Carrie And Me: A Mother-Daughter Love Story Part 10

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."

When I got to town, I found the Delta Blues Museum. Walking in, I was greeted by a Eudora Brown, who looked to be in her twenties, and an old man in a VERY nice suit. He looked to be an old blues man for sure-almost like he was a plant, his look was so perfect.

Since I was the only other person there, I had time and s.p.a.ce to read everything, look at everything, and absorb it all.

Clarksdale is the epicenter of Delta Blues, and at the juncture of Highways 49 and 61. A sign made of two blue guitars announces this fact. Robert Johnson, Muddy Waters, John Lee Hooker, Howlin' Wolf-they've all been here, played here, and one was even poisoned here! Ol' Robert Johnson didn't heed the advice not to let the women in the bars he played in mess with his good sense. He had a wild streak, that one, and was quite the ladies' man.

As the story goes, one evening he began flirting with a woman at a dance, who happened to be the wife of the juke joint owner. When the bartender offered Johnson the better part of a bottle of whiskey, fellow blues legend Sonny Boy Williamson allegedly advised him never to drink from a bottle that had already been opened. But Johnson replied, "Don't ever knock a bottle out of my hand." That night Johnson felt ill and had to be helped back to his room, where he died early the next morning. The whiskey had been laced with poison. Ol' Robert Johnson was twenty-seven.

It was all there, Mama, wonderful anecdotes about the men and women who changed the sound of American music forever. Most of the stories were so tragic, like Big Mama Thornton dying penniless in a boarding house in Hollywood while Janis Joplin was becoming famous covering her songs. The list goes on and on.

I dawdled in the museum for a while, and then went back into the foyer where Eudora Brown was presiding, alone. She offered to show me a video, but I didn't want to sit there and watch TV. She said, "Well, I have a selfish motive, Miss. It gets kinda lonely here. There's no one to talk to." So I said, "Well, why didn't you say so? I don't need to sit here and watch a video. We can talk!" And talk we did.

She had the most glorious smile, even with braces on her teeth. Eudora lives with and takes care of her mother, who beat cancer last year, and Eudora's dating a no-good man who's constantly borrowing money from her. She used to have a visitor at the museum who worked for Habitat for Humanity. He was polite and friendly and visited the museum quite a lot-so much so, that Eudora got the feeling that he had a crush on her. He'd come in and buy one small item and talk with her. He kept coming back time after time, and they'd talk and talk. But he never asked Eudora out, and I'm guessing he was just too shy.

He was living in Clarksdale, but he moved to San Antonio a year ago, and Eudora hasn't heard from him since. Mama, I watched her face light up when she talked about that man, and fall completely when she started talking about the man she was seeing now.

So I couldn't help myself, I just piped up and said, "Eudora, I don't know you from Adam, but your entire face changes when you talk about the man who moved to San Antonio. Why don't you look him up? Call Habitat here and see if they have a number for him! Maybe he's still single? Maybe not, but you never know."

Her eyes shone like big marbles.

"Really? Should I? Maybe I will!"

I said, "Do it TODAY! Do it NOW! I'll wait here."

This girl has taken care of her mom her entire life, and now she thinks just maybe it's "time for Eudora." I told her I agreed with her 100 percent, as long as her Mama knows that she loves her and will be there for her when she needs her and will take care of her. I think any mother worth her salt only wants to see her baby happy. And that means "time for Eudora."

So Eudora got on the phone right then and there. The director of Habitat was out, but at the end of our visit Eudora promised me she'd keep trying. We hugged, and I got in my Jeep and headed out.

Maybe I stuck my nose in where it didn't belong but Mama, I just couldn't help myself, and Eudora seemed so happy when we waved good-bye. I pray it all works out for her.

From: Mama

To: Carrie

Sent: Jan. 5, 2001

You know what, honey? Even if it doesn't work out for Eudora, maybe you helped her realize she doesn't have to put up with someone who treats her poorly. Just got your new pages. I find that I'm constantly curious as to where Kate and the cowboy are headed next.

Love, Mama