Ron. Does Not Travel Well

My Beloved Sandra’s off to Vegas on Wednesday & everyone knows I’ll miss her.  But I have no desire for Vegas.  Everybody who knows me knows why.

There are a few cities I might be willing to visit, however briefly. Memphis might be one.  The song “Walking In Memphis” always makes me cry; inexplicably break down weeping.  I have no idea why. In case you don’t know it, here it is:

–Sidenote: I believe that we’ve all lived previous lives, and I believe that in a previous lifetime I was a Delta Bluesman.  When I went to New Orleans, I knew my way around as soon as my feet touched the ground. When I visited Preservation Hall, I had this overwhelming compulsion to go sit on stage. And when my friend Cyrrt gave an alto sax in highschool, I played “St James Infirmary” within 5 minutes without having ever touched a sax before in my life.  And then there’s the whole weeping thing with “Walking In Memphis”–

At any rate, I have mixed feelings about visiting Memphis.  I’m afraid of whatever ghosts might haunt me, walking down Beale Street or Union Avenue.  And I figure that if I ever did live there before–in its heyday–it would probably break my heart to see what it’s become. 

Joni paints it pretty clearly:

 I dunno;  I guess Sandra’s right; I gotta get out more.  But Vegas?  No.  Beale Street? Maybe…

 

3 thoughts on “Ron. Does Not Travel Well

  1. sometimes we have to revisit places we’ve never been, and sometimes we have to run like hell in the opposite direction. It’s all in what the heart can handle at the time. I think i’d be willing to go, if it were me, just to see if the ghosts are really there, and why.

  2. Holy crapping shit. When I went to New Orleans, I knew my way around as soon as my feet touched the ground. When I visited Preservation Hall, I made friends with the owners right away and they loaned me a bicycle which I rode around the city in the very early mornings before the day heated up. I was instantly a native and joined a commune on Decatur Street/Ursulines and lived there happily. I drive to Mississippi to the Delta a few times a year and stay in Greenwood or Clarksdale. The music, man, the music. You have to come visit.

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