The Road Goes On Forever...

We made it! Four day, ten states, and almost 1500 miles later, avoiding interstate highways almost all the way. (Confession: our resolve got weaker the closer we got to the end.) Our son Jake traveled up with us this time, a big treat—he’s always good company, and his Motown and Guardians of the Galaxy playlists were an extra bonus. A good time was had by all.

As my central Texas friends know, it takes forever to get out of Texas, but trip planner extraordinaire John O’Brien found a new-to-us route that led to Huntsville, home to a 67-foot tall statue of Sam Houston and the Texas Prison Museum. The Prison Museum had pretty much what you’d expect--lots of mighty creative

contraband, old prison rodeo posters, and Texas’ claim to infamy, Old Sparky—but it contained the unexpected, too. "Last Statement," a photo exhibit by Barbara Sloan, is a thoughtful look at those left behind following an execution, both the families of the victims and the families of the condemned. It was quite moving. From there, we continued our journey behind the Pine Curtain into Louisiana, heading toward Natchez.

We spent a third of the trip following an old friend, the Mississippi River. We crossed her three times—at Natchez, again at Memphis, and finally saying goodbye at Cairo, Illinois. Driving the roads that parallel the river, we experienced all sorts of fascinating things: we climbed Emerald Mound, the second largest Native American ceremonial mound in the US; enjoyed a delicious lunch in Onward, Mississippi (yes, BLfriedgreenT sandwiches are a real thing, and are highly recommended) at the spot where President T. Roosevelt refused to shoot a tethered black bear, thus bringing us all the Teddy Bear; discovered what has to be, hands-down,

the best university mascot ever (Fight, Okra, Fight!); and ate a tasty dinner at BB King’s club on Beale Street, while listening to the King Beez, the club’s house band for the past 25 years.

The next day began on a somber note, with a trip to the National Civil Rights Museum. Located next door to the Lorraine Motel, the site is a gut-punch in and of itself. The museum was packed with people of all ages and skin tones, visitors from all over the world. Well done and moving exhibits. I highly recommend it to anyone visiting Memphis.

Weaving back and forth across the river, traveling mostly on rural roads, we saw towns that were thriving, and others struggling to stay alive. Cairo, Illinois is a town definitely struggling to stay alive. The almost-ghost town sits at the confluence of the Mississippi and Ohio Rivers. Cairo (pronounced like the corn syrup, not the Egyptian city) was once a bustling place, fueled by jobs tied to boat traffic running up and down the two rivers, but those jobs have moved on, and today there’s no fuel left. The town is filled with homes long abandoned, many crumbling and covered with vines. Cairo clearly works to keep the grounds mowed and tidy, but the contrast only works to heighten the overwhelming sense of decay.

Although located only 30 miles upriver from Cairo where the Tennessee River joins the Ohio, Paducah, Kentucky, seems a world away. Its downtown was hopping, filled with people out and about. Granted, most of them were playing Pokemon Go, but they added to the lively atmosphere nonetheless. And we found a great local brew pub in beautifully repurposed 1960s-era Greyhound bus station.

(It was a big day for us and bus stations--earlier, we'd visited this Art Moderne-style Greyhound Bus Station in Blytheville, Arkansas.)

The last day on the road took us to Metropolis, Illinois, which is clearly a town with both a sense of humor and a forward-thinking Chamber of Commerce. Superman rules in Metropolis: there’s a Truth Street, a Justice Street, and an American Way. Lots of schlock, which is right up our Truth, Justice, and American Way alleys.

Later, we passed through Terre Haute, Indiana, home to Indiana State University, Larry "The Legend" Bird's alma mater. Although in real life, Larry is taller than Sam Houston was, his statue is significantly shorter. Significantly. But I'm betting Indiana doesn't love him any less.

Our final stop was in Gary, Indiana, a pilgrimage to the Jackson’s house. Hard to imagine 11 people living here, but they did. Seemed a fitting homage, considering all the Motown we'd been listening to.

And not a whole lot farther along the road, there was this. Always happy to see the Pure Michigan sign welcoming us back and reminding us that the road doesn’t really go on forever (it just feels like it!)