We set out to look for America....to tame the untamed west. How we ended up heading southeast rather toward Denver is anyone's guess. I suppose our actions were in keeping with the original idea....just to head out and go where the road takes us and see what we could see in a week.

Instead of turning west on I-70, we passed it by and stayed on I-55 south until reaching Tunica, Miss. There we found ourselves in Sam's Town casino behind penny slot machines. The betting was intense; a penny a pull. I'd even get extravagant and bump it up to 5 lines (5 cents) from time to time. Using this seasoned gambling technique, my wife Sue and I managed to play for about an hour and a half for 5 dollars each. They must hate people like us. I'm sure they were happy to make 10 whole dollars on us, but the energy consumption of each machine we played had to have an impact on their bottom line! On the other hand, our lungs did help to convert the thick casino smoke we breathed into fresh carbon dioxide for them...so...between them and us, we probably broke even on the deal. Ah, but if you consider how much Obama and his 'cap and trade' and 'green laws' are going to tax them for all that Carbon Dioxide pollution, I'm sure we came out much better in the deal. (Sorry..I have to slam that wannabe dictator, destroyer of our Constitution, and corrupt ideologue leftist radical whenever I can). I do it, because its true.

ahem....anyway, time moved along, and we were off to another stop on the road to somewhere...

We eventually left Sam's Town feeling that we had been nicely entertained during our time there. Note: I've seen the perils of gambling. I spent 30 months in Germany where slot machines were everywhere on our base and so were the addicts. For me, growing up was pretty meager. We were very poor. Any money I did have was made on the farms in the area. It was tough work. Money was hard to come by sometimes, so I could never bring myself to throw it away on frivolous things, except a new mohair sweater for my girlfriend, or a set of barbells and a Charles Atlas course. Luckily, my wife Sue never gambled much either, so, playing the penny machines at Sam's was just fun. The graphics that are produced by those electronic wonders when you do win are pretty awesome too.

The next morning we toured Memphis. If you ever get a chance to go there, don't miss the Sun Records tour. It's incredible....even if you're not a HUGE Elvis, Jerry Lee Lewis, Johnny Cash, Roy Orbison, or Carl Perkins fan. The small museum and studio are very interesting. The studio itself is mostly unchanged from back in the day. You get such a warm feeling there as they play the artist's early songs, and you come away with an understanding that these were just a bunch of very talented kids who were just trying to make a go of it. The personal photos of Sam Phillips (owner of the studio then) hanging in the small outer office showed Elvis as just that....a kid off the street who worked closely with Sam and his secretary who in-turn helped him begin his career; a poor kid with a great sound, looking to make a record and get a break. It was interesting how small the operation was and the level of 'mood' they created there with the recordings our tour guide played.

Even though the studio is now on the National Registry of historic places, many guitars of the greats are lined up in simple stands along the wall, and you can actually hold and sing into the large metal Shure microphone (big chrome 55S) that they all sang into, including Elvis, and pose for personal pictures. They don't allow kissing or dragging your tongue over it. That rule didn't bother me much, but Sue seemed a little disappointed. :) Elvis's DNA had probably been kissed, licked, and chewed off a million times since the 50's, probably by those same girls who used to faint and tear their blouses off at his performances...now aged like fine wine or a good Limburger, still hoping to mix their DNA somehow with his.

Back toward downtown, after walking the length of Beale Street in Memphis we stopped to eat some ribs at BB Kings place and to listen to the blues band playing there. We stayed awhile. There were also free bands up and down the street we listened to as well. It's an awesome place!

Sue had done the Graceland tour before, so we opted for the Gibson guitar factory tour, ate chocolates at the Peabody Place Mall, then headed on to Nashville.

Nashville was loaded with things to do, so we did as many as we could; The Ryman Theater (Grand Ole Opry original), Country Music Hall of Fame, The Gulch, The Ernest Tubb Record Shop, Painters Alley, Demo's Italian Eatery (fantastic food at low prices and the very best angel hair spaghetti with fresh Romano we had ever eaten!) We walked the streets and visited quite a few shops along the way. It's a great place to visit...laid back, easy to get around on their free inner-city bus line. We enjoyed it all. No need to sign up on a tour bus. This place is real easy to get around yourself.

Outside of Ernest Tubb's place a street musician (guitarist) named Doug Mays asked if we wanted to hear a song when we passed by. So, we listened while he played and sang an old Hank Williams tune. Turns out that Doug lived in New Orleans and lost everything when Katrina hit. "I'm just trying to make a livin'" he told us. He said that he had recently made an album with Russonics Studio in Nashville, so we bought one from him. He could have been lying, panhandling, a miserable old drunk, a gambling addict, or an actual Katrina survivor. No matter what he may have been, in my mind, he was....working, and doing what he knew best. It's one thing to ask for a handout. It's quite another to sing for your supper. Later, I searched his name online and found him in several places; articles about his new songs, and photos of him with other musicians at Russonics Studio in Nashville....just like he said.

Oh, by the way, I mentioned to him that I had written a bunch of lyrics over the years and he gave me his producers name to call to have them set to music professionally. That was really good of him. I just might do that. Now whenever I hear the name Ernest Tubb mentioned, I'll remember Doug Mays, the song he sang, and the 'tip' he gave me. Maybe I can pay that forward one of these days.

..we headed south to Murfreesboro, just for the heck of it.

We didn't know anything about Murfreesboro, but found that it was a great place to visit, chock full of history to see; civil war battlefields, museums, a beautiful old courthouse, tons of shopping places, etc. From Murfreesboro, we went down to Jack Daniels Brewery in Lynchburg, TN. It's a nice free tour that lasts 45 minutes or so and is very informative. No samples though. The town nearby sold Jack Daniels goods, but no liquor. It's a dry county! Who'd every guess!?!

Did you know that Jack Daniel makes their own charcoal that they use to filter their 'Tennessee Sippin' Whisky'? They burn the 'ricks' back there in the rick yard, right underneath their specially vented, EPA certified, properly filtered, low emission, hot ignition charcoal burners. I think Jack would turn over in his grave.

Heading back north, we visited the Stones Creek civil war battle field outside of Murfreesboro, and took a driving tour with a purchased cd playing that explained very clearly how the battles were fought and how they ended. With over 23,000 killed, wounded, or missing in that horrendous 3 day bloodbath, it was the highest percentage of casualties of any major battle in the Civil War, higher in absolute numbers than the famous bloodbaths at Shiloh and Antietam earlier that year. I think Gettysburg may have topped it in total battle deaths, but I'm not sure.

We're not civil war buffs at all. We just found this place; this extremely important civil war battlefield and cemetery, and learned a lot about what went on there.

The visitors center is new and wonderful. It has a theater, gift shop, and many displays throughout. While driving down paved paths through the fields listening to the cd with recreated sounds of battle, it just choked me up to view where thousands lost their lives over that short time span. You could clearly see how the battle was waged. You could tell by the narrative where big mistakes in judgment were made that costs hundreds of lives. One of the clearest examples given was when the confederates won the first round of a skirmish, then charged forward, pushing the union back, overtaking the union soldiers farther and father into their own territory. How proud and fired up they must have been; adrenalin rushing, hearts pounding, beating the union back all the while. They felt so confident that they had won. They charged ahead in that mayhem and slaughter, only to run headlong into a barrage of union canon fire that was awaiting their arrival. Every one of the rebels in that assault were massacred.

Across the road from that field is a cemetery, with row upon row laid to rest, numbering in the thousands. Although most considered the battle 'a draw', the union unofficially won occupation of Murfreesboro, but suffered tremendously in doing so, nearly as many as the rebs. It was a turning point to the war. As the remaining rebels high-tailed it further south, the union stayed protecting the railroad that brought supplies to the town, and to the new occupying fort they built there. (Fort Rosecrans)

For us, our time there was over as well, and we headed north up I-65 to Loretto, Kentucky, to visit the Makers Mark Bourbon distillery there, along with two other bourbon distilleries in nearby Bardstown, Kentucky (Jim Beam and Heaven Hill) We read about them on a hotel brochure and they seemed interesting, so we headed north. They were interesting tours and so were the samples given!. They don't give you enough bourbon to straighten out those curvy Kentucky roads in your mind, but it was a pleasure just sippin' those 8 and 12 year old samples. Note: We aren't bourbon drinkers either, and we didn't plan on being at any of these distilleries. We just saw where they were located and headed in that direction. One sip was worth the trip!

When stopping at a visitors center before arriving in Bardstown, one of the knowledgeable attendants there asked if we liked theater. We usually go to a few plays each year in Chicago. She told us that there would be a play in Bardstown at an open-air theater that evening. A summer musical, The Stephen Foster Story, was playing just outside of town next to a golf course. We bought tickets and went out to see the play. In all honesty, it was one of the most wonderful and memorable plays we had ever seen, with over 50 actors, gorgeous costumes, beautiful music, choreography, and story. It was superb in every way. The show began at 8:30pm, and the night air was so cool and crisp...such a contrast to the heat and humidity we had just experienced days before. The large stage, with all its sets that rolled in and out with changing scenes was backed by trees, crickets, cicadas, and croaking frogs nearby. It all added to the ambiance, and made it the crowning jewel of the entire trip.

The next day we headed back home through Louisville and Indianapolis, very contented that the roads we had taken had brought so many memorable experiences to our lives. When we compared it to others we had taken in the past that we're so hectic and we were so driven to see all that we could in the few days we had....soggy diapers, crying kids, heat, rain, car trouble, kids throwing up, arguing, etc, etc, etc.....this little vacation was just a treat. I guess it took all those 'other' times to make 'this' time seem so special.

If you ever get a chance to head down a road just to see where you'll end up, I hope you'll end up in Bardstown, KY to see that play. You will not be disappointed. It runs every summer.

The other points on our path proved to be enjoyable too. Without having to be anywhere at any given time, we could enjoy just being where we were, and to be thankful for what we experienced along the way.

Until we meet here again....
All the best,
George.

.

Not much happening at the writer's critique group held tonight at our local library. Several pieces were submitted by the members; a short fiction piece, a new script for a short play, and one free verse poem. We welcomed three new members; a grad of Illinois State who's written a religious paper, a high school teacher who writes short fiction, and one other local person who is working on a novel.

During the meeting, a strange thing happened that most of us unknown writers/poets pray that will happen someday. A person I had not met turned and asked me, "Did you perform poetry at Theaters Cool last week?"

My head and chest swelled simultaneously and my mouth went dry. Then, panic set in thinking, "What if she's going to tell me it was dog crap? What if I was unzipped at the time and that's why they were laughing, even in the saddest parts."

But, I told her, "Yes, yes, yes, it was moi...," then tossed my head back, nose high in the air, while my fancy beret slid off my bald head into my lap. She complimented me on the performance of Don't You Think; an unusual format of time progressive humorous poetry (at least that's what I call it), with various characters and voices....aging in the passage of time. She said, "I loved it!"

Well, I'd be a bigger fabricator of the truth than Barrack Hussein Obama if I told you I wasn't elated! The theater had been standing room only that night; mostly college students strutting their more modern stuff, and some white rap thrown in (rich white kids trying to sound as good as black rap performers, but not even coming close). I don't care what they say.....you just ain't gonna be as good, no matter how good you are! I was called right after one of them had recited a lengthy thing with 150 lines. I know there were 150 because she started with "Line 1", then entered her verse for it, slowly moving up the scale. I was exhausted by her piece before I even started mine, but marveled that she should could actually count that far. Probably a grad student. I should have gotten up there and said, "Now to continue.....let's see....okay here we go.....151.

Nevertheless,here I am....an old guy who gets up and tells them I have a rhyme. I thought I heard someone fart. Maybe not...but you can never be too sure. It could have been me. I was pretty nervous, and at my age the lower bowel does make honking noises at times. But, I began in spite of the stench. After the second laugh, I actually began to loosen up a bit. When my clothes came off and were thrown to the audience as souvenirs, I bega.......................aw hell...just kidding. There are codes all performers must adhere to. I may have thought about getting naked, but I do obey all laws when I have to. I would like to do a moon walk though someday...naked.

When nearing the finish line, I had practiced one particular line to get a real good laugh. While practicing, I even practiced their belly laugh just to make sure it jiggled enough. It was when the character speaking was praying:

"Now don't you think God there's a way to spare him?" (looking up at God while yelling it)

Well......what I hadn't realized is that the preceding line had me going off to war; not really a laughable situation, huh? So, when the big bonanza of laughs was suppose to happen.............NO LAUGHS AT ALL.......NONE..........ZIP..................SCARRRRRRY DEAD SILENCE!" What had been going so smoothly from memory sank immediately into a blank, Fozzy Bear-like stupor, and I had to quickly shuffle my handful of papers to find out where I was. I know I heard some farting going on then. I swear I did. Vicious farting. I hadn't anticipated that, nor had I practiced it.

And even though there was a tendency to REPEAT the line just in case they hadn't HEARD it right, I fumbled through. And, it wasn't long when I had them eating out of my hand once again...............nah, only in my wildest imagination. I did manage to make it through and left them laughing on the last line, even though for the life of me I don't remember that one being so funny. In fact, now that I think of it, didn't I die at the end? Oh well.

So, at the meeting tonight....there before me...a newly found local fan at last! Or maybe...just maybe I thought....a real, live, honest to goodness GROUPIE! Yes!! I've always wanted one of them and I was elated at the possibility. But, when I detected that she wasn't that fired up, my elation lasted about 10 seconds, and I dissolved back into being my normal invisible mundane self once again. She didn't ask for an autograph either, even though I had signed a few napkins before the meeting just in case someone would ask. Just kidding of course. Actually, they were Godiva chocolates. Do you know how hard it is to write on that foil!? Do you know how expensive those pieces are. Do you know how fattening it is to eat 15 autographed copies afterwards? Burp! Yes, I jest again.

We have a soire' (another french word for one kick ass french party...I think) coming up with all the writers and poets in our group this Friday at our fearless leader's house. Beer, wine, and eats provided...so it should be good. I'm sure that after a few glasses, we'll all become groupies:

"I luv yew man.....yewer the damdist best poet....in the whole sltinkin world (knocking over a rare vase with sudden arm flailing)...an...an...I wanna have yer baby. Huh? Wha vase? Oh...huhha...ain't no vassssssse man...itsa freekin jar."

A local artist is going to be there and we have to write something about an orchid beforehand. I've opted for a song. I'll let you know how it's received.

First, let me see how this embedded video works.