the Mason-Dixon line. As soon as the sun started to drop though, you could tell that it was still winter. Went to get John and we got to head downtown to Beale Street. I have to say that this has taken on mythical status in my mind and I was envisioning a street that was part
Bourbon Street
and part 7th street in Austin.
It was neither. There was one
block that was blocked off for walking and some bars, some shops, that was
it. What?!?!? That’s it?!?!? I couldn’t believe it. Got some pictures and didn’t even like how
those came out. We went to the dinner
that John had for his conference which happened to be at the Center for
Southern Folklore downtown. But, they
had a rehearsal dinner the same night so the philosophers got
moved downstairs into the Belz Museum. Never heard of it and didn’t plan on seeing it, but wandered around once John started talking with another man about Whitehead and his views on something or other and blah, blah, blah…..My eyes started to cross and I figured that I would just wander through this few rooms that seemed to have some interesting Asian things in there and MY GOD did they have some amazing things. One, why isn’t this in all the hotel flyers, two how the hell did Memphis get such awesome things from Asia, three how did they get it all over here with its incredible fragility? I have never been so overwhelmed by use of precious stones and intricate carving and detail. These things are carved into mammoth tusks…I can’t do the pieces justice in a blog and the camera did a really horrible job of doing them any justice either. Suffice it to say that everything there was made of jade, ivory, tiger’s eye, and other semi precious stones on a scale not to be believed. Like, the carriage and horses of jade that are shown are big enough for me to get into and get driven around in. John and his cronies were having Memphis barbecue for dinner, but I told him that the one thing I wanted was some catfish while we were there, so I went up the stairs and asked the guard where to do near there with the best catfish. She sent me to the Flying Fish a couple blocks over and asked why I wanted catfish so much. I told her that I lived in Michigan now where they don’t have any knowledge of such a thing as a fried mud dwelling disgusting fish and she just shook her head as if that was the saddest tale that she had ever heard. Well, she did send me in the right direction for a great catfish fillet and I tried to make up for the fried fish with putting lima beans as my side instead of French fries, but this is Memphis and I’m pretty sure that the lima beans were worse for me than the fries would have been. Came back to find John still immersed in shop talk that normal people can’t understand and it made me glad that we are at Ferris where you have interdisciplinary teams and don’t have to only socialize with other philosophers…Good God, I would be more of a drinker than I already am if that were the case.
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