A preacher, a carpenter and a king

We are determined to take advantage of our posting in St. Louis to get to know the United States better. We are planning to travel to as many states as we can while living here to broaden our understanding of this great country and to see its many natural wonders.

Although Canadians learn American history and geography in school, first-hand experience is so much more relevant. For example, when we first arrived, I was desperate to stand on the shore of the Mississippi River, to see for myself that it really existed and was not just a figment of Mark Twain’s imagination. I had heard of Lincoln – I mean, who hasn’t? – but, he became living history to me once I had visited his home and museum in Springfield, Illinois.

This past Easter weekend, we drove down to Memphis, Tennessee for no other reason than to see it. It is a good four-hour drive south of St. Louis. We didn’t have a guide book and, quite honestly, had nothing but the hotel and a Friday night basketball game pre-booked. But, we all love history and I love Elvis, so we roughed out some plans to see the Civil Rights Museum on Saturday and to visit Graceland on Sunday, after Easter services.

Nothing could have prepared me for the museum, located at the Lorraine Motel, where a very determined, charismatic, and well-spoken preacher named Reverend Martin Luther King Jr. was gunned down on April 4th 1968, one day later and forty-two years earlier than our April 3rd pilgrimage to the memorial. He was 39 years old. In his short life, he had been awarded the Nobel Peace Prize, led national organizations, boycotts and marches against injustices for Negro Americans and fought for civil rights everywhere. He had been arrested, beaten, and abused multiple times. This amazing museum tells the story of the civil rights movement from the time of the first immigrants and colonies in America, through the Civil War and its ensuing years, especially during the civil rights movements of the 50s and 60s. The museum is full of photos, artefacts and newspaper clippings, as well as sobering black-and-white film footage of lynchings, burnings, and beatings.

On Sunday, we attended Easter services at the beautiful St. Peter’s Church in downtown Memphis. The church dates back to the mid-1800s and is one of the oldest buildings in Memphis today. In addition to fabulous artwork, statues and light fixtures, the church’s windows shine with vibrant stained glass, including several panels constructed in Germany and installed in the early 1900s. The windows depict what are known as the Joyful and the Glorious mysteries, the latter of which includes fundamentals of the Christian faith, especially as it differs from other religions. In particular, one window tells the story of Easter: Jesus, known also as God, appeared on Earth as a man – the son of a carpenter – and was resurrected after his death.

After a lovely breakfast, we joined a tour going to Graceland, the home and final resting place of a singing and movie sensation known as the king of rock ‘n roll: Elvis Presley. It was his home for over twenty years. His young wife and baby girl lived there with him, as did his parents. His doors were always open to friends and family and, according to personal accounts, there were always people around enjoying Elvis’ effervescent and creative spirit. But, it is a sad place. It is a tribute to a man who died young, at only 42 years of age. The museum rooms are jammed with tributes, awards, plaques, photos, movie posters, old cheque stubs and innocuous telegrams. His music plays and many of the visitors sing along or tap their toes to the catchy tunes.

As we got back in the car to return to St. Louis, the whole family agreed that we’d had a lovely time (including the ribs at Rendezvous and the duck parade at The Peabody Hotel!). Though we had not expressly planned to do so, we felt that we’d stepped back in time on several occasions during the weekend. I think Memphis does that to you. There, history simmers just below the new veneer of a revitalised downtown, seeping out like a vapour, showing itself in the cobblestones that peek from under broken cement on Beale Street and in the Mississippi mud bricks of the old warehouses. It was the perfect place to re-live history; to consider the lives of a preacher, a carpenter, and a king.