't be in business much longer.

Now, we did end up having a nice meal though, so don't think this story ends on a down note. We walked back down the street to the Crepe place and there was that smiling face, waiting to see us again. That was really a nice change of pace from what we had encountered only minutes prior to this.

We split a delicious chicken Caesar crepe and followed it with a "Triple Threat" dessert. The entree was wonderful, but the dessert was outstanding! This is the way the night should've gone to begin with. Now we know! Here is the restaurant: Crepe Makers

See, fate always finds a way to step in and make things right!

Now, let me tell you a little story about having some fun while driving. Better yet, read this short story from the Commercial Appeal...

I-40 pileup kills at least 1, shuts down eastbound lanes

By Associated
Press
March 9, 2007

DICKSON, Tenn. — At least one person was killed Friday night in a pileup on
Interstate 40 in Dickson County involving at least seven tractor-trailers and
six cars.
The chain-reaction crash started about 7:20 p.m. and shut down
eastbound lanes near mile marker 165 and backed up westbound traffic for miles,
according to the Tennessee Highway Patrol. The area is about 42 miles west of
Nashville.

At least one tractor-trailer overturned. The cause of the wreck was being
investigated.
Lanes were not expected to be clear until 2 a.m. Saturday.
Eastbound traffic was diverted to State Highway 48.

Yeah, well we left Memphis at 5:15 pm on Friday night, and at about 7:30 came upon a parking lot on I40. I'm guessing we were only about 10 to 12 miles from being involved in this accident, which is a relief. However, we were stuck in the aftermath for more than two hours because of this. After we had already finished watching "Anchorman" and started watching "BASEketbal" a TDOT truck came by telling us to cross the median and go to the closest exit, so we could be rerouted back to the interstate.

Well, we went a little different route. I decided, since I kind of knew where we were, to take an alternate route to Owensboro, thus avoiding the slow moving traffic that would be involved with getting back on I40. Needless to say, this was not a shorter route by any means.

Around 1:40 am we pulled into the driveway. In case you didn't know, it's a five hour drive from Memphis to Owensboro, pretty much any way you go. To say that we were exhausted when we finally go there would be a slight understatement.

I actually slept while a vehicle was in motion for the first time since I was a child, on Saturday, while we were heading to Lexington. That, alone, should speak volumes.

Inflicted on you by John

From: Fertile Ground

Lamplighter Column--Getting Schooled

For those of you who haven't picked up a copy of this month's Lamplighter...

GETTING SCHOOLED
Education choices in Memphis lacking

I was a proponent of the Memphis Public School system before I had kids. “I went to public schools and I turned out fine,” I would say (loudly in bars while having hypothetical holier-than-thou arguments). When I actually got pregnant and started thinking about reality versus winning an argument, I realized that “fine” wasn’t what I wanted for my future offspring.

For the first year of Satchel’s life I plotted ways for Warren or I to stay home full-time, but (ironically, due to needing two salaries to cover our student loans) nothing panned out. Our precious baby went to a home-based daycare and we went to work. When Satchel was eighteen-months-old and showing signs of sponge-like learning abilities, I started looking for a school to enroll him in. I called around and didn’t find too many options for his age group. At the time, the best choice was Threshold Montessori. Not only did they take the kids young, they were open from 6 a.m. to 6 p.m. — a working parent’s dream. At the school, children did art twice a day, played outside a lot, and had freedom to choose what “work” they wanted to do when they wanted to do it. Best of all, I liked the diversity. Threshold had a pretty even mix of white kids and black kids in addition to a smattering of kids with other ethnicities.

Satchel thrived at Threshold. He was well-liked by the teachers and students and quickly adapted to the Montessori style of learning. He paved the way for Jiro to be accepted at fifteen months of age, and soon he was thriving too. By the time Jiro enrolled, I no longer got upset by the amount of television they watched or the junk food they witnessed their friends eating. In fact, I looked forward to the third Thursday of each month when they had fast food or pizza because that was one less day that I had to make lunches. I was secure in the knowledge that they were both well cared for and intellectually stimulated. I gave glowing accounts of the school to my friends and never spent a moment worrying about either of my boys once I dropped them off in the morning.

Despite this, I did have a small inferiority complex in conversations with friends who sent their kids to the “fancy” Maria Montessori downtown. With its gardening program, high parent involvement, and no TV and no plastic toys, it seemed to me like it belonged more in California than in Memphis. I had called Maria Montessori when I was initially looking for a place to send Satchel, but upon discovering that they were only open until 2:30 p.m., closed in the summer, and that Satchel would have to be “invited” to attend a full day session after proving himself part-time, I couldn’t quite figure out how a family with two working parents could logistically send their child to Maria Montessori (even if they could afford it).

As much as I liked Threshold, I had to think ahead. Threshold only goes through kindergarten and Satchel is almost five. Warren and I had a come-to-Jesus talk where we discussed sending Satchel to Idlewild Elementary, the public school in our zone at the time. Idlewild was close by, it’s an optional school, and it has a pretty decent reputation.

We decided to do an Idlewild drive-by in August. I immediately noticed the “Open House Next Thursday Night” sign out front and the boys immediately noticed the cool playground behind the teachers’ parking lot. That Saturday we went to the playground and started talking about the time when Satchel would go to his “big school.” He was very excited and immediately started talking about his “big school” on a regular basis.

At the Open House, Satchel was amazed by the sheer number of people in attendance and was very interested to see the inside of the school. We walked by a few classrooms and ventured into the library, and of course, the restrooms. He seemed smitten, but inexplicably, by the time we got home, Satchel said he no longer wanted to go to the “big school.”

“Why?” I asked, perplexed.

“There’s too many people. Too many brown people,” he said.

“Whaaa, huh?” I was totally taken off guard.

But truthfully, I noticed too. According to the school’s racial breakdown, in a class of twenty-four, there might be three or four non-African American students. Satchel had plenty of black friends at Threshold, but I didn’t know how he’d feel being in the minority at Idlewild. When I went to Newberry Elementary, the racial breakdown of the classrooms was pretty much the same and I don’t remember feeling out of place. However, I would really like to have Satchel in a classroom that more accurately reflects the diversity of Midtown.

Recently, a crunchy friend of mine enrolled her daughter at Evergreen Montessori. “You should see it,” she said. “They have all of the traditional Montessori materials, they make lunch there, there’s a huge backyard with no sand and lots of animals, and there are all kinds of extras like yoga, soccer, and Tae Kwan Do.”

“Really?” I said trying to figure out why I hadn’t sent Satchel there in the first place. “What time do they close?”

“Six-thirty,” she said.

“Isn’t it expensive?”

“A little bit, but you would save some money not making lunches.”

“Don’t they close when the City Schools close?

“Yes, but they do stay open extra days for working parents.”

Warren and I set up an appointment to take Satchel and Jiro on a tour of Evergreen. We were greeted at the door by one of Satchel’s old Threshold classmates who immediately took him by the hand and ran off to show him everything. There were lots of other familiar faces too — from the playground, from Mothersville, from the grocery store, etc. The director told us that there were three other students with a Japanese parent and/or grandparent, which we thought was pretty cool. Once we saw all of the amenities at Evergreen, we were very impressed. It had all that Threshold had and more — all the way to the eighth grade. We were sold.

Looking over the enrollment packet, I was worried if we’d be able to afford Evergreen. It wasn’t as much as Maria Montessori, but it was definitely more than Threshold — especially if we needed before and after care, which we did. However, Warren and I were committed to making it work. And thanks to the understanding of Evergreen’s director, we did.

The boys have been at Evergreen for two months now and are fitting right in. They love yoga and Tae Kwan Do and can’t wait for soccer. Warren and I like seeing our friends at drop offs, pick ups, and parent meetings. I don’t miss making lunches one bit. The school definitely reflects Midtown and has a very neighborly feel.

It is easy for me to imagine the boys staying at Evergreen indefinitely, but not without feeling a little guilty about it. It was a no-brainer for us to buy a house (twice now) in a transitional neighborhood — the realtor actually said something along the lines of, “This neighborhood needs people like you” — but taking the leap into the public school system is much scarier.

I saw a high-school friend last fall at a Rock-n-Romp. As we sat and talked for over an hour, he told me how much he wanted to move back to Memphis.

“What’s stopping you?” I asked.

“The schools,” he said. In North Carolina, he told me, they have great schools. All kinds of schools. Even public Montessori schools.

I want to live in Memphis. In Midtown. I want to be a part of the solution, not the problem. But, I also want my kids to get a great (and not necessarily traditional) education. I don’t want a third of my income to go to private school, especially when a third of it already goes toward student loans.

I want better choices.

There's already been a record breaking THREE letters to the editor...one of which clears up a few facts about Maria Montessori that I got wrong, one basically says I am a racist, and one that simply says I am a whiner/poor journalist.

What do you think?

posted by Stacey Greenberg

From: Urf!

Why Bother?

I believe nature abhors a vacuum but loves irony. I think I have that right. I get a kick out of irony, I know that, whether in fiction or real life. But I don’t care so much for it when it kicks me in the solar plexus. Such is the case tonight, or this morning, whichever it is now. Fresh on the heels of the previous post, Robbin’ & Stealin’, wherein I poke fun at S and a friend’s daughter for stealing things, my business was broken into. Again. This makes five times in roughly seven years. I haven’t written much about what I do, but I own a small retail business in downtown Memphis. I’m sitting here, having spent two hours boarding up a window, picking up merchandise and sweeping up glass. And all I can do now is sit and type and wonder Why Bother? Why try to keep a small business going when there are animals out there? And that’s what they are – animals – a class of citizens in this city that wanders around and simply takes what they like with no regard at all for anyone else. They are no better than a pack of wild, roving animals and should be treated as such. Why bother trying to raise a family in a city that is increasingly becoming a cesspool of crime? Why bother being an entrepreneur at all? Why not work for a corporation and let all of this be someone else’s problem? Let them try to find money in the budget for a new 8-foot window.

Perhaps I’m just tired. I’ve got a full day now, once I go back home to get The Quartet dressed, fed and out the door for school, of cleaning, securing and buying glass. Or perhaps I’m just tired of everything.

Birthed by RJA

From: Secret Agent Mom

Our Happy Home In Memphis, Tennessee

With RJA's recent unexpected store guests added to the tally, that makes three fingerprint-garnering crimes inflicted on our small circle of friends since the beginning of the year. It's frightening, infuriating, and deeply demoralizing. Seeing headlines flick by on the news is depressing enough, but it's even harder to feel much hope about the place where you live when you watch your friends going through the cycles of anger and fear that being a crime victim entails. As Memphians, and (semi- to actual)Midtowners in partcular, we're constantly asking ourselves why we stay, why we put up with the problems we know are here, why we're raising our kids in a city that often resembles an Old West free-for-all rather than a stable metropolis.

In the new issue of Fertile Ground, a number of Memphis parents/writers address this issue both directly and indirectly (including all three of the lawfully infringed parties referenced above). There are a lot of positive things mentioned about Memphis, from the culture to the sense of community, but I think the most basic reason we're here is because ... this is where we are. This is our home, whether we've been here all our lives or have transplanted by choice. And sure, I guess there are those folks who pack up and move when the floors get creaky or the basement walls crack, but for those who crave stability and are slow to uproot, it just feels natural to work through the problems. Or better yet, follow the true Midtowner-homeowner path and ignore them.

And of course, pure stubbornness comes into play. Some chickenshit burglar or cracked-out, theoretically-armed robber thinks he's going to get the better of us? Some sackless douchebag is going to make us fear for the safety of our kids? The fuck he is!

(Ahem. Sorry, Mom. Did I mention the anger part of being a crime victim?)

Point is, we've made choices and sacrifices and commitments to this place. We've built careers and families and friendships here. As a native and 14th-generation Minnesotan, I never expected Memphis to feel like home to me, but now I can't deny the pull. Call it insanity or inertia, but it's become very hard for me to imagine myself having as full a life anywhere else. It's both the good and bad that make this town unique, and one night of having the crap scared out of me doesn't outweigh the countless park dates, shared meals, and hours of laughter that occurred before and since. Plus, of course, the nightly poker games at the saloon/brothel.

Briefed by S.A.M.

From: One of Each

Ode to S.A.M.

Of late, I feel I've really been on the same wavelength as S.A.M. It's time to quit ignoring it and just go ahead and write my love letter.

For awhile now, I've been fascinated by my internet friendships. I know people join dating services and meet people online, but this is different. I have developed real connections with people I've only met a handful of times, and all because we read each other's blogs. If I were still working on my sociology degree (I'm still just a paper away from that Master's!) I thinkI would delve into this topic. Sadly I'm not clever enough to write about it without academic prodding, but fortunately S.A.M. tackled the subject for me in the latest issue of Fertile Ground. I did much head-nodding while reading her essay, glad I wasn't the only one who thought this phenomenon was noteworthy.

Today S.A.M. has a blog post about why we stay in Memphis, even though we all know it is a cesspool. And it's the same thing I've always said. I'm a person who likes stability, likes to put down roots. When we were in our twenties, with no responsibilities and the whole world at our feet, I would shoot down the thought of leaving Memphis. My reasons were mainly that if I moved somewhere else, I'd live the same life- I'd find a few restaurants/bars/hangouts that I liked, and I'd frequent them. I'd get the same type of job, and go to it every day. The only thing that would be different is that I wouldn't have my friends and family with me, and what's the point in that to a person like me? Yes, sometimes Memphis seems to suck. But when it does, I imagine myself in a different city without the people I love, and I just work through it.

So I was already feeling the S.A.M. love when I received this email today: "Does anyone have any interest in joining Team S.A.M at the Riverkings game tonight?" She thought it was a longshot that any of her friends would want to go to a minor league hockey game. What she didn't know was that earlier this week, while watching hockey highlights on SportsCenter, Connor turned to me and said, "Can you take me to a hockey game?" I had already checked the Riverkings schedule to find a suitable night when we could take Connor down south. We had decided on March 10 (Hockey Mr. Potato Head giveaway night), but tonight suddenly seems like a much better option. I think we'll even listen to Sign O' The Times on the way to the rink, just to make the experience complete.

Then tomorrow we'll deal with the restraining order.

From: Urf!

Why We Bother

I feel like I need to expand on my earlier post, Why Bother?, written a week ago and only hours after my business had been broken into, and perhaps answer my own question. Why bother, I wondered, to live in a city with an increasing crime rate and leaders who are impotent to fight it? Why bother to work six days a week for eight years to build a business only to have some piece of crap break into it and take what he likes? Why bother to live within the law when so many seem to have no respect whatsoever for it? These are the questions I had that early morning on only a few hours of sleep. And most of this is still a dilemma for me, let me make that clear. However, since that day, some of those questions have been answered for me. They’ve been answered by friends and family who live in this city, or have lived here. Some of them have been victims of crime recently and are entrepreneurs themselves.

Both S.A.M. and StephChockley, in response to my question, waxed more eloquently than I can on why it is we live where we live. They touched on friends more than anything, friends who have become family. Their posts meant more than many of you realize because they have both been victims of crime recently as well, one in her family’s home and one a victim of armed robbery at her place of business. Yet they are able to see past this all to recount the good in this city and her people. I should take a page from their book, or blog, if these are pages, and look for the positives in my fellow Memphians. But it’s difficult for me. It’s difficult because this was my fifth break-in, because of the garbage I witness harassing the good people downtown every day and because the newspapers are full of the irresponsibility, incompetence and egos of the leaders of our city. But this is where we are. This is where I grew up, bought a business and am raising four children. If I were to suggest to Big Mama tonight that we pack up the kids and our favorite books into the Volvo 740 turbo wagon and move away from here, she would do it, such is her disdain for the city, but we both know that’s not possible. We’re entrenched here … for now. And as long as we’re entrenched, we’re lucky to be so with some really good people, true friends and family.

My other question had to do with owning a small business. Why bother? I heard from an old friend living in Oklahoma who reminded me that she reads about the four reasons why I do the work I do on this very blog all the time. And there’s truth in that. One of the reasons I wanted to own my own business, to be my own boss, was to show my kids that it was possible. That they could make their own way, just as my father-in-law and step-father had shown me. I’m not sure how good a job I’m doing of teaching them, but as long as they don’t have access to the books yet then I’m still the king. When something happens like a break-in, however, I keep it from them because they don’t need to know that things they see on the news or in television shows is happening to their father. And just the fact that some stranger has affected me in such a way that is out of my control, and that I have to keep it from my kids, makes me angry.

Other friends have stepped up, too. One has a blog devoted to the entrepreneurial spirit. He’s a zealot and it is worth a read. S.A.M. owns a couple of businesses, too, and tells me to repeat the word “cubicle” over and over when times become distressing. Even my mother, who called just to talk about the original post – no, wait, she called to talk about The Godfather III – laughed at my considering corporate work, saying I should go to work for Enron.

What stands out to me more than what these people said is that they said it at all, or wrote, or called at all. Friends understood, they sympathized and they empathized. I bother because of all of them. I bother because I owe it to my family to bother. Memphis is our home, we’ve made friends here and we have family here. And this city is ours as much as, if not more, than those who wish to sully it. So we’ll stay here for now with our fellow Memphians and we’ll visit Peabody Park and travel to each others’ houses, we’ll eat pork and go to work and school, and we won’t let the bastards get us down.

Birthed by RJA

From: Sassy Molassy

Ok, I'll talk

Everyone in our circle of friends seems to be blogging about why Memphis is still a good place to live even though it's not. Or even though three of us have been victims of crimes in the past month, to be more specific. It seems I have been cast in the role of hater in this little love-for-our-home fest, so I thought I would talk about why I want to leave.

Yes, Memphis has been my home for all but about two years of my life. Yes, my parents and friends are here, and leaving them would be sad and difficult. But it's not like moving a few hours away means we'd never see or hear from any of you again. I know that we would miss the weekend hangouts and watching our kids grow up together, and yes, I'm tearing up as I write that. Still, I have to believe that in another city we could not replace, but add to our circle of friends, and make a life for ourselves just like we've done here. Just with less crime and prettier scenery.

The crime is bad but it's not the main problem for me. Ok yes, yesterday the librarian here at school mentioned that she had seen my address on some paperwork and realized we are neighbors on the same block. In the course of the conversation, she told me that last year she came home and surprised a robber, who kept her in the house for two hours, lying face-down on the floor, while he went through her stuff and took what he could find. When I said I had heard about that from another neighbor but thought it happened in a nearby cove, she replied in a low voice "No, that was the rape. That was terrible." And we live in a pretty good area, in what we jokingly call the servants' quarters of one of the city's oldest and most expensive neighborhoods. Why don't the crack heads steal from the rich people in the million-dollar mansions and leave us alone? I have to ask if I'm just biding my time until I come home with my kids one day to see the door kicked in, or how I will help them recover from the fear after we all get carjacked. We are just, today, two full months into the year and there have been 23 murders in Memphis so far. The big story in the local news is that the bloated monopoly of a utility has been giving certain political figures a free ride on utility bills registering in the several thousands, for who knows how long, under the guise of a program designed to protect the elderly and disabled poor from unexpected cut-offs. The separate-but-not-equal dual school systems are still zoning for overcrowded schools along racial lines and still trying to say they are not doing any such thing. I won't even get into the disgustingly inept and corrupt city council, mayor, et al. It's too depressing.

I feel like it's time for a serious risk/benefits analysis. When I spend time thinking about whether it is better to try to talk an armed attacker into letting me live, or saying nothing so I won't anger him, I think it's time to go. I realize there is no utopia, and that every community has crime and problems. I just can't believe there isn't a better place than this in which to raise my family. I can't help but think what a big world this is, and what a short life, and that I could live someplace beautiful, but instead I live here. Consistency is always easiest, but I'm not afraid to leave my comfort zone. And even though I do love and thrive on change, I'm not advocating change for its own sake. There are just so many reasons to leave, and just too few to stay.

From: at home she feels like a tourist

Southern Gothic Pyramid

It's something of a civic sport in Memphis to propose new ideas for the Pyramid, that giant empty white elephant that nonetheless occupies an iconic place in our skyline. Memphians debate whether Bass Pro will actually take over the building, and perhaps more importantly, whether Bass Pro actually should take over the building. We ask ourselves whether an aquariam would better serve the space and the city. Some have proposed an indoor amusement park; others prefer a museum; a few have suggested a casino (please, God, no!) Finding the art museums in Memphis rather disappointing, especially in the department of modern art, and being generally a geeky, arty type, I was instantly supportive of the art museum idea - not that there's any chance of this happening, but purely as a fantasy. I imagined an elegant modern art museum in that ancient structure, a clever juxtaposition of old and new, the sort of attraction which would lure an edgier crowd to downtown Memphis.

An iconic building in the Memphis skyline really should be a public space, not a glorified fishing store. Ideally, it should be educational in some manner, a genuine cultural attraction. But perhaps I should be more creative with my thinking. There are modern and contemporary art museums in dozens of cities across America and the world. I would still love to see one in Memphis, but perhaps an iconic Memphis building should house something a little more culturally specific, something which captures the spirit and soul of Memphis. Many Memphis museums, art galleries, and cultural spaces cultivate this city's keen sense of place by chronicling, commemorating, or displaying local culture: the Stax Museum, the Rock n' Soul Museum, the Center for Southern Folklore, etc etc. So in the spirit of absolutely delusional fantasy, I propose the following idea for the Pyramid:

A MUSEUM OF SOUTHERN GOTHIC

Consider the endless possibilities. A lending library and a bookstore focusing upon literary Southern gothic, featuring Flannery O'Connor and William Faulkner and Cormac McCarthy and all the usual suspects. A visual arts wing, displaying paintings and photography capturing the haunted darkness and the heart of darkness of the American South. A theater for periodic film showings of classics like A Streetcar Named Desire and newer versions of the genre like Undertow. Perhaps a historical wing could examine the ghastly true tales which have inspired the genre. This would make for a fascinating, unique, apropos, and genuinely significant space. I could imagine scholars and aspiring writers and those with vaguely morbid sensibilities descending upon Memphis to visit such a singular attraction. It would fit perfectly into Memphis' own manner of confronting its past: proud of the Southern heritage but also painfully and admirably willing to lay bare the grotesque scars and the ghastliness.

The pyramid would be an ideal space for an exploration of the Southern gothic sensibility. The ancient Egyptians had their own bizarre and often grotesque mythology, and pyramids signify opulence, tombs, and death. What better place to unearth the ghosts of the South and celebrate the region's sublime cultural singularity?

If nothing else, it would surely be a better use of public funds than a new stadium...

posted by fearlessvk

From: Fertile Ground

Advertising

I've been seeing this ad featuring someone's belly all around town. An initial drive-by had me thinking it was a Nike ad featuring a pregnant woman since the media seems obsessed with pregnant women.

Then I thought maybe it was just a regular old post-partum body and that the ad was showing that one can be athletic and stretchy at the same time. Cool, I thought. Way to show an accurate picture of women's bodies and make it look 'sexy'.

Before I could google Nike and get to the bottom of the campaign, I noticed the billboard on my lunch time stroll down Main Street. I got close enough to read the very fine print and discovered that the picture is of a man! It's a part of the Ad Council's new anti-obesity campaign.

That's cool too, I guess. I was just really excited about the potential sexy-ification of stretch marks.



posted by Stacey Greenberg

From: Jen-sized.

Huh.

Sometimes I log in to my Movable Type and start typing away at an entry, only to get sidetracked by something on the television or elsewhere on the net, or I decide that a) I've already talked about this too much, b) nobody cares or c) there is no cohesive idea behind what I'm rambling about. This time I'm going to go all the way and if it doesn't make any sense, OH WELL.

I got my new MacBook yesterday and I love it. I love the built-in iSight and the remote and all the neat features that my PowerBook doesn't have - oh, and the glossy screen is just spectacular. Reminds me of watching television in HD. I love not being restrained by my AC adapter, which has become a breathing tube for my PowerBook. I've even found a couple of neat new apps, like this Flock browser and Transmission, the BitTorrent client. Still need to get Adobe CS/CS2 and see how it performs, but that can wait.

But... my wireless router and the new Mac -- which I've named Reggie, go ahead and laugh -- don't seem to want to get along. I can connect to our home network, which was handy when I transferred my music and photos over, but not the Internet. I tried everything I could think of, which wasn't much. Although I know my way around a Mac better than I know my way around my house but I'm no network administrator. I jumped on one of the neighbor's networks (y'all really need to secure your network), so I know I can connect SOMEHOW.

I even called Apple, which is like the Ultimate Last Resort™ and they couldn't help me. I realize that the issue is between my computer and the router, as our other Macs connect wirelessly with no trouble, but I was really hoping that they would say "Do this, this and this, set this to this, and you should be fine." I don't think the lady was qualified. I think her qualifications ended at the power button. I hung up on her. And I've been attached to the wall all day. I don't really mind it, because it's kind of nice to see our "office" actually put to use, but Saturdays Bravo shows Six Feet Under marathons, and they were at Season 4 today, and I really wanted to watch, but I wanted to play with my new toy at the same time. Waah.

Anyway, any kind of advice would be appreciated.

Here is a cool picture I took at the Vending Machine CD release party last Saturday.

Out of all the times I've seen them, that was probably the best. They had two drummers. I have only listened to the new album a little bit (as a certain person has been keeping a pretty tight grip on it) but it's as good as I expected. It's about the only local music I keep up with anymore. Nothing's really impressed me lately. I did like Castle Poster when they played at the Bucc a few weeks ago.

Tonight I think I'm going to the Hi-Tone again for the MRD Birthday Party. Maybe it will motivate me to grow a pair and start skating again. Who knows. We'll see about that.

-jen

From: The Gates of Memphis

Dixie Homes from outer space and auld lang syne

I was scrolling around Google Earth and saw this very interesting street layout not far from Downtown:


After a few minutes I ciphered it was Dixie Homes, the housing project at Pauline and Poplar.

The architect of Dixie Homes was J. Frazer Smith, who was profiled in an article last June by Frederick Koeppel (I believe the CA has already Berlin Walled the article). I also came upon the essay The Art of Architecture: Modernism In Memphis 1890 - 1980 by architectural historian Judith Johnson. Turns out Smith was not only an architect but an early historical preservationist.

A complex person, he wrote a history of the early nineteenth-century plantation architecture of the Middle South, White Pillars, and simultaneously designed housing projects sensitive to recent international developments in housing design. During the Depression, Smith was also the regional chief of the Historic American Building Survey (HABS). Ironically, he would order the city’s original nineteenth century building stock located in the Market square slums surveyed by HABS before he demolished it for the construction of Lauderdale Courts.

The irony continues -- they've begun demolition of the Dixie Homes.

Karmic backlash 50 years after Smith's death.

By the way, below's an illustration of the Dixie Homes grounds from the final presentation [a very interesting pdf!] of last summer's Winchester Park/Intown Charette.

This might mean Smith's layout will live, if not his buildings.

posted by gatesofmemphis

From: Listwork

Things That Are Missed in Midtown Memphis

This list can probably be added onto continually forever, but these are just a few (or 22) things that I have thought of that used to be in Midtown but are no longer. I didn't frequent all of these places myself but know others who did, plus there are probably a ton of things I left off. And these only date as far back as 1990. They are in no particular order, except for #1, which is really #1.

1. The Antenna Club: Where I watched The Wayback Machine and Judge Crater, and realized I was just about to fall in love with the man who would become my husband.
2. River City Doughnuts: Diagonal to the Antenna on Madison Ave., it was a good place for a pre-show snack, or for lunch!
3. Lam Hung: A few doors down from River City Doughnuts in that little strip mall. It was the first place I ever ate Chinese food and liked it, and it just had a weird Midtown vibe.
4. Decadence Manor: Closer to Belvedere on Madison - are you noticing a theme here? Cool place. Cool owner.
5. Babylon Cafe: I didn't go here much because you couldn't smoke inside and in 1990 I was all about smoking.
6. Red Square: I don't remember if I ever went there, but I know the rest of you did, though you may not remember it!
7. Recovery Road: Where under-aged kids could see The Wayback Machine.
8. Salvation Army at Crosstown.
9. The Occasion Shop: I know Click(Daily) and a lot of other Midtowners got their wedding rings there.
10. Giovanni's: Keeping with the wedding theme - LOTS of people got engaged there. It was a good restaurant - good food, good atmosphere. It's a shame the owners moved from the Cleveland location to Park before closing for good.
11. That Italian Place on Poplar: I can't remember the name of it, but it was just west of Belvedere kind of where the Taco Bell is now - there has always been one there (at least since 1990) but at some point they tore down the old one and built a new one, but anyway - the Italian place had good chicken cacciatore, and bands played there sometimes because apparently if you serve food in Midtown you also have to let bands play there.
12. Squash Blossom.
13. Cancun Mexican Restaurant: When it was on Cooper across from where Bari is now - the building burned down a few years ago. It was big and loud and cheap.
14. Mega Market: Okay no one really misses Mega Market, but when I needed it most they had the largest quantity of ramen noodles for a dollar.
15. Romeo's Pizza: My brother introduced me to Romeo's - he actually bought me some dinners there when I had no food!
16. Silky Sullivan's patio: Another place to see The Wayback Machine. They were on the western edge of Overton Square. What is there now? A parking lot? They had a small Statue of Liberty that got stolen. I still sometimes wonder where that went.
17. Melos Taverna: I miss the restaurant, the food, and the tiny, grumpy but very cute old man who ran it.
18. TGI Fridays: I can't help it - I got a little nostalgic after reading this review on Dining with Monkeys.
19. Robert E. Lee Antique Mall: When it was the Robert E. Lee, not when it was Kate's - it was much better then.
20. The Cupboard: Yeah yeah I know they just moved down the street to where the old Shoney's was that I worked at for one night, but we all know that the food and atmosphere were better at the old place next to the Kimbrough.
21. Anderton's: A more recent loss, but felt strongly nonetheless.
22. The graffiti wall on Madison: I am very anti-graffiti, and maybe I will list those reasons for you one day, but this wall on Madison was an exception. The wall is still there - just east of the P&H next to (what was?) the BellSouth building (I think?). For a long time it had a giant "MEAT IS MURDER" painted on it (ah, the 90's), until someone painted over it so that it said "MEAT IS YUMMY".

Posted by Elizabeth Alley

From: Urf!

The Drive To Drink

Childhood tends to be remembered as a menagerie of cars and houses, and mine was no different. When I was a kid, we went through several different cars. We had a Ford Grenada, a Ford Pinto, an MG Spitfire, a Porsche 914, Buick Regal, a Renault, a Camaro and a Cadillac. We drove everywhere in these cars, from Memphis to the Gulf Coast and Chicago, to Pickwick and Sardis, countless trips to my grandparents’ and great-grandparents’ houses, to Montesi’s, Central Hardware, downtown to take my father to work and to the liquor store. My dad went to the liquor store a lot, though we kids had to stay in the car while he ran in. I never knew what went on behind the doors of the liquor store. In my mind there were naked women dancing around. Seriously. That’s what was taboo in my prepubescent head – nudity. It couldn’t simply be that there was booze in there, because there was booze everywhere. It was also the 70s and must have been safer to leave your two or three kids in the car with the windows down while you ran in for a bottle of scotch or rum or gin.

Tonight, on the way home from work, I had one of The Quartet with me and needed to stop by the liquor store for a bottle of wine. I debated with myself the whole way there as to whether or not he should come in with me. I didn’t see any reason why not, but something told me he shouldn’t, not because I think a liquor store is some sort of den of iniquity, but simply because I wasn’t allowed to at his age so neither should he. I silently talked to myself the whole way there about the situation, shaking my head and shrugging just the way my mother does, and finally decided, as I pulled into the parking lot, that he should stay in the car. I have no good reason for that. More reason, in fact, for him to come in with me, what with all the crazies out there eyeing my 1991 Volvo 740 wagon. The car could easily be taken with one of The Quartet in it. I really questioned my decision when I got out of the car and was immediately panhandled by one of our quaint, Midtown denizens. But I’d parked right in front of the store, had locked the doors and could see the car the whole time from the Pinot Noir display and the front counter.

So the trip ended safely and neither the car nor the kid were stolen. The kid barely escaped a visit to Gomorrah and I was left with a nice bottle of wine and the nagging disappointment, as an adult, that there are no naked girls dancing behind the door of a liquor store.

Birthed by RJA

From: Click (Daily)

I can't resist one more dance photo.

at 6:50 AM

From: Rachel and the City

About 10 Minutes Before I Was Almost Arrested

So, a few people have been wondering where I have been lately. For those of you who care, after what I like to refer to as "The Christmas" incident, I have been on hiatus from going out.

After seeing the Pirates play Christmas night at The Hitone (they were awesome btw, and are now joined by Mr Steve Selvidge) I was on my way home around 2AM when I was invited to take a ride in my friends new Cadillac...at the time it sounded like a great idea, so I hopped in the car with some friends and off we went. I had no idea the block we were going around was down Poplar to Front Street to Union, and as we turned onto Union on two wheels with Beyonce blasting from the speakers, we past three police officers in the middle lane and you can fill in the blank what happened after that.

As I sat in the front passenger seat frantically dialing Drue Diehl's number to warn her that I may be on my way to jail, I said a little prayer that if I didn't go to jail that night, I would never drink again.

Now, the irony of course is that I'm agnostic! But as soon as I said that little prayer in my head the police came back to the car and told us to have a good night and they ended up sending us on our way (it was Christmas!!)

So, although I highly doubt I will never drink again, I am so inclined to lay off for a while and regroup - cause even though I wasn't driving and afterwards was told by several people that there was little chance of anything happening to me, I really don't want to ever be in that situation again.

So, yeah, I'll see ya around, but please don't buy me a drink...

Posted by Rachel

From: Secret Agent Mom

True Confessions

I don't know if guilt is hereditary, but Miss M seems to be channeling the previous generations of Mormon and Catholic repentance. The last thing she does before falling asleep at night, after the two books and one story and two songs, after the lights go off and her mother growls "Lie down, be still, close your eyes" for the 48th time, she confesses something. She goes through her mental summary of the day and finds something that she needs to apologize for. Last night, it was a fairly recent one: "Mama, I'm sorry for knocking over all the books" (which she'd done by kicking them off her nightstand about ten minutes earlier). The night before last, she went further back into the day and recalled an unfortunate potty-related incident that I never held her accountable for in the first place: "Mama, I'm sorry I fell in the toilet." Then she asks the most important question in her world: "Are you my best friend?" Mama stops growling after that.

Briefed by S.A.M.

From: a pulp faction

February/March Submissions

We're now accepting submissions for the February and March issues.

1) Comic/Cartoon Submissions. 1-2 panels, 1/2 page (4 1/4" x 5 1/2"), Black and White. Should cover a topic pertinent to Memphis creative culture and be at least a little bit funny. Or witty. Or snarky. You know, whatever.

2) Story Submissions. 400-600 words. Pertaining to Memphis creative culture. Brevity is your friend, so is wit and more or less proper engrish. (English works, too.)

Of particular interest:

-- Stories covering local bands or bands playing in Memphis in said month. -- Stories covering albums or films to be released during said month. (Again, Memphis related only.) -- Juicy gossip about people that make art or books or music or movies or clothes or whatever. (Keep it clean, folks.) -- Weird hobbies. -- Favorite Memphis intersections. -- Newsy type things. (I like press releases.)

Rules:

-- Don't write a story or interview about your band. -- Give me something by the 15th for potential publication in the February issue, the more complete the better.

So, get on it.

Thanks.

posted by pulpfaction

From: The Gates of Memphis

A Letter to Target

Robert J. Ulrich
Chairman of the Board and
Chief Executive Officer
Target Corporation

Dear Mr. Ulrich,

Memphis has recently learned that we're to get a new Target store in the area of Memphis called Crosstown. There's been much discussion as to whether Target would choose a suburban design -- a box warehouse surrounded by asphalt parking lot -- for this location. I'm writing you to ask that Target build a store that will embody, in your aisles and in our streets, your corporate emphasis on great design and is mindful of the urban setting you have chosen for your store.



Crosstown is a section of Memphis that was originally an early 20th century trolley suburb, full of bungalows, shotgun houses and 2-story family homes and small-scale commercial buildings (I've enclosed photos of some nearby examples). However the area had declined substantially from the 1960s, when a urban freeway sliced through its heart, demolishing many of these structures, and another planned (but never completed) freeway resulted in the demolition of many more. Businesses closed. Cheaply made apartment buildings replaced houses. Neighborhoods not destroyed began a long decline. Where you plan on building your new store is one of those neighborhoods.


Memphis has only recently stopped this decline. A big part of the comeback has been the infill of homes in the area where the unbuilt freeway demolished homes. At the insistence of community leaders, the rebuilt homes were built to the aesthetic standards of the neighboring undemolished homes. The scars left by the unbuilt freeway have healed thanks largely to the design quality of these rebuilt homes. Other factors are the diverse community who have settled and stayed in that area, and a new downtown to Crosstown trolley system that Memphis added whose terminal is just 2 blocks from your proposed site.


I speak for no one but myself, but I nevertheless ask that as you design the new store, you consider how you can help further transform and revitalize Crosstown Memphis (as well as attract customers) through beautiful, affordable and place-conscious design. Just as Target transformed itself by growing through design, you can help do the same with this area of Memphis. I hope that you will consider my request.

Respectfully,

The Gates of Memphis