Part 10 (1/2)

It's been quite a journey, so far. Seeing the house, meeting that sweet Rosa, and now in Louisiana on my way to Baton Rouge and points beyond. I should be in Memphis by Thursday.

The scenes are coming fast. Will send several more pages soon.

Love you. C

From: Carrie

To: Mama

Sent: Jan. 4

Subject: Greenville, Miss.

Wow, Mama! I thought it couldn't get any better. My mind is now wandering just like it does in the isolation of Colorado, ideas and images are popping up all over the place. Today was almost too much to write about after eight hours at the wheel. I left Lafayette and got lost heading out for Greenville, and came upon an old gas station: SOUL FOOD AND GAS. (Is that great or what? I think I'll incorporate it as one of the stops Kate and the cowboy make during their road trip.) Part of it had been converted into a small record store called House Rockers Record Shop.

Stopped in and asked the saleslady for some ”back porch music,” meaning foot stompin' on the boards with one guitar and two guys splitting a 40 of ”Olde E” malt liquor, or maybe some white corn whiskey. She laughed. Nope, she had none of that. So I loaded up on Steve Earle, Little Axe, and Lyle Lovett, plus a CD called Blues in the Mississippi Night. I had a good day of music ahead.

If you were to stop and be a ”tourist,” take lots of pictures, etc., this trip could and should take about a year. I only have a few more days, which doesn't seem like that long anymore.

Greenville is like any other port town with gambling. I'm staying at a Comfort Inn as the Days Inn looked sketchy. I stopped at a Papa John's to get my pizza fix and there was a group of deaf people there, about eight in all, old and young (very young, about three), black and white, all signing to one another. Made me think of Jody, wis.h.i.+ng she was with me 'cause she signs pretty well. There was a little boy there (around seven or eight) who became fascinated with me 'cause I kept making funny faces at him, and then he began to sign to me. I only know a few signs, thanks to Jody, but they're all dirty. So I opted for the universal wave. He stopped being interested, seeing as how I was illiterate.

I do believe I am in love with Mississippi and Louisiana. Listening to the CD of the old blues guys shooting the s.h.i.+t and talking about experiences they've had and heard about, how the blues came about, and how difficult it has been and still is to be black in America, it's something I have no idea about (being a white girl). But here in the heart of it all, as a female traveling alone, I have caught a very small glimpse of the South, hearing the voices, seeing the faces, driving by the places where so much pain was caused and so much emotion was stirred up.

I smile at everyone. (Because I want to.) The manager at Papa John's Pizza offered me a free Coca Cola as I was waiting. I thought that was mighty nice. I'm all a-jumble right now thinking about this history.

It just hit me that I honestly have no interest in visiting the plantation houses. I felt so strange when I went to Santa Fe a few years back, as if I were treading on the souls of dead Indians. I hated it there. It made me feel agitated, edgy, quick to anger. I'm sure that the old P. houses are probably gorgeous, but at what price for glory?

I heard someone on Mississippi talk radio going on about the possible change in the flag and how, although he claimed not to be racist in the least, he feels that if someone can walk around with a Malcolm X T-s.h.i.+rt, why can't he drive around with a rebel flag in his truck? It's all too much, and I doubt that we'll see any kind of real healing in our lifetime. These memories, our legacy, will go on and on, pa.s.sed from generation to generation, hatred for no reason other than skin color (on both sides). The mistrust. The sadness. The guilt. The anger. It makes me want to cry a Mississippi River's worth of tears for us all.

Time to wash up and crawl into bed. Will send some more pages to you tomorrow.

From: Carrie

To: Mama

Sent: Jan. 5, 2001

Subject: MEMPHIS!!!

I'm here! However, the hotel room I stayed in last night in Greenville was absolutely gross. Whoever was there just before me must've had a horrific case of B.O. I opened the windows as wide as they'd go, but it didn't help much. Happy to get out of there this morning. I hopped onto Highway 61 and headed toward Clarksdale and the ”crossroads of the blues.”