a floating brain

For our one year anniversary the HyWy and I decided to do something very relaxing and calming.  We went to the Float Center

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.  At the Float Center I (the HyWy got an hr massage and then did the following) spent one hour a 4' by 8' tank, which was filled with 10.5" of water.  The water has 1000 lbs. of medical grade epsom salt dissolved in it.  There is sufficient salt in the water that it is impossible to drown.  If you turn over and lay face down in the water then your eyes will start to burn and you will flip over again.  The water temperature is set so that at a certain point one loses awareness of where their body ends and where the water begins in effect becoming a "floating brain."  Naturally this is a very unusual experience, but we have all been there once before in the womb.  As I lay in the tank my first reaction was to hold my head up and thus my neck was stiffened.  However, as time passed my body relaxed and the most amazing feeling was laying there in total darkness, hearing my heartbeat, and not moving at all.  Eventually I began to drift into sleep and before I knew it my time was up.  The benefits of floating range from the obvious (muscle relaxation, back pain, etc.) to the less obvious (hangover relief, jet lag relief, stress relief, increased learning, increased creative thinking, etc.).  I would definitely consider going back to try this again.  What surprises me is that it's not a very well known procedure, but it is so simple (the fact that you can float in the Dead Sea is nothing new) and it has been around for almost 60 years. 

In case people are interested in going locally to the Float Center, which is off of 23rd Ave. and 880 in Oakland tell them that you heard about it from the HyWy (well use her real name).  I particularly enjoyed the Float Center, because she explained the whole concept very well, has a nice shower for people to use before and after, and prepares tea for you after your float.  For those in other parts of the country (or world) check out this website for locations near you. 

A Different Kind of Christmas Eve

Last night we had a different kind of Christmas Eve.  When my cousin's plans to come to California fell through due to bad weather this week we were left with slim pickings on what we could do.  Most of the plans had already been set and we really wanted to do something different.  So we went to a friend's house where every week on Wed night for the past 9-10 years there is a meditation, discussion (or guest speaker), a wonderful homecooked meal, and many close friends. 

The guest speaker was a very respected and revered Buddhist monk (from whom we have a handwritten quote on our wall in the apartment).  The theme of his talk was, "Who Am I?"   Our individual self was broken into three different worlds, which we are a part of.  There is the material world, which consists of material possessions connected to us (house, car, clothes, etc.), our jobs (lawyer, sound engineer, etc.), age, race, and other external things that define us.  There is the relational world where we are sons of mothers, siblings of siblings, employees of employers, and other relationships we cultivate.  Lastly there is the spiritual world, which consists of our imagination, sense of humor, sense of wonder, storytelling abilities, and other abstract qualities that we possess.  I think this is a very interesting breakdown of the individual, because there are so many ways to answer the question, "who are you?"  It never occurred to me how many different ways I could respond to that question.  Perhaps it's the engineer in me, but if asked I would always answer with the appropriate literal answer. 

On the day of the meditation we received an email from the organizer briefly touching on the topic at hand.  I then thought about who I am and how in my mind I am a walking contradiction.  I don't say this in a negative or positive way, but in a truthful way.  I consider myself an environmentalist, but I work in the mining industry.  I love heavy metal, but I also love jazz.  My general disposition is happy and go lucky, but many of my favorite books, movies, songs, etc. are extremely dark.  These were just a few of the realizations I had and now as I write them I think that maybe I'm not so much of a contradiction as much as a balanced person. 

I'm a scrooging Grinch

Christmastime or the holiday season is an interesting time.  There is only one way to embrace and accept the "spirit" and that is with red and green, bows, decorations, Christmas music, things smelling like cinnamon or cloves, and other typical associations.  The office is decked out with Christmas decorations and I made the mistake of saying that it smelled strange (cloves and cinnamon) so the grinch comments came out of the woodwork.  A few days later I commented on the annoying Christmas music that was playing on a CD outside an office.  Again the barrage of grinch and scrooge comments.  The HyWy made a good comment about the idea of Christmas spirit.  We were discussing whether people truly know what it is beneath all this pomp and circumstance when they are younger.  Once people get older and recognize the real meaning of it then do they still remember it?  The conversation about the real meaning of Christmas made me think about why if one doesn't celebrate Christmas significantly are they expected to wholeheartedly buy into the "spirit"?  I feel like I understand the real meaning of Christmas, but I don't enjoy the rest of it (at least at this point in my life) and during the holiday season I feel like an outcast.  Of course if and when there is a kid in our lives I'm sure things will change, because in my mind the rest of Christmas is the most fun with a kid.  For the time being I will happily go along with being a Grinch (or at least the Grinch at the end of the story). 

...Before the Devil Knows You're Dead

I love this traditional Irish toast, which also happens to be the title of an amazing movie.  The full toast goes as follows, "May you be in Heaven a half hour before the Devil knows you're dead."

The movie, which is directed by Sidney Lumet (none of whose movies I have seen before, surprisingly).  The movie can be described as a suspense thriller or a melodrama depending on whether you ask the actors or the director.  The thing that really struck me about this movie is how it positions two different characters at different places in their lives at the same point of absolute desperation.  The common connection (besides being brothers) is that they are both driven to extreme measures to solve financial problems.  The plot follows two brothers who out of financial need decide to rob their parents jewelry store.  When things go wrong and their mother is killed their father resolves to find those who committed the crime.  That is the same type of summary you would read on the back of the movie so I didn't give anything major away.  To me the title suggests that hope that you stay just one step ahead of the "devil" who I this case is the raging father.  However, after watching the movie I'm more convinced that one of the brothers is the real devil.  The real devil is not the one who is on our heels chasing us, but the one who is manipulating us to do his work for his benefit. 

Cadillac Records

We saw Cadillac Records last night and I loved it.  I know that there are plenty of people out there that would say that they aren't interested in this movie, but I think it's a movie that everyone should see.  As I said in some of my posts during the BBQ and Blues trip I think anyone who likes modern American music can appreciate and understanding of the blues.  I've already gone into that aspect previously and this is about the movie. 

At times the plot seemed a bit weak and the dialogue certainly left a lot to be desired.  What drew me to the movie was simply the music.  What I left the movie thinking about besides the music was the performances.  Plenty of praise has been bestowed upon Beyonce for her spectacular portrayal Etta James, but I think one of the under appreciated roles in this movie was Mos Def as Chuck Berry.  Mos Def truly conveys the charisma and the stage presence that I presume that Chuck Berry had in his prime.  Another thing I like about historical movies such as Cadillac Records, Ray, or even Almost Famous (which was highly fictionalized version of real events) is the opportunity to make subtle references to other historical figures.  In Forrest Gump there was a passing scene with "Elvis", in Almost Famous it was Jimi Hendrix, in Ray it was Ray Charles himself, and in Cadillac Records...well you'll have to see (but one of the best and most subtle references comes in the first 10 minutes).  As a friend who came with us to movie made another good point about one really feels like they are there in the fields in Mississippi, the clubs in Chicago, or the studios with these legends.  Cadillac Records is definitely a movie that will surely leave the audience walking out with a new appreciation for whatever type of music they like. 

Childhood

On the radio the other day they did a bit where they asked listeners to phone in and say what they missed most about their childhood.  The answers varied from the obvious (summer vacation or an "easy schedule") to the most common answer...innocence (which was what I would have answered). 

I miss not having the cynicism and sarcasm that many of us develop as adults.  I miss not being so jaded.  As an adult often anything we see we either question or know it is fake.  It was awesome being a kid and wishing you could be Han Solo when you grow up.  Imagine that conversation today, "Wait you want to be a selfish smuggler who has no permanent home and risks his life with every shipment?"  Or believing unconditionally that what you saw on TV or the movies, read, or heard about was true.  Remember when, "Brian told me that he heard from Matt that if you don't hold your breath the whole time you are in the tunnel your soul will be stolen!"  Naturally today it sounds ridiculous, but I miss that.  I also miss "making" a fishing pole out of a stick, summer vacations, and the lack of responsibility. 

Something to be thankful for...

They always say that you don't appreciate something until you no longer have it.  When the HyWy and I did the cleanse I realized how much I loved food.  When I moved to college I realized how much I missed homemade Indian food.  These were things that I took for granted until I no longer had them. 

When I first moved to California my cousin and his wife lived here.  While they were here I didn't see them as often as I would have liked to, because it was difficult to coordinate schedules and we lived far apart.  Last year they moved out of state and now as the holiday season is here I have realized how much I miss having family nearby.  I miss being able to go over and do nothing with family.  I can neither explain nor put my finger on why I enjoy spending time with relatives.  I think that spending time with friends is often more structured or there is more of an agenda.  It's not like relatives don't have their own lives and that their time is not precious, but there is simply a more casual feeling.  Maybe it is because I have never grown up around relatives and now that I have experienced what it is like to have them nearby I find I like it more.  Whatever the feeling I know that both the HyWy and I are in agreement that we would definitely want to eventually settle down more permanently somewhere near family, whether immediate or relatives it doesn't matter. 

I am thankful for a large and wonderful immediate and extended family. 

Slumdog Millionaire

We just saw Slumdog Millionaire over the weekend at the conclusion of the South Asian Film Festival.  I loved it.  I can definitely say that it was one of the best movies I have seen this year. 

It was vivid and captivating.  The story and the feeling of watching it reminded me of City of God, which was equally brutal.  One of the reviews I read said that the movie was bland and somewhat predictable until the final 30 minutes.  I disagree because I felt like I was thrown in full speed ahead from the first scene.  There has been much praise lavished upon the main star, Dev Patel, but I would argue that the real stars are the kid actors.  The story is told through a series of flashbacks and the actors who play the two main characters in their younger years truly steal the show.  Even if you don't like the story and find it predictable there is still one more reason to see this: the scenery.  I'm not talking about sweeping vistas and beautiful Indian countrysides...rather the exact opposite.  Being that the main character is a "slumdog" the majority of the flashbacks take place in the slums of Mumbai (or so we are led to believe).  As the kids race through the narrow alleys and gullys I could help but remember my own experiences in Ahmedabad.  Of course I wasn't running from anyone or for that matter racing through the slums for any reason.  However, the feeling of claustrophobia and homes/stores/stalls stacked precariously on top of each other made me feel like I was there.  Scenes like those could not be done on a sound stage no matter how big and I applaud Danny Boyle's decision to do so much on location.  There are definitely a handful of scenes that made me turn away or cover my eyes, but getting through them was worth it to see what was overall such a wonderful movie.

Berkeley vs. Houston

When I moved out to California I was coming from Atlanta, which at the time seemed like a wonderful change in political perspective. 

After living in California for a few years I realized that I really liked Oakland when compared to Berkeley.  Many have given me my share of a hard time for why I dislike Berkeley.  Only recently did it hit me.  I don't like Berkeley for the same reason I don't like Houston.  As I write this I can sense the shock most Berkelites would feel at being compared to a town like Houston.  In Houston there was only one way...the conservative way.  Similarly in Berkeley there is only one way...the ultra liberal way.  Whether I agree with the conservative or ultra liberal way is irrelevant.  What is relevant though is the reaction one gets in either city when they express an opinion, ask a question, or even feign interest in something that goes against the norm.  In both situations I definitely feel an air of intolerance and condescension towards anything that is not what is 'typical'.  That is precisely why I have trouble with Berkeley and why I compare it to Houston.  At least when I lived in Atlanta I knew who I disagreed with and I wasn't made to feel bad for holding the opinions, beliefs, morals, etc. that I did. 

Funny now I'm in California pining for Atlanta. 

on the hunt

The job hunt that is.  There is something entertaining about reading job postings.  The one qualification that always cracks me up is, "excellent oral and written communication skills."  I would particularly enjoy seeing the position that requires poor or even average communication skills.  I wonder what job that would be.  Security guard on a night shift?  Truck driver?  Production line operator?  Not to say that any of these jobs are bad jobs, but they strike me as the type that would not be very communication intensive.  Will post more job search related musings as I come across them.

Props to the props

I'm on a posting rampage…there's just this one and one more that I have to put up. 

 

I have another rant from Election Day that didn't really fit in with the flow of the previous post.  After reading the propositions and the various measures I was left in the dark.  There was a very insightful and informative guide published, which provided pro and con arguments for each proposal.  Unfortunately I feel like the lawyers really have the upper hand on this one, because often the arguments were "vote yes…we won't raise taxes" vs. "vote no…they will raise taxes".  How does one make a decision on that?  I'm sure I can be more informed, but the props and measures are written in such a convoluted way I don't think I could make heads or tails of them.  Obviously I'm not talking about the straightforward ones like gay marriage, but rather the ones like alternative energy rebates and victim's rights bills.  Sometimes it felt as though we just had to pick the lesser of two evils not the better of rights.  Now I think I have a little more clarity on why I am so apathetic towards the political process, because it is so difficult to navigate. 

Apathy to Hope

It took about a day to let the enormity of it sink in, but I think I need to write about what Tuesday night felt like.  I went for a run Tuesday evening and I was thinking to myself about how glad I was that the election was over.  As I ran I considered all the apathy I had towards the political process and voting in general.  I think that in my limited perception (assuming I became aware it around 12 or 13 years ago) of the federal political arena I have seen only two elections and I have trouble saying that I have seen much good come of it all.  My apathy towards voting stems from not only the fact that I don't think it will matter because of where I live, but also because I question whether in so many years what positive change has our country made.  I wondered whether that makes me unpatriotic.  I wondered whether that made me a bad citizen.  Before the flaming starts let me say that I did vote regardless of my apathy.  I can't say I know why I voted though. 

 

However, then after my run I read a post on one of my favorite blogs.  Irrespective of what I feel I think I can certainly get behind the sentiment echoed in that post. 

 

Still later when President-Elect Obama was announced the winner I sat in shock.  I could not believe that it had actually happened.  The HyWy and I discussed the impact of what we were watching play out.  In the last 10 years our generation has seen two events (one good and one bad) that will forever shape American policy.  Another thing that occurred to me was that my concern is that President-Elect Obama will have to do and achieve so much during his term to be seen as more than just "the first African American president".  Don't get me wrong I think being the first African American president is a good thing in itself, but I don't want to see that define his presidency.  I think he has so much more potential. 

 

Sorry this post was a bit disjointed, but there was obviously a large range of thoughts I was trying to convey. 

The Brief History of the Dead

While out of town for the weekend I finished a book called The Brief History of the Dead and one of the most interesting aspects of it to me was the take on the afterlife.  Apparently in many cultures in Africa the thought is that people live on in some form of the afterlife as long as there is someone on Earth who remembers them.  Once everyone on Earth that remembers you passes away (or worse yet forgets you) then you move on to the next phase of your existence.  I don't intend to debate what the next phase of life or our existence is, but rather to consider the enormity of everyone you can remember living on as long as you (or someone else) continue to remember them.  Also when I say you remember someone this doesn't necessarily mean you know their name.  At one point in the story one of the characters attempts to make a list of everyone he remembers in his life.  His list rapidly grows to 5 figures.  Often when I let my mind drift I think about all the people that I directly knew and from there I think about the people I have encountered in my life and it just goes on from there.  If I thought I remember people well then the HyWy is way beyond me and her list could easily go into the 6 figures.  I wonder how long your list would be. 

Letting it get to you

Twice in the last week or so I have let situations get the better of me.  The first time was when the HyWy and I were looking for a parking spot on a beautiful weekend day when everyone must have been heading into the city.  We were trying to park at BART and in the parking lot was a woman on her cell phone talking with her friend.  I should also mention that she was standing in the only available parking spot in the lot.  As I drove up I could see a confrontation coming.  She apologized and said that her friend is 'on her way'.  I argued for a bit knowing full well that the car has no leverage in a situation like this.  I cursed at her and drove off.  As I was driving away I pondered my other courses of action.  Someone suggested that I should have let the HyWy out of the car to argue with her.  Another suggestion was that I should have stayed where I was thus blocking her friend from entering the spot.  I wondered what a more grounded or centered individual would have done in my situation.  What annoyed me more than the absurdity of the situation was that I let it get to me.  Later that day just thinking about it would get me riled up. 

The second situation saw me buy a ticket to Peru for work travel.  After making the reservation on Thurs. and not seeing the ticket issued after more than a day I was concerned.  I received a phone call on Fri evening informing me that the airline was having trouble getting in touch with my bank to verify my address and to call the airline back during business hours.  On Monday morning I called my bank to find out the problems.  The bank informed me that there were no problems.  My address was correct, I was well under my limit, etc.  I called the airline and gave them the phone number they desired as well as informed them that everything is in order.  They checked and said the address was verified, but that my card was being denied.  This is where my ability to stay grounded started to be pushed.  I asked why and was only told that they didn't know and that I needed to talk to my bank.  I hung up the phone and called the credit card.  The credit card said that no one had contacted them about anything and that I had no denied charges.  Without going into the back and forth I will say that this exchange went on several more times.  Each time the credit card blamed the airline and the airline blamed the credit card.  No one would tell me why my card was being 'denied' nor would the denial show up on the credit card.  At the time I clearly remember being aware of how my limits were being strained and I was on the edge of unleashing on someone.  Finally I asked myself why I was doing this.  At any point in this experience I could have given in and charged the ticket to a different card, such as my company's credit card.  I realized I was holding out and fighting the battle because I knew I was right.  What difference did it make that I was right?  I was so furious through this experience that you could tell it on my face right away.  I didn't want to give in to the airline's ridiculousness.  Finally I did the only thing I could see that would make sense.  I cancelled the ticket on one airline and I bought it on another.  The most amazing part is that while I was still on the phone with the new airline the charge (on the new airline) showed up on my card (after spending 7 hrs on the phone with various people trying to get the old charge to show up).  After all that I was informed on Thurs. that my trip would be postponed indefinitely. 

The moral: as easy and obvious it is to say let go of things, don't sweat the little things, don't let it get to you, etc.  It's never that easy when you are in the situation. 

A Thousand Splendid Suns

I finished reading the second Khaled Hosseini book. 

Normally I don't feel particularly emotional when I read books, but this book was different.  At one point I told the HyWy that I was getting so upset by it that I didn't know whether I would be able to finish it.  The story portrays the life of two women in Afghanistan during the revolution, Taliban occupation, and post Taliban.  Going into it I knew that it would likely have an extremely in your face picture of the life of women in during these times.  What I didn't expect was how it would affect me.  At a certain point I knew the author was painting a wonderful picture of life in Kabul, the countryside, or anything else that I should appreciate but all I wanted to do was continue moving forward in the story.  I found myself eventually glazing over descriptions in order to find out what happened next. 

One interesting result of this was an awareness of my perception of violence.  For whatever reason I enjoy movies and TV shows like CSI, The Bone Collector, etc.  I have almost grown complacent to the violence in these shows.  Domestic violence is an entirely different story.  The descriptions of the situations, beatings, etc. were so vivid that I couldn't read through them. 

Without pretending I understand what is like to be a woman reading a story like this much less a woman in a situation like these I will say that I felt like I was riding this rollercoaster with the characters.  When things started to look up and there seemed to be a positive change approaching I got excited, but then when the opposite happened I felt crushed like it had happened to me.  I don't recall ever feeling emotionally connected to the characters. 

The scariest part in reading this story was knowing that the fanaticism continues to exist today.  The fanaticism that I speak of is not exclusive to Islamic culture.  I know there are fundamentalists in every religion and the means might be different, but the spirit behind it is always the same. 

Who watches the Watchmen?

I just finished the Watchmen by Alan Moore, which I bought as a present to myself during the cleanse.  It's a hard task to write a review of a book (or in this case graphic novel) that has received the praise of so many before me.  What can I say that has not been said?  How do I say something from a place of honesty without looking like I'm just joining the masses?  I don't know. 

One of the things that I most liked about this story was how well it was layered.  The main story has a secondary character who is mostly seen sitting at a newspaper stand reading another comic book.  Throughout the main story we see this character, but he has almost no character development.  The only purpose this character serves is to read the comic book, which we occasionally see panels from.  The brilliance of the writers is shown through the 'comic within a comic', because as action takes place in the main story panels in the 'comic within a comic' echo words that relate.  It is so difficult to explain, but as I came to realize it it very quickly became one of my favorite parts of the story. 

I also enjoyed the characters themselves.  It was wonderful to see flawed 'superheroes'.  I have seen the dark side of Superman in Superman III and I have also seen the dark side of Spiderman or even Batman, but this is different.  In those movies we see a very stark contrast between the good side and the bad side of the superhero.  However, here the writer paints a more human portrait where they have more human emotions and feelings so that their dark side isn't as dark.  It makes the characters more easy to relate to. 

There is a lot to be said for what seems to be a dated story, which so easily fits into the reality of today (20 years after it's original release).  At the time the world was at the end of the Cold War and the characters in the story echo feelings of fear, anxiety, and wonder at what the next day might bring.  Though the atmosphere has changed and there might be new 'enemies' I think that the feelings of the general population haven't changed significantly. 

Simple Pleasures

A beautiful day in Oakland today and now that we are both eating (and in town) I was able to indulge one of my favorite Sunday morning activities: the Jack London Farmer's Market.  While a nice day helps nothing makes me more happy than spending a lazy Sunday morning with the HyWy wandering through the Farmer's Market trying to come up with meals for the next week.  I enjoy it because we aren't rushing to finish so we can do something.  I enjoy it because it's not overcrowded or noisy.  I enjoy it because we get to taste the fresh veggies and fruits.  I enjoy it because it is on the waterfront.  It is one of those simple pleasures that make me happy.

The road ends...

Well the trip is over. Though excited to go home I am sad to end the trip. I had a great time just meandering through the trip and hanging out with Dad. The most memorable parts of the trip were the drives and the memorable meals. For me the museums were very interesting, but the real gem of the trip was the company. I don't know that many people that take father son, father daughter, mother son, or mother daughter trips but I would urge most anyone to do it. Dad and I were contemplating why more people don't do this. My speculation was that often there are personality conflicts and other times it is a lack of common interests. Next I have to figure out where to go with Mom. Both Dad and the HyWy have been asking where I would go with Mom. Even I have been asking Mom where would she like to go. Who knows, but I'm looking forward to it.

Stax and the Natchez Trace Parkway

On our final real day of the trip (ie doing new stuff) we went to visit the Stax Museum of Soul. The story of Stax is an amazing one. Stax was a recording studio that brought us some very famous musicians and songs. Most notable of the Stax family to the general population are the late great Otis Redding and Isaac Hayes. However, there are many more songs as I found out that once I listened to them I recognized. The beauty of what Stax did was that they were founded by a white owner who located them in a predominantly black neighborhood or at least a neighborhood that was shifting in it's demographic. This at a time when racial tensions throughout the south were running very high. It was repeatedly told to us that Stax was an integrated company from top to bottom (with eventually shared ownership between black and white people). Many of the musicians at Stax said that they did not have any conscious realization of the racial boundaries that they were breaking. Unfortunately for Stax all of the good that they were doing would change almost instantly with the assassination Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Subsequently Stax's top star, Otis Redding, would die along with several members of his backing band in a plane crash. These two events were a major blow for Stax. They would go through several ownership changes and strangely enough one of them saw Stax's masters owned by the legendary studio from Berkeley, Fantasy. Listening to a CD of the great soul hits from Stax the instantly recognizable Stax rhythm section and horns sound phenomenal. After we finished up at Stax I asked one of the people at the ticket counter where we could get some good food. He directed us to a great soul food restaurant around the corner. Inside we found a restaurant that had been open (albeit not continuously) since 1942. We were informed that Dr. King would often eat there and that he favored the peach cobbler.

Dad eating some salmon croquettes, black eyed peas, and okra.

I had turkey, dressing, mashed potatoes/gravy, and collards.

As we began our drive home we plotted what route we would follow. The obvious choice was the interstate south to Baton Rouge and then the interstate again west to Houston. However, this has not been a trip of doing the obvious. We decided to stop in Jackson for the evening (thus allowing us to watch the UGA/'Bama game). The next morning we got out of Jackson and hit the Natchez Trace Parkway. The parkway is a meandering 2 lane road that goes through fields and is tree lined. Judging by all the historic markers we saw I think many of the endless fields were likely old Civil War battlefields. This and one of our drives on the Great River Road where we drove through cotton fields following the Mississippi were two of my favorite moments of the trip. Dad made a great point that both drives were beautiful and were not particularly quick to get from one point to the next. In that way they were similar to driving on Hwy 1, but the major difference was the ease of driving these roads without a sheer dropoff on oneside. So if you ever find yourself with time to kill while driving through Mississippi consider driving the Natchez Trace Parkway or the Great River Road you will not regret it.

Football

This is the final post for the evening as I have been doing a lot of writing.

Death Valley. Enough said.

On this trip we have covered most of the best things in the south: blues, bbq, fried chicken, and now college football. For dinner tonight we went to a sports bar that was next door to the hotel. Few things compare to seeing a college football game at a bar in the south. I'm sure my South American friends will say go see a soccer game at a Brazilian bar or the Bostonians will say go see a Red Sox game at a Boston bar or even I will say what about the time I saw a Indian/Pakistan cricket match in Calcutta. Fair enough all of these are greater experiences. However, my favorite experience is a college football game at a bar in the South or preferably in person in the South. We went at halftime to see UGA vs. Alabama after having seen the first half in the hotel. The bar was filled because at the same time Miss. State was playing LSU. We only had 3 screens for our game and there were two conveniently free seats right in front of the TV showing our game. Our game was a blow out and I was happy. What I love best though in the South is the unwavering loyalty. Miss. State was in no real position to beat LSU, but their fans were in for the long haul. Even when they were really pretty much done the fans were still there. In any other conference Miss. State would have probably fared pretty well, but what do you do when there are 3 teams in the top 5? It should be noted that there WERE 3 teams in the top 5 and as of Monday there will no longer be 3 SEC teams in the top 5 much less the top 10. The part that made my day was when we walked into the bar and were trying to figure out what screen was showing our game. I saw a guy with an Alabama shirt and went to ask him. He was so excited and friendly. He immediately shook my hand and asked me if I was an Alabama fan. When I told him that I wasn't and was a Georgia Tech fan it didn't matter at all to him. We both agreed that it didn't matter as long as I wasn't a UGA fan. He offered to let us sit down with him, but then we would've had our backs to the game. It's times like this that I miss the South the most.

National Civil Rights Museum

I have been to the site of Gandhi's assassination, the MLK center in Atlanta, and now the National Civil Rights Museum. I don't think the atrocities of the civil rights movement will ever stop shocking me. The stories, images, and videos that I saw at the museum were not that different than what I saw or read before. However, they still stun me. Dad was very much in the country during the Civil Rights Movement and he mentioned how he avoided many of the cities in the south. I will say that for all the problems that the South caused during that time frame they have come a long way. Never on this trip have I felt unsafe and never in so many years of living in the South did I feel significantly discriminated against. Many people were worried about us traveling through Mississippi and I think that it unfortunately has an undeserved reputation in that sense.

However, I digress. One thing that has taken my curiosity is wondering what happened to many of the people that we see in the famous pictures of the Civil Rights Movement. People on both sides of the debate. What happened to the kid pouring the glass with the printed shirt? What about the people sitting at the counter? What about the girl shouting? Obviously I'm asking mostly about the aggressors, but that is because I'm wondering whether they ever changed their views. I wonder if they realized what they were advocating.

The museum is on the site of the Lorraine Motel which is where Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated. The motel is remarkably well preserved. My understanding is that there was a squatter that was still staying at the motel after a number of years when they were trying to get the museum started there. I believe the squatter was kicked out and is now living across the street still campaigning to get the museum closed. Many of the modern assassinations have been so well documented that you can literally trace minute by minute or step by step the victim's last moments. I found the same to be true at the site of Gandhi's assassination and the result is that it is very surreal to be in that spot. The Civil Rights Museum has also acquired the building where James Earl Ray resided and shot Dr. King from. I was very amazed to find out that they also have on display all of the evidence from Mr. Ray's trial. I guess at this point with the death of Mr. Ray there is no real point in keeping the evidence from the public eye.

Why Memphis?

Many people have asked why we went to Memphis. The reason is simple because this is where almost all of American music is rooted. With the exception of Detroit and Motown, which is a different sound I can't think of any city in the country that has been so instrumental in American music. I can honestly say that someone can pick any genre of music or any artist in existence today and we could trace their influences back to Memphis. Of course I'm not talking about classical (as it predates Memphis by a few hundred years), reggae (music from foreign countries doesn't count), jazz (in my mind one of two styles not mainly based from Memphis), and country (the second style not based from Memphis, but with a very significant influence in Memphis) but rather about hip hop, rap, rock, metal, alternative, etc. For example I will consider two very different groups...First Metallica whom I really enjoy. Metallica's early metal influences included Motorhead, Queen, and Led Zepplin. Queen and Led Zepplin were both influenced by The Who. The Who started out as a band playing R&B covers of songs from the US that they found by mail ordering records from abroad. The Who, The Rolling Stones, and The Beatles all got their start by playing covers of R&B songs. Modern rap or hip hop is the same way. Consider a hip hop star like Jay-Z who likely grew up listening to all kinds of soul records and the connection is even easier. So for people to say that they don't understand why I would take a trip to Memphis I think the real question should be why wouldn't you?

Museum of Rock and Soul and Gibson

Today we went to the Museum of Rock and Soul and the Gibson Factory. After we finished those two we even went to the National Civil Rights Museum, but that will need it's own post. The Museum of Rock and Soul was pretty impressive, but the thing that was so enjoyable about it as Dad pointed out is that we could listen to the progression of songs over the years. It started with the the blues of Robert Johnson and Charley Patton and went through the Stax years of Isaac Hayes and Otis Redding.

This was really where I started to realize that there are so many songs that other people wrote that I have heard in more famous versions and enjoy. Dad and I were discussing what we thought the difference between Motown and Stax was, because they were the predominant soul labels during the 60s and 70s. I think that Motown had a more refined sound and a smoother sound. Stax had a very raw sound. Stax was taking instrumentalists that grew up on blues and other influences that were driving rock and roll and then using that as the backbone to their soul music. Again at the Soul Museum we saw a whole church group of ladies find the song of their younger years and they were just screaming and shouting about how much they loved it. Despite being annoying it was at the same time endearing to see them.

From the Soul Museum we walked across the street the Gibson Factory. This was an amazing experience to see how the guitars come together. A Gibson guitar has an entirely different look and I imagine feel to it when compared to a Fender or for that matter any other electric guitar. It is interesting doing something like this particularly when I don't play guitar, but I feel like it is something that I still get to some degree. I think the pictures for this tour tell more of a story so I'll leave it at that.

Gibson Guitar Factory

This was a really interesting experience. As Dad said I've been to a distillery, car factory, jelly bean factory, and maybe a few others. I find factories very interesting. The difference here is that there is no manufacturing line per se. These guitars are not mass produced. They make 45 or so per day. At capacity I think they can make 100.

The innards of a hollow body electric.

All the various hollow bodies waiting to cure.

The machine the operator is running is a CNC machine (computer numeric control) and it is setting the holes for the electronic controls on the guitar.

Guitars ready to be machined.

Guitar necks prior to being added to the body. The fretboards are attached to the necks in Nashville. These necks are waiting to be sanded down and rounded. The tolerance on the necks is 1/64th of an inch.

Guitars as they are going through the painting process.

If you look very closely at the second or third guitar it has a red tag that says "CRAP". Well it says "SCRAP", but the point is that at this point the guitar has been completely made except for one major part (the electronics, the strings, and tuning). This is the final assembly point where the workers are all guitar players. The important thing to note is that the guitar that is marked scrap has had some defect in it that was noticed. Gibson does not release guitars onto the market that have any defects. So the guitar that is marked will likely be cut up on a bandsaw. FYI the guitars that come out of this factory will typically retail for a minimum 2000 dollars. I'd take the defect.

BBQ - Memphis style

This was where we went to have BBQ dinner at Central BBQ. Apparently they are known for their ribs, which is what Dad got. This is Memphis so I had to have the pulled pork.

That is a full rack of ribs. Daunting. The sauces were good. They had hot and mild.

Pulled pork, collards, mac n' cheese, and a pint. MMM Good!

Sun Studios Photos

Some photos from the main room at Sun Studios. Check out all that old analog gear. All the old gear including the mics still work.

Most people were taking pictures of Elvis and his memorabilia. I took this picture for the microphone.
This was the microphone that everyone was posing with and taking pictures with. Apparently there are only 6 of these mics in existence. It has been pointed out to me that I should clarify that this mic was used by Elvis and others, which is why it was the mic to take pictures with.

This picture almost captured the whole room. The control room is in front. It's amazing what kind of magic can come out of such a small room. It just goes to show that you don't need a big fancy studio with million dollars in gear to make a good record.

This mixing board is what U2 recorded three of the songs on their Rattle and Hum album onto. They did those songs at Sun as part of a visit into America's Heartland. One of the songs they sang with BB King. Being a big U2 fan the memorabilia aspect of this was significant, but what was more amazing was how small a board they used. I can't say I used a much bigger board when I was running shows in San Francisco.

America epitomized with the red convertible outside of Sun Studios. On the left the smaller building is the actual studio. On the right is a converted restaurant in which a lot of studio business was conducted.

Not sure why I took this photo as this wasn't even the studio entrance. It is the entrance to the restaurant next door. Oh well.

Sun Studios and BBQ

As we arrived and checked in to our hotel in Memphis I was amazed at how beautiful a city Memphis is. In many ways I keep having flashbacks to Atlanta. I see Memphis as Atlanta with a nice waterfront or riverfront. However, as I spent more than a few hours in Memphis I have come to see it as not as nice as Atlanta. There are a number of vacant buildings in the downtown area. Someone I know has asked me for my input on whether Memphis would be a good place to move. Initially I would have said yes without hesitation. The more I think about it though the more I am skeptical as I see so many vacant buildings, a downtown rampant with agressive panhandling, and isolated downtown areas that can easily make one feel unsafe. It's interesting coming from San Francisco where we are not at all new to the idea of panhandling the main difference though is that our panhandlers don't follow you down the street harrassing you. Or maybe they do and they reserve that for tourists which is what I am here.

After checking in we went to the Sun Studios to see where it all started. One of the most interesting things that I have learned on this trip is that so many of the classic songs that we associate with one artist or another were not originally written by who we think they were. Blue Suede Shoes...not Elvis...Carl Perkins. R-E-S-P-E-C-T...not Aretha...Otis Redding. At Sun it was interesting to see how excited these 50-60 year old women would get when listening to the hits of their teenage years. In the initial part of the tour we saw the upstairs museum and the digital cameras were in full effect. As the tour guide pointed out Elvis' jacket, high school diploma, guitar, and even social security card the camera snapping would not stop. Once we moved downstairs to the actual live room in which many historic sessions took place with Elvis, Johnny Cash, Jerry Lee Lewis, Carl Perkins, and countless others the real straining of the imagination started taking place. By some miracle Sam Phillips recollected (prior to his death) where Elvis stood when he recorded while still under contract with Sun and there is now a black X in that spot. Again everyone lined up to hold the actual microphone that was used and pose in that exact spot. With my particular interest being the engineers' skills and work I was taking photos of the old gear (which is still useable today) and was very interested in the control room (though we couldn't go in there). It was an amazing feeling thinking of all the visionary artists that had walked through the door and made such magic take place in that little room.

To work up an appetite prior to eating dinner I went for a run and what a great idea that was. For dinner we went to Central BBQ. As we walked in we decided it would be nice to have a beer outside on the deck and then go back and order dinner. By the time finished our beer there was a line out the door. I cannot begin to do the meal justice in a description so I will end here. Hopefully tomorrow I will update this post or do another post with photos of the meal and Sun.

Debate and food

Debate.fried green tomatoes.beer.fried chicken.venue: chicken joint so smokey from frying i can barely see straight.

National Civil Rights Museum

Just finished the Nat'l Civil Rights Museum. A stark contrast to music studios and music related sites.

CD Annex

On our way out of Clarksdale we stopped at a CD store. As we had gone during lunchtime the door was locked. We went next door thinking that maybe the entrance was through the restaurant. Inside in a packed restaurant the guy working the counter called out to the owner of the store and we interrupted his lunch. He came anyways and opened the store for us. Inside we did not find a CD store. What we found was a store that sold 45s and also happened to sell a few CDs. Most of the CDs on sale were blues, but in an effort to cater to the local market there were gospel, jazz, and even rap. The rap was relegated to a small stack in the display case and consisted of relatively new work by a rising group known as NWA. After discussing various artists and groups we found out that the owner was selling his personal collection of 45s after many years of collecting. He had moved out from the city after getting tired of 'city stuff' (which included traffic) and had set up shop in Clarksdale. It didn't seem to phase him in the least bit that he wasn't getting enough business. He was in this for the relaxed pace and the enjoyment of it. Apparently he has a online source for blues and a email newsletter at BluesSource.com so I will be checking that out.

Hot Tamales

Throughout our drive through Mississippi we had been seeing signs about "hot tamales". Knowing full well that these were not the candies that I used to eat in the movie theaters we set about investigating what the hot tamales were. They are exactly what we thought. Tamales. I didn't know that tamales were big with the non Mexican community. One story that we heard suggested that a black sharecropper and a Mexican migrant worker go to lunch on a cold November day. The sharecropper opens his pail and takes out some pork, corn bread, and greens all of which are cold. The migrant worker opens his pail and pulls out 3 tamales that are still hot from being wrapped in the corn husk. Soon they trade items like kids in elementary school. Then they trade recipes and thus the Delta tradition of the hot tamale is born.

In Clarksdale there are 5-6 hot tamale restaurants. However, there is one that is known as the place for hot tamales. Hicks. We had 6 hot tamales at Hicks. They are not too big (I was worried that they would be huge) and 6 was just the right number. The tamales are filled with a type of ground beef and were actually despite my concern not very spicy. I actually did not find them very different from Mexican tamales except in size. I was quite impressed though.

Pictures of Hicks to be added to this post later.

Clarksdale

The main reason for going to Clarksdale is that it is considered the birthplace of the blues. There are many reasons for this in my mind...it was home to Muddy Waters is probably one of the big ones.

After we settled into our shack and had a shower to clean up (at this point it having been more than a day since I had showered...and not out of choice, but rather because the previous hotel had funny colored water) we headed over to the Hopson Commissary for a drink. Along the way we met a gentleman from I have no idea where who is an artist that does beautiful portraits of various blues artists. That is one of the most enjoyable parts of this trip is all the interesting people we are meeting along the way. Often our conversations with them will barely last a few minutes, but their impact may last much longer. At the Commissary we found a much better beer selection than in Greenville and ordered a local Mississippi beer that was brewed with pecans. We took our beers and wandered around the enormous building, which looked like it used to be a barn. The barn was filled with an immense amount of junk or collectibles depending on your perspective. There were more than a few shrines to Eli Manning, which we found out were courtesy of the owner's husband who was an Ole Miss graduate. At the bar we struck up a conversation with the bartender and then another customer who checked in at the same time we did. It turned out that the customer lives in Fisherman's Wharf and drives a tour bus for a living. He has been doing so for nearly 25 years and lives in a rent controlled place walking distance from his 'office'. Interestingly, despite all of the driving his work entails he chose to embark on a driving tour to last up to a month or so from San Francisco to Yellowstone down to Atlanta to Mississippi (to check out where he was born) up to Memphis and then heading back home.

After finishing our beers we made our way to Morgan Freeman's blues bar, Ground Zero. I'm sure there are those out there that would argue we should have gone for a more localized or more authentic juke joint. I would agree. However, on a Wednesday night in Clarksdale there is very slim picking. At the bar we were able to order some food and more beer. I had fried catfish (you can't go through the Delta without some catfish) and Dad had a pulled pork sammich (that's how they spell it...props to the HyWy for picking up on that). We hung out at the bar and listened to Bill Abel and some session players for a few hours. It was fun to listen to real blues in the heart of it all. Mr. Abel was a great guitar player who even treated us to some amazing skills as he played a homemade guitar that he made out of a cigar box.

Eventually we made our way back to the shack and as we were driving I couldn't help but let my thoughts drift to the journeymen blues artists that would have been walking along these roads at this time 80 years or so ago. It was dark and the moon was barely lighting up the road. If you stopped and listened all you heard was cicadas and crickets. I'm sure I'm grossly romanticizing the whole situation, but for me it's just amazing to walk the ground they did and know in my mind that they would have recognized where we are today as their home.

The next morning we went to the Delta Blues Museum. The museum has seen more than it's share of heavy hitters roll through to pay their respects to the men that inspired them. One of the biggest inspirations was Robert Johnson. His story is as much of a fable or legend as they come in the world of blues. I won't go into the details of the story as I'm sure you can find a good explanation on line. The myth of Robert Johnson is one of the key building blocks of modern day Clarksdale. Everywhere you go there seems to be something about the crossroads or with his image on a painting. At the Blues Museum they had a wonderful amount of information on the other artists that do not receive the recognition that they deserve.

A post to follow on what we did for lunch.

Route 61

We spent the first night in Greenville and the next morning we drove out to Leland to see the Blues museum there. From Leland we happened to find out that the BB King museum in Indianola had just opened up. We backtracked and went to visit that museum.

The BB King museum was a remarkable testament to the life of an amazing man. Unfortunately time has claimed many of the most interesting artifacts leaving replicas or similar pieces for the museum to show. However, the most interesting parts are the video clips, interviews, and sound bytes. They are what really give the visitor a glimpse into the heart and soul of BB King. They show how caring and compassionate a person he is. I began to realize that he looks at all his fans as his children or grandchildren treating them with the same reverence. I find that to be a very admirable quality for someone of such fame as it is only too easy to become a jaded star in this age. In retaining this characteristic Mr. King also has managed to stay very close to his roots and returns to his hometown once a year to play free concerts.

From Indianola we headed north towards Clarksdale. On the way we happened to drive by a cemetary, which had the grave of another great blues guitar player, Charley Patton. I don't have any of his music, but I will be trying to find some. As we drove on we popped in a CD by BB King (Live at the Regal) and listened to some of his music. Earlier we had been listening to Leadbelly as well as Lightenin' Hopkins. The thing that I enjoyed most as I was listening to the music was as we drove through the region I really began to feel the music. It was somewhat hot (not July in the South hot) and we were driving along on empty roads. If I closed my eyes I could see Robert Johnson, Leadbelly, Muddy Waters, Willie McTell, or whomever walking along the side of the road with their guitar thrown over their shoulder. It's amazing how little the countryside has changed since the 1930s. With the exception of paved roads and perhaps more power lines or telephone lines I would be surprised if there is much difference. Whatever the reason I know that I'm immensely grateful that we did not take the Interstate and instead meandered our way along state highways.

The Shack Up Inn - Grounds

This is what the Shack Up Inn is trying to turn into a live music venue or a juke joint. I'm not sure what it was in it's past life, but it is definitely turning into something awesome.

Note the prayer benches as potential seating options.

I loved this poster. Great marketing ideas from a company that doesn't even market itself.
Texas blues legend on the wall there underneath the name of a great juke joint type of beer.
In the upper right you can see the stairs that lead to the upstairs loft accomodations. As rickety as this place might look in the pictures I would have no qualms about walking around anywhere as it was all pretty solid steel. They have done a very good job of renovating or rather just adding to the original construction to add some comfort while keeping the character.
The outside of the barn.

The entrance into the barn. The sign says it all.

More pictures to come. Next post is going to be more writing, because I have a lot that I want to write about.

The Shack Up Inn - Legends Cabin

Just outside Clarksdale (aka birthplace of the blues) we stayed at the Shack Up Inn. I would urge anyone who is passing through that area to stay there. Hell I would urge people that aren't passing through to change their trip so that they can pass through and stay there. The Shack Up has taken an old plantation, the Hopson plantation, and converted it into a lodging facility. They have brought in original sharecroppers shacks (not slave shacks judging by their size...according to Dad who has visited a slave shack while in Louisiana) from other plantations. The shacks were then slightly modified to include some modern conveniences: A/C, shower, standard plumbing, etc. However, as you can see from the photos the feel of the original shack has been maintained. The price to stay at the Shack Up was remarkably reasonable considering we had 1 queen bed, two twins, and a mini kitchen.

My bed. To the left of my bed was an old record player in the cabinet, but unfortunately it didn't work.

"Graffiti" that past visitors have left. Areas that were represented ranged from the local Mississippi or Memphis to the distant Iceland or Bangalore.

The "kitchen" and the view into the bigger bedroom. The door to the right goes to a side porch. On the wall to the left of the doorway in front are light brown patches, which are old newspaper that was apparently often used as insulation.
Looking back into my bedroom. Obviously take note of the past visitors' bottles.

Key point in this picture that brought much excitement to dad's eyes was the coffee maker and some coffee grounds that he found later.

More photos of the exterior and the rest of the grounds in subsequent posts.

Walkin' in Memphis...

Arrived in Memphis...First impression a beautiful city. Stunning riverfront. Reminds me of Lima's oceanfront on a smaller scale.

BB King's start...

Just saw the street corner where BB King first busked for change in Indianola,MS.

Day 1 Blues Tour

So we have settled down for the night in Greensville, MS on the first night of the Blues tour. We are trying to figure out what to do tomorrow. I think most of the day will be devoted to Clarksdale, MS and justifiably so as that is a central town to the blues.

Today was great as we left Houston on Hwy 59 to head in a north/northeast direction towards Marshall, TX. We passed a few towns whose names I recognized, but were of no other significance. We stopped in Marshall to check out Wiley College as I just saw The Great Debators. From there we continued along into Louisiana towards Shreveport. We stopped in Shreveport for lunch at a BBQ joint. Our conversation at the visitors center set the tone for what I anticipate will be many similar conversations...

Us: Do you know of a good BBQ restaurant?
Helpful visitor's center lady while pulling out a nice glossy brochure: Well there is this place, this one, and this is good also.
Us: Hmm they sound good, but where would YOU go?
Lady: Well if it was me then I would go to Jake's, but it's a real hole in the wall kind of dumpy place.
Us: That's what we are looking for! We want a place like that.

We made our way there and as promised it was a real hole in the wall place. The lady for some reason felt the need to yell at us to get our order. After ordering I began to contemplate the next few days of similar food...it's going to be an interesting time:). From Shreveport we made our way to Mississippi and crossed the river as we entered. As detailed in the previous post we wandered our way up Hwy 61 (current and original). Finally we arrived at a stopping point in Greenville. And what a stopping point it is. Our first room was mosquito ridden and our second room has not entirely clear water. After dropping our stuff off we went looking for a place for a beer. Who knew that would be such an ordeal. We found ourselves at a riverboat casino and they had a wonderfully deep selection of beer: Bud, Bud Light, Miller Light, Michelob, Miller Light with Lime. Dad actually asked whether they were serving the same beer at all their bars...of course they do. Finally we found another restaurant and had a light dinner of gumbo and a Killian's each before wandering around a little more and calling it a night. Until tomorrow...

Hwy 61 the Blues Highway

The cotton fields as we were driving up what was the "original" Hwy 61, which is now Hwy 1. Apparently one of the oldest roads in the US also. It was an amazing drive as there were no cars on the road. At this point we pulled off to see the cotton fields and it was dead quiet. The only thing you could hear was the wind. When a car was approaching you could hear it coming from at least a half mile or more away. I picked a little bit of cotton off of one of the plants and was amazed with how soft it was.



Looking down the road...how dead it was.