“The very ink with which history is written is merely fluid prejudice.” ~ Mark Twain.

They say confession is good for the soul.  I was an Elvis fan from early.  You could say I had a celebrity crush on him, and even had a postcard sized head shot in black and white pinned on my bedroom wall.  I don’t recall whether I saw him on TV, but before I was old enough to be critical of his acting ability (I doubt that I even saw him in a movie in my childhood), I loved the sound of his music, and his classic movie star looks.

In my later years, as I became more socially conscious, I was a little ambivalent about the source of his success.  Was he one of those white singers who had ‘stolen’ his style of singing, his rhythm, his soul even, from the African American influences of blues and gospel?  Or was he (like I was) raised in the midst of such influences (mine were the ska, rocksteady and reggae sounds of Jamaica), and so he was incapable of singing any other way? 

My recent road trip took me to Memphis, that city perched on the Mississippi River, iconic for being the site of the assassination of MLK Jr.  But what else was Memphis famous for? Of course, Graceland features, since it was in Memphis that Elvis recorded and launched his music career (having been born in nearby Tupelo, Mississippi).  We were in Memphis for family business, but we had to take in a couple of the sights. 

I was struck by the amount of brick buildings (homes, businesses, churches, universities).  But it was standing staring at the balcony of the Lorraine Motel where MLK Jr was shot and killed that I was hit by the weight of history.  Across the corner from what is now a Civil Rights Museum stands Ms. Jacqueline Smith, who has been protesting the museum day in and day out for over 36 years.  She lived and worked at the Lorraine Motel, and believes that the money spent on converting it to the Museum could have been better spent on low-income housing, and projects to help raise people out of poverty.  She feels this would be what Martin would have wanted (and she waves one of his books to support this claim).  Black tie events and gentrification of the downtown area only serve to push poor people into homelessness as housing costs increase.  Whether Ms. Smith is misguided or a little ‘touched’, there is no doubting her sincerity, her conviction and her persistence.  Summer is a cruel time to stand outdoors all day, but some of the visitors to the museum stop by and visit with her, take photos, and at least listen to her cause.

The Museum itself is a heavy place to visit, filled with the documented evidence of the history of African Americans, starting with the Trans-Atlantic Slave trade, through to the Civil Rights era.  There are black and white photos, videos, replicas of the bus with Mrs. Rosa Parks steadfastly sitting in her seat while a recorded voice of the bus driver warns her what will happen to her.  In one room the speech and image of Martin Luther King Jr. delivering his iconic ‘I had a dream’ speech held a group of visitors (mostly white and older) spellbound.  Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately) we had arrived at the museum with little over an hour before closing, and so we did not linger over many of the rooms.  The tour takes you chronologically through the eras and events, culminating in the motel rooms (two adjoining) which had been preserved (even before the motel became a museum) as they were when MLK Jr and his associates stayed there.  Unlike the rest of the museum, where you can linger in front of whichever image interests you, when you come to these rooms you go through in single file, staring through the glass window to look into the motel rooms, reading the posterboards, listening to the sound of Mahalia Jackson singing ‘Precious Lord (take me home)’ as she did at his funeral.  It is very much as if you are part of a group of mourners walking up to and past a casket, even though there is no body, no coffin to view. 

Ms. Smith may be right, but there is no doubting the impact of the Museum, and the necessity to document and display history from the point of view of those dispossessed, those abused, those who still carry the burden of enslavement, the Jim Crow era (yes, it is hard to see the more than life-size photographs of lynchings, with a crowd of white people seemingly cheering them on) and more.  Unfortunately, we cannot declare the USA to be a ‘post-racial’ society, when we still have evidence of the existence of systemic racism even today.

On a lighter note we had visited the Stax Music Museum earlier in the day, listened to the soulful sounds of Otis Redding, the Staple Singers and others.  The Stax business model allowed for musicians to maintain rights to their own music, and the staff of Stax Music was diverse.  Yet even there the story of racism was evident.  In 1971, a teenager Elton Hayes was brutally beaten and killed by Memphis police, and Isaac Hayes (no relation), another of the Stax Musicians, played a role in trying to diffuse tensions. 

As a counter balance to the weight of history, we left Memphis and crossed the state to the Great Smoky Mountains National Park.  A drive through the Cades Cove loop provided us with the healing power of the natural world.  Trees towered over us, providing that dappled light that seems magical.  Cars piled up as Black Bears were spotted, mother and cubs ambling through the undergrowth, or climbing up into trees.  Well preserved log cabins dotted the trail, reminding us of simpler times, when living off the grid was the norm.  Vistas of distant mountain ranges provided the security that mother Earth provides, reminding us that it is man who has created the chaos and conflict, while in nature there is order, consistency, rules, structure.

This Friday morning, as I wake up in yet another state, I am comforted that there are people willing to fight for their beliefs.  I am reassured that history is still being represented, to ensure that past mistakes are not repeated.  I am soothed by the sight of water coursing over rocks, rivers rushing to the sea.  I am impressed by the beauty of nature, restored and preserved in National Parks for all to enjoy.  I am hopeful that we can work together to ensure that our earth will continue to support us and future generations. 

Have a wonderful weekend, Family!

One Love!

Namaste.