Stormy Stormy Memphis...

Uncle Tim was right there to meet me when I stepped off the train in Memphis. It was hot and humid, even early in the morning. As we drove back to the house from the station, Tim told me about the subtle and only slightly covered prejudice that still exists in the South. After many years in the South, he seemed anxious to get back to the, what he called, "progressive" coasts. He showed me around downtown and told me about the music festival that was going on (part of Memphis in May). We payed the ducks at Peabody Hotel a visit and enjoyed the view from the roof. That evening, the storm rolled in. According to Tim, this was the worst storm to hit his house in the 29 years he had been there. My cousin and I were planning to check out the festival, but decided against it since there were tornado warnings in the area. Not just tornado watches, but tornado WARNINGS, meaning someone had spotted a tornado nearby. Tim and I drove down to Mississippi and he showed me some typical southern landscape, very green and lush. The vast amount of what he called "cheap" land amazed me. It may have just been the time of year or the weather, but that land was beautiful. People owned lakes and rivers, had houses set back from the street. It was not the city. We got lost in the tangling streets of the backroads and then found ourselves a highway running parallel to a set of faithful rail road tracks. As we cruz along the asphalt hitting top speed, I look up and enjoy the sunshine on my face and the wind in my hair. Later, we got barbecue pork sandwiches- hands down the best damn barbecue i've ever had! I took my cousin Zach's bicycle out for a ride and went down to the meadow where I saw a group of dear. Poem:

Nimble in nibbling

the dear stand knee deep in blowing grass,

the heavy breeze drags across me-

refreshing.

chewing paused by glances towards the road.

followed by humble lowered necks.

smell sinks over me

Spring graces my nose

i am thankful

Also, Tim and I went to the National Metal Museum. The variety of uses, styles, and textures, amazed me. The artwork incorporated these mediums so well. We sat on the river and chatted about Mississippi water levels and life. The functioning metal working-shop there had a variety of crafted items to handle and inspect. We stopped for milkshakes before heading for home, the icy cream was delicious in the dampening heat.

My cousin and I discussed the benefits and drawbacks to carry a concealed loaded firearm, and I concluded that I could never do it, especially at my level of exposure to guns- not much. We tried to visit a shooting range, but the place was full and booked. I am anxious to learn how to responsibly and productively use a firearm- I hope soon.