Cross Country Pt. 2

The road sign on my grandparent’s street in Memphis was missing. No problem. I had a feeling we were close, and we were.

I should preface all of this by saying that I never answer my phone when my grandparents call. Not because I don’t want to speak to them, but because every voicemail they have ever left on my answering machine is the funniest, sweetest, most hilarious thing in the world. I have put their voices on countless mixtapes and CDs for friends. If they ever found out, they’d probably try to cash in on royalties.

They have the most genuine voices in the world. My grandfather’s golden tone is reminescent of Johnny Cash and James Earl Jones with a little Memphis flavor. Grammy’s voice has origins from somewhere in the foothills of Appalachia with a mix of Savannah regalness, and it carries the knowledge of “Mr. Duke’s University” and the sincerity of a saint.

I guess that’s why it surprised me so when they said, “We really think you’ll like Wedding Crashers, and the other movie we just saw was spectacular. The best acting we’ve seen in a long time. Perhaps you’ve heard of it? HUSTLE AND FLOW.”

Now, I’ve always known my grandparents were hip, but this just blew me away. Could I now have a debate with them about the age-old Tupac vs. Biggie question? Could we discuss the parallels of Elvis and Eminem? Anything seemed possible as the words “Hustle and Flow” hung in the air from their mouths like the mist from aerosol graffiti.

We went to see Graceland shortly thereafter. It seemed quite fitting with the trajectory of the visit. I’ve done the expensive house tour before, so this was more of a mecca and souveneir stop. Mari and I took pictures outside the pearly gates while my grandparents sat in their air-conditioned buick. Grammy recommended that we buy one of the clocks that has Elvis’ hips swining like a pendulum before they stop producing them like the velvet Elvis that she now covets. We bought a couple of postcards, buttons, t-shirts. I found the perfect one for Blelvis (my friend and black Elvis impersonator) back home, but I can’t seem to find his address.

Grandaddy’s car tour of Memphis took us by all of the important landmarks. Grammy hit her head on the historical marker outside of Sun Recording Studios. Names and dates and municipal holiday declarations for The King vibrated with the impact of the blow, but Grammy just laughed it off. We cruised along the Mississippi, saw the pyramid of Memphis, the Gibson guitar factory, Beale St., Schwaab’s, Mud Island, the motel where MLK was shot and the woman who wants to turn the motel facilities in to a homeless shelter. Grandaddy had stories for them all. With his voice as the narrator of history, everything is grand.

The next morning, we woke up and hustled over to the Peabody. The Peabody is famous because every morning at 11am, for the past 50 years, ducks get on the elevator, ride it down to the ground floor, waddle down a red carpet and swim in the hotel lobby’s fountain for 6 hours. At 5pm, they get back on the elevator and retire for the night. Rinse and repeat, the royal residents. Quack quack.

Before we left, Grammy had a few questions for me of new words she’d seen in the newspaper and didn’t understand- aaight, blaxploitation, and… blog.