Gari Melchers Home and Studio - Falmouth VA

May 2, 2014

Thanks to a New Year's visit to the Carolina's and Folly Beach, we have suffered every since with acute Spring Fever. I suppose that I can thank global warming at least in part for the bizarre weather patterns we have experienced this year  … the worst of which is the absence of Spring for the cabin fever-plagued Vermonters.  The cure … sun and warm and a few flowers thrown in for good measure. A road trip South would do the trick.

We packed the car and headed for Virginia. We consulted weather.com for the Virginia forecast. There we found severe rain, wind, cold and tornado warnings. I was not encouraged.

Thank goodness for inaccurate weather reports. Other areas in the South were catching hell, but Virginia started to clear by the time we reached it. Our plans called for us to reach the Winchester area by nightfall and to head towards Richmond to visit my nephew and family the next day. Along the way, we were treated to a series of huge farms with mansions centered amid the rolling hills and accented with the Blue Ridge Mountains in the background. Our interim destination was Falmouth, VA,  just outside of Fredericksburg where Anne had attended college. Located there was Belmont, the home and studio of artist Gari Melchers.




The setting of the Melchers homeplace was just what we needed. Everything was pristine and the grounds were bursting with the colors of spring flowers, and blossoming shrubbery and trees.












Wisteria lined the picket fence in the front.
















In the rear of the property was a walking trail down to the river. Through the redbuds and dogwoods, the rapids of the Rappahannock River were visible below.



We arrived just in time for the first house and studio tour of the day.  We entered the house and were greeted immediately by a short, elderly lady with a distinct southerns Virginia accent reminiscent of South Boston, VA where we grew up. The lady was dressed impeccably … seemingly as pristine as the property itself.  The tour was  a real treat. Melchers was destined to be the artist he became.  Son of a artist himself, he was sent to Paris for his art education where he soon excelled. He lived in worked for 25 years in the Netherlands  and later in New York. A prominent portrait painter to the famous and wealthy of his time, although his real passion was painting the common man much like the work of Rockwell. The one thing he never experienced was the life of the starving artist … it seemed his success was meant to be. He came to Falmouth seeking a rural retreat from the hustle and bustle of New York. After his death, his wife eventually willed the home, his studio and the contents of each to the State of Virginia.

Melchers had several studios over the course of his career, but his favorite was the last, the one located at his home, Belmont. The studio today house his old desk, palette, brushes and tools. In addition, were severe rooms adorned with his paintings.






















The remainder of our visit was spent enjoying the grounds and the sunshine we needed so badly.

The garage

Trellis on the long walkway

Garden sculpture

The Spring House

                                                                                     

Melchers Home and Studio was definitely a good find … informational and beautiful. Perhaps I was wrong … perhaps, Spring will come this year after all. 

Signs of Senility

I have a theory about aging that I call the downhill slide. If you read my blog on Walking in the Wilderness, you will understand that the downhill slide officially begins at age forty though it may not be glaringly evident at that stage.  My theory is that life from birth to age forty is a steady uphill climb. We grow, learn and mature over those years. At forty, we begin the downhill slide … the inevitable slide to the grave. It cannot be stayed or reversed. No matter how much we dig in our heels … how deep the ruts we create as we skid toward that final destination … the result is the same.

Along the way, if we are lucky, we reach retirement before we reach the final destination. Make no mistake, the distance between retirement and death is all to short and the chances of one being in la la land for a good portion of that phase of the journey is pretty damned good. Therefore, must always be on the alert for signs of senility.You don't want senility to sneak up on you. If you do, then you can count on the last ten years or so of your so-called life being spent pulling up your hospital gown to show the nurses your penis ,or laying around in your own feces  wearing Depends. You will want to pop a cap or leap off a bridge well in advance of senility.

On the other hand, you don't want to take drastic measures too early. Being forgetful and being senile are two different things. For example. I went kayaking today and when I was done I packed up  and drove out of the parking lot and on to the main highway. I had only driven a short ways when it struck me that I did not remember strapping down the kayak. I did this once before only to experience the kayak flying off the car and bouncing down the highway. To do this for a second time, might be a significant sign of the onset of senility. Immediately, I slowed the car to a virtual crawl until I could find a safe place to pull off the road. Luck was with me. I glanced in the rear view mirror and saw no kayak in the road behind. I got out of the vehicle to strap down the kayak and to my surprise there was no kayak on the top of the car. I had left the kayak at the landing.

Being a first occurrence, forgetting the kayak was not a sign of senility. All was well. I glanced at my crotch  … just to make sure my zipper was not down … and drove home.  A sat around until dinner listening nervously for the phone. I didn't get a call so I am pretty sure that I didn't take anyone kayaking with me.

Walking on Beale - Memphis TN

One of our goals to survive the winter was to travel more. We initiated the idea and extended our traditional New Year's trip to Simpsonville on both the front and back ends with stops in Roanoke VA, Asheville NC, and Folly Beach SC in January. Like everyone else, March found us craving spring and we decided on a short trip to Memphis. By no stretch of the imagination did we find spring … but it was warmer and we did see the ground instead of three feet of snow. We selected Memphis based on several considerations. Number 1 was Elvis. Hey, Remember the King! Secondly, was food … that being Memphis style barbecue. … with a little fried chicken, turnip greens, fried bologna, and hot dogs thrown in. Thirdly, was the music … rock and roll, blues, soul … it all had roots in Memphis. 

                REMEMBER the KING

I wonder why it is that airlines need to send you north to fly south … our flight took us first to Minneapolis to layover before heading on to Memphis. Whatever the reason, we made it to Memphis and Crowne Plaza Downtown around 8:30 PM. The hotel had a shuttle service in the downtown area that took us to our first Memphis destination … Charlie Vergo's Rendezvous restaurant, the #1 BBQ spot in town.

The entrance to Rendezvous was located in an alley leading to the famous Peabody Hotel. To say it was uninspiring is an understatement, but the fact that it was an hour wait to get in (which we spent checking out the Peabody) said much more. The alley outside was filled with the aroma BBQ and assured us of good food to come. Inside we discovered the restaurant to somewhat rundown and disheveled, but huge! We were not disappointed though! Of course we started with the ribs … heavy on the rub with a touch of sauce … just a little tough, but delicious!

Monday, our first full day,  was to be a busy one. We shuttled first to Sun Records, but were unable to get the combined ticket we wanted there and took their shuttle to the Rock and Soul Museum instead for our start. Although, we hadn't originally planned to see this museum, we were able to get a combined ticket for multiple sites (including the Rock and Soul Museum) at a good price which included free shuttle service between several of the sites.  

The Rock and Soul Museum turned out to be a great stop. It tracked the history of rock and soul music from its roots in the cotton fields and gospel choirs to the studios. The history of the birth of rock and roll and soul music and the impact of property, race and the vision of performers and promoters is a fascinating and informative story. 

The displays were well-done and numerous and the museum turned out to be well worth the visit. I have worked in a field behind a mule like this when I was young ... it was not much fun ... especially on green corn day.

Just outside the museum was the FedEx Forum, home of the Memphis Grizzlies, and across the street was the Gibson Guitar Factory where  tours were available. Unfortunately, we did not have time to check either of these out. We boarded the shuttle … destination Graceland. 

I might as well come clean right now… I am not an Elvis fan. I am, however, an Elvis impersonator, sky-diving Elvises, fat Elvis, and all things mockingly Elvis fan. Nevertheless, I do realize that Elvis was a music legend and is an American icon. Fan or not, the Elvis story is a slice of Americana and was worth experiencing. 

To prepare myself, I had to get my Elvis Mojo on. I had planed to purchase  a cheap Elvis pompadour wig with sideburns and some Elvis sunglasses to dress up on the trip for funny pictures at different spots, but had waited to late to do so. Instead, I decided to wait and buy one in Memphis (should be able to get one their easily) and settled with dressing up with what I could find at home and trying out my Elvis look.  When I got to Memphis, funny Elvis wigs were not to be found. I realized that in Memphis all things Elvis were sacred and worshiped as a shrine. Memphis was not the town to make fun of Elvis!

Graceland is exactly what one would imagine it to be. Elvis was the King. He was practically worshipped by his fans and was fabulously wealthy. Everything Elvis is for show and over the top.  It is no surprise that everything was gaudy, and glitzy … and fit for a Superstar.

Graceland is a little like eating too much chocolate. You can't get enough of that bittersweet taste … but after while, you kinda feel like throwing up.  We jumped in the shuttle and headed back downtown.  We had some time to spare so we walked back to the Peabody Hotel to see the traditional walking of the ducks at the Peabody ... secretly, I was hoping for the pooping of the ducks scandal … 

… this pic is of Anne sipping a martini in the Peabody bar afterwards ... to the right and out of the picture is me on the floor being resuscitated after realizing that my cup of coffee cost $7.50.

To finish what had been a great day, we headed for Flight Restaurant., our food splurge for the trip. For every aspect of the meal, you could order a Flight, which consisted of small dishes of the three offerings   in that category. We combined a flight of wines,  flight of soups,  flight of entrees and plus small entree of baked grouper for the two of us. I love this approach because it allows us to try so many of the dishes, all of which sounded incredibly good. The fact of the matter was that they also tasted incredibly good.

Sun Records, home to the likes of Elvis, Johnny Cash, Jerry Lee Lewis, and Carl Perkins to name a few, was our first stop for Monday and our favorite museum. The woman on the left of the picture was our guide and made the difference. She was young, flippant and rather irreverent for a tour guide. Yet, when she clicked on a song for us to accompany her spiel, she would close her eyes, sway, and smile. You could tell two things … she loved what she did … and she loved the music. And so did we!

They called the foursome in the picture "The Million Dollar Quartet"
The four live peop;e were called 3 hot chicks and an old coot.

I tried my Great Balls of Fire under the watchful eye of Jerry Lee

We stepped up to the original Elvis mike ... I put on my best Elvis snarl ... think we will call ourselves, "Par Boiled"

After the Sun Record tour, we decided to walk to Beale Street rather than wait for the shuttle. It was a good choice. On the way, we discovered the St. Blues Guitar Workshop and checked it out. I won't pretend to know squat about guitars or guitar players, but it seems St. Blues is a biggy, like Gibson. We particularly enjoyed the "juke joint" style guitar replicas made from old cigar boxes or rectangular gas cans. We continued on to Beale and tried our second hot spot for BBQ, Alfred's. Had a side of turnip greens as well and they were delicious. Alfred's was practically deserted while we were there … it is definitely more of a late night food and music joint.

Alfred's on Beale

Call me sentimental … I had set aside the afternoon for a romantic, riverboat ride along the mighty Mississippi. Those who know me well, know that boat rides are not my cup of tea. Nevertheless.

They call it the "Mighty Mississippi" … but I know it as the River Styx. Sometimes before these river cruises, I convince myself that it will be different this time. The reality is that when you travel the River Styx, the destination is always the same. It is, always and forever, the Cruise From Hell and your destination is the fiery pit.  We arrived early and boarded. I had spotted a couple of seats on the upper level in the front and wanted to grab them before they were taken. Figured that to be the spot with the best view. We cut through a large seating area that I assumed was used primarily for the elderly or the dinner guests. As I started though the back door to the stairs and the upper level, I realized that Anne was not with me and looked back. She was arranging her things on a side stable in the room. She gave me a quizzical look and asked, "Don't you think it is too cold to sit outside?"  This was a debate that I would not win. I sat down and stared out the window. I tried to imagine the spotted pictures I would soon take through the spattered window. Soon, another couple found the table beside me to their liking and in no time had wedged themselves in and made themselves comfortable. I endeavored to assist them my sliding my chair forward until my stomach was crushed into the side of my table. A slow heat worked its way upward … I could feel the flames of the fiery pit licking my heels.

The riverboat trip was everything I expected and more!

It was back to Beale Street for dinner and you guessed it … BBQ was on the menu. This time we chose the Blues City Cafe, which claimed the best ribs and steaks on the street. I like to describe most of the restaurants on and around Beale as "roughly hewn". As a whole, they are beaten and battered, faded and chipped, weathered and worn. They definitely are not attractive to look at  … but the food is plentiful and good … especially the Q.  To be different this time, we had the BBQ … and threw in three tamales for a little variety! We were seated near the grill and watched as the chefs spiced and oiled the huge steaks for the fire. We drooled into our meals as they worked. It's a shame that this day and time only Kings, brokers, and computer geeks can afford to buy a steak like that in a restaurant. Blues City Cafe … another winner.

After dinner, we strolled Beale … or should I say, we were Walking on Beale.  Either Beale Street is starting to lose its appeal or we caught it at a slow time … it was somewhat deserted. It reminded me of Bourbon Street in New Orleans somewhat... maybe Beale is headed in the same direction ... losing sight of the traditional music and becoming more about the booze. Maybe I am just getting old.

Beale at night and B. B. King's

Big beers to drink as you wander the street

Stopped by for a drink and music with the Dr. Feelgood Potts Band

A. Schwab General Store … everything souvenir and a soda fountain to boot

Tuesday morning found us packed and ready for the flight home. On the agenda, was a leisurely breakfast (believe it or not, we were too busy to eat breakfast any other day … or maybe it was because we could not find a breakfast BBQ restaurant) and the Stax Record Museum. We had breakfast nearby at the Blue Plate Cafe and Gallery (a nice combination) and then took the shuttle out to Stax. When we arrived in Memphis, we had gotten no less than three different warnings about going to Stax. We heard that it was a "rough" area, "whatever you do, take cab right to the door", "be every careful".  The reality of these warning seemed to be that the area was primarily black and was low income. In other words, it was safe but don't be stupid, and be careful if you wander alone at night. Duh! Ignoring the warnings was a good idea, otherwise we would have missed a great museum. Stax was the home to soul and rhythm and blues (not the clean Apollo style but the earthy Memphis style) and the likes of Otis Redding, Sam and Dave and Isaac Hayes. Uniquely for the times, it was colorblind until the assassination of Martin Luther King changed the world and changed Memphis.

Outside Stax Records … next-door is the Stax Academy of Music

Isaac Hayes gold-plated, white-fur-lined caddy … hey, it was the '70's

Memphis … a great place to visit. Originally, I had planned for a longer excursion that included Nashville and Chattanooga. I seriously doubt that I am through with Tennessee yet. I regret that we missed the National Civil Rights Museum. It was partially open (renovations), but I got our days confused and scheduled it for the day it was closed.

Missed the National Civil Rights Museum … but did see the MLK monument

Parting shots ….

Southern Folklore Center ... that is Folklore, not Forklore which is about the BBQ 

The Pyramid was near our hotel. I gather it is a marketing idea that turned out to be the bottomless money pit ... one of those great sales jobs that never quite measure up ... pro teams left it and built the $250 million forum instead ... however, it is being refitted now for a mega Bass Pro

And then it was time to go. We checked in for our flight home and headed for our gate. Along the way, we noticed that one of the restaurants that we had hoped to try had a branch at the airport.  Hummmm … one more time, Memphis style BBQ … how could we say "no"?

Corky's - BBQ ... last shot for BBQ at the airport