Tupelo, Mississippi

His boyhood home

For some reason I wanted to see Elvis Presley's birthplace, and I'm glad I went. It is not a major destination, certainly not like Graceland a few hours to the north. The one-room house where he was born hasn't been moved from the neighborhood where he grew up. The church he attended has been relocated to the same site. There is a museum of sorts, a gift shop, and a modern chapel where Elvis' recordings of spirituals  and hymns play in the background. The "memorial" is simple, unpretentious, and a sweet reminder of once upon a time in America.

The church he attended

From Tupelo, I picked up the Natchez Trace Parkway - parkway being the operative word - and headed southwest. My original plan was to take it all the way to Natchez. It's a lovely drive through the Tom Bigbee National Forest. There are lots of historic markers pointing out where things once were, but except for a few Indian mounds most of the things are long gone. A detour took me through a stretch of rural Mississippi straight out of "As I Lay Dying." When I got to Jackson, I decided I had had enough and turned off on to I55 headed towards New Orleans. I'm foregoing Natchez and New Orleans and heading straight for San Antonio. The Four Corners are calling me.

Natchez Trace Parkway

Faulkner country

I made a point of turning off all media today. I wanted to take in where I was going without the buzz of the growing number and intensity of crises. There was almost no traffic the whole way. It was a serene, meditative journey.