My Life as Lucy Ricardo - The Apartment

A golden oldie re-run that always makes me laugh.

I should be embarrassed to tell this story, but apparently I have no shame and no reluctance to laugh at myself.

This “Lucy” episode took place in the fall before Mike and I married in mid-December, '66 (based, of course, on winter break at MSU and the date of the Liberty Bowl). We were apartment hunting and pulled up in the parking lot of a small complex near school that had potential.

We were disappointed to find that there was no resident manager, but there was clearly an empty first-floor unit. We peeked through the living room and kitchen windows. You remember the starter apartments where the front door and kitchen door were practically next to each other? That was the set-up. By chance, one of us tried the kitchen doorknob – and it was open.

It's not breaking and entering if the door's unlocked, right? So, in we went. The first strike against the apartment was the incredibly small size of the kitchen. The best example is that if the oven door was open, you couldn't fully open or close the back door. That's small.

They’d already painted and cleaned up the apartment and, except for the kitchen, it looked really good. But before we left to check out the next apartment on the list, I decided to use the bathroom there. Mike determined that everything was operable, so in I went. I suppose it was because I felt a bit like a trespasser that I flipped the doorknob lock as I closed the bathroom door behind me. I also suppose that the events that followed were the price for our criminal behavior.

As I started to exit the restroom moments later, I unfortunately found that the doorknob was faulty. It had no traction. Just turned aimlessly. Naturally, that somehow affected the lock and I couldn’t unlock the door. So now we’re trespassing AND I’m locked in the bathroom. I did everything I could to get the doorknob to catch, but was having no luck. Finally, I just knocked on the door as if asking permission to leave would release me from the unfriendly room.

Mike followed the sound and initially thought I was playing a game with him. Nope. So he started struggling with the knob on his side of the door and giving me instructions about what to do on my side in hopes that, together, we could get something to happen. No surprise – that didn’t work either. The door opened into the bathroom so the hinges were on my side. In hopes that they might be loose, Mike told me what to do to attempt pulling that watchamacallit out of that round thingamajig. And that didn’t work either. No use to look for tools in an empty bathroom either. We obviously couldn’t break down the door. That would add vandalism to our illegal entry, and rememberthat there was no resident manager who might begrudgingly provide help.

Mike recalled seeing a window in the bathroom, so he told me to have a look, see if it would open and then describe to him what I’d found. Yes, there was a window on the wall next to the bathtub. It was small. It was high. It was one horizontal, rectangular piece of glass.

I stepped up on the side of the bathtub and then crossed to the small side of the tub’s rim against the wall. I had to stand on tiptoe because there wasn’t enough room for the whole foot. In that position, I could see out the window. Its lower ledge was about at my shoulder level. I yelled to Mike that it would open. He said he’d go outside to check it out and that I should stay put. I thought to myself, “isn’t that the problem?”

Around the building and to the back, which was fortunately sheltered from view from the street, Mike came to my aid and somehow popped off the screen. I peered out and saw that it was farther to the ground than I would have liked. And because of the window’s size and position above the tub, there was no way that I was going to sit in the window and jump down.

In case any of you have a doubt, I might point out that I was never a tomboy. Hadn’t climbed trees. Hadn’t dived headfirst from anything except a swimming pool. I got off the tub and prayerfully checked the doorknob again only to learn that it was still broken. I could hear Mike outside telling me that the window was the only way and that he’d catch me. Yes, but would my broken neck heal in time for the wedding?

I t helped that I was only 20 and fairly small. It also helped that I’d had a lot of dance and stuff in high school so I was pretty limber. Back over to the tub’s small edge, I started pulling myself up to push out of the window. I used the built-in soap dish as a foothold and was grateful that I didn’t break it. First good news of the last hour or so. I got head and shoulders through the window and started scooting my body forward.

Remember playing on a see-saw? There’s a balance point in the middle and, depending on the weight that’s placed on both ends, the horizontal board will tip backward or forward. There was a period of time in going out the window when I became a human see-saw. I was pretty sure that there could be no good outcome. Mike was standing there, arms outstretched, encouraging me to keep pushing forward. And so I did.

I finally got enough of me out the window that he could grab my arms, then my shoulders and basically drag me through the window and to safety. He gave me a big hug, told me I was brave -- -- and then we ran like hell.

We rented a different apartment.

Kudzu

When Mike and I got off the freeway Saturday to drive over to Sardis Dam, I saw something along the two-lane road that I hadn’t seen in years: kudzu. It’s a plant that epitomizes the concept of a good idea gone bad.

Kudzu plants were imported from Japan and China in 1876 as a forage crop and ornamental plant. Because of the warm temperatures, usually generous rainfall, humidity and mild winters, kudzu loved the southeastern U.S., and from 1935 until the early 1950s, the Soil Conservation Service encouraged farmers to plant it to combat soil erosion. Farmers and the Civilian Conservation Corps did so, and kudzu took off like an alien invader bent on conquering the earth. As a matter of fact, I’ve contemplated that possibility.

As kudzu began to spread rapidly, they also discovered that it’s difficult to stop. Oops. Driving down smaller roads in the South, you’ll see trees, utility poles and even abandoned houses that have been covered by kudzu. I told you it’s like a horror flick.

In 1953, the Department of Agriculture designated kudzu as a pest weed and removed it from the list of permissible cover plants. They stopped planting it, but eradication is quite difficult and, if you turn your back, it’s covered something else that moves more slowly than it does. Kudzu produces “runners” which then set down roots and produce more traveling runners. Some accounts say that it can grow 18 inches a day.

True story: The mother of a friend of Mike’s was in poor health and her family needed to move her closer to them. She had a house and a little land in north MS, but the friend first had to clear out the house and clean up the property before it could be sold. There was a large area covered thickly with weeds and kudzu that was a real . . . well *pain* to clear out. But there was a reward. Underneath the kudzu he found a full-sized school bus. I know what you’re thinking. I asked the same question. The bus was empty, but I have a feeling that the kudzu was disappointed.

Family Time

Thursday was the day for a visit from cousin Grace and her husband Jim from Denver. They both grew up in Vicksburg, MS so they knew the heat and humidity they’d face, but they bravely headed this way anyway. They were visiting friends and family in Arkansas, Louisiana, Texas and MS, so we were glad to get a spot on their itinerary.

We picked up Mother and headed to Olive Branch’s favorite home-cookin’ restaurant, aptly named Hazel’s. We had a great visit and a yummy lunch.

On Friday, Mike and I headed down to Jackson for a visit with Alex. We did dinner and a movie, then watched an Elvis special back at the motel. Yep, specials are still airing in remembrance of this month’s anniversary. I let the guys choose the movie at the multiplex and was led like a lamb to the slaughter into Rush Hour 3. I had no idea. But the seats were comfortable; the a/c worked fine, and I had plenty of popcorn. Saturday morning called for pool time, and I was reminded of Alex’s favorite pool toy -- -- me.

It was an excellent visit. On the way back up the road that afternoon, Mike and I took a brief side trip to Sardis Dam and Lake – watched folks fish at the spillway and once again had the weekend-place-at-the-lake conversation. hmmmm

Memphis Factoid

Our home lies just over two miles south of the Memphis city limits and slightly west of a north/south street that runs way up into Memphis. As a matter of fact, it gets quite close to where Mike and I lived during marriage number one.

One of the landmarks in that area is the large VA Hospital. Back in WWII when injured servicemen were being admitted there in large numbers, hospital administrators went to the City with concerns about the name of the street that ran along its western edge. The City Fathers agreed and changed the name to the one it still bears today -- Getwell. The previous name -- Shotwell.

And now you know the rest of the story.

A Final Elvis Note

Back in elementary school, about the fourth or fifth grade, I fell in love with Elvis. I listened to the radio non-stop and spent way too much time staring at the full-page, color portrait photo of him that I’d cut out of a magazine. Oh, those eyes.

About that time, I went to camp for the first time, which was a big shock for many reasons. I was a city girl, an apartment girl, and all those trees and grass and walking half a block to the latrine building were a bit overwhelming. Plus – I’d left behind my Elvis photo. I called home distraught and my understanding mother glued it to cardboard and mailed it to me, and I was able to survive summer camp.

About that time, a friend of my mother’s who had a carpet company got a call that Elvis wanted to replace some carpeting and that he should go to Graceland with some suitable samples. The friend met with Elvis and showed him various sample pieces of carpet. As he walked back to his car, he already had a plan and reached down to liberate a rock from the driveway. Later that week he presented me with a carpet sample that Elvis had fondled and the rock. I put them both in the drawer of my bedside table and every night when I got in bed, I’d reach over, open the drawer, rub the carpet and touch the rock.

Time passed and, unlike all the folks who showed up in Memphis this week, I lost interest and moved on to other singers and groups. I don’t remember when the carpet and rock were discarded. Ahh, if I’d only known that some day there would be an ebay.

More Elvis

An estimated 75,000 fans from around the world passed through the gates at Graceland throughout the night and early morning hours to pay their respects to The King on the 30th anniversary of his death.

In addition to the events I previously described, there’s a major, sold-out concert tonight at the FedEx Forum. The TCB (takin’ care of business) band will headline. The band is composed of all members of Elvis’ band including the Sweet Temptations back-up singers. Through the wonders of technology, they actually present an Elvis concert. From live performance video, they’ve stripped away all the instrumental and back-up vocalist tracks and left only the Elvis vocals. A huge on-stage screen displays the vintage concert and, with the live band on stage, you magically are witnessing what feels like a real Elvis concert. This act tours internationally and draws huge crowds. Since many of his current-day fans weren’t even born when Elvis died, this is the closest they’ll ever get. And for the die-hards, it’s another piece of El heaven.

One of tonight’s highlights will be a duet sung by Lisa Marie (live on stage) and her dad (on videotape). It’s like the Natalie Cole/Nat King Cole music video from some years ago.

On the downside, the excessive heat continues and, regrettably, there have now been eight heat-related deaths. Number eight was a 61-year-old woman from New Jersey who was here for Elvis Week. She was camping in a tent at the RV park behind the Heartbreak Hotel near Graceland. Her body was discovered in the tent. Number seven was a 32-year-old man who was found outside his apartment with a body temperature of 111.

Local meteorologists say that there’s a chance Sunday/Monday that we might catch some rain heading out of the heavy rains in Texas. We can only hope.

Dead Elvis Week

Well, that's not the official name of the observance, but many of the less reverent use the name to differentiate it from the annual January festivities honoring The King’s birthday. Dead Elvis Week, however, is a far bigger deal around here, and this year is the 30th anniversary of his too-early death. Many thousands of people from around the world have traveled to their mecca for this observance. Memphis area hotel rooms have been booked for more than a year. Last week there were even two programs on the Travel Channel about Memphis and Elvis and the upcoming anniversary. It’s huge.

I wouldn’t attempt or desire to tell you everything that’s going on in the area this week, but allow me to provide a sample of the activities you might want to take in if you were visiting Memphis this week.

In a broad-brush stroke, there will be blues, rock and jazz concerts and shows all over town. Mike’s band is playing the Horseshoe Casino this week, and he says they will have larger crowds due to the influx of visitors. Everywhere has larger crowds this week, but the Horseshoe activity will be heightened by the Tribute to the King performance three nights in the main lounge.

An event I’ll be sorry to miss is the annual Dead Elvis Ball at the P&H (poor and hungry) Café downtown. Mike says the P&H is a true joint, but with bar, band and food, I think they have a grand time. The group has already announced, however, that this will be the last year for the ball. Maybe they’ve become bored with their indifference.

Other event choices:
* Elvis Scrapbooking Class at Graceland - $30, two-hours, receive an El scrapbook kit
* Elvis Mass – church services followed by a spaghetti dinner at St. Paul Catholic Church
* At least two “El” impersonator contests
* Events at the zoo and laser concert at the planetarium
* Sing Like a Kid – Elvis Karaoke for children at the museum
* Photos and paintings at the Museum of Art
* Observance yesterday afternoon at the Redbirds (Cardinals’ farm team) baseball game
* Elvis Expo 2007 - Elvis tradeshow with music, movies, celebrity autograph sessions – Cook Convention Center
* Memphis Mafia Reunion at Alfred’s – Q&A, etc. “Memphis Mafia” is the term used to denote Elvis’ hometown buddies who were always around him. Alfred’s is a club on Beale St.
* Elvis International Fan Club Charity Dinner
* Elvis Insiders Conference – two-day event at the Cannon Center for the Performing Arts
* Book signing by Sonny West (one of the Memphis Mafia) – Elvis: Still Taking Care of Business

The highlight of the week is the annual candlelight vigil at Graceland which begins at 8 p.m. on the 15th, the day before the anniversary of Elvis’ death. The faithful start lining up outside the wall encircling Graceland early that day – if not the night before. More than 20,000 are expected.

Side note: When Elvis bought Graceland and the acreage around it, the property was outside Memphis’ city limits. Now it’s in quite a busy area and sits on a broad and busy street. Crowd control and traffic control are major issues. This week’s extreme heat could also present a problem. Today, free water was provided at several locations on Graceland's grounds. They had fans set up on the lawns, and paramedics were on site.

At the appointed hour, which should be about dusk, the gates are opened and visitors are welcomed onto Graceland’s grounds. Each is given a lighted candle. They file up the long driveway, around the mansion and to the back where they somberly pass the graves of Elvis and his parents. The processional continues until everyone in line has passed the gravesite.

Elvis was originally buried at a local cemetery, but there were immediate vandalism problems including people trying to dig up the coffin. His remains were moved to Graceland, as were his mother’s, and a lovely prayer garden was developed. Vernon Presley was later buried there. Jesse, Elvis’ twin who was stillborn, remains buried in Tupelo.

A final Elvis thought:
The Memphis Flyer, self-proclaimed alternative weekly newspaper, had a fascinating article in this week’s issue. The premise: what if El hadn’t died in ’77? What would he have done? Check it out. The article is written as an obit as if Elvis had just died this month.
http://www.memphisflyer.com/memphis/Content?oid=oid%3A31951

Ladies and gentlemen, this week in Memphis Elvis never left the building.

The Courts vs. The Heat

The temperature has topped 100 for the past few days and is expected to be well over 100 for the next week. The only good news to that is the humidity has diminished to a more acceptable level. Last week, stepping outdoors was like walking into a wall of wet gauze.

There have been three heat-related deaths in the area within the last week – the last of which was a high school football player who suffered a heat stroke at afternoon practice when the heat index was 110.

Immediately, a Chancery Court judge issued an injunction prohibiting any and all outdoor school activities within a six-county area between the hours of 7 a.m. and 7 p.m. Band members, cheerleaders, football players – everyone had to move inside. Some teams wisely moved practice to 7 p.m.

But that’s not the end of the story. Almost immediately following the injunction, the state’s High School Activities Association initiated action to appeal the Chancery Court injunction. Within three hours of their appeal being filed, the State Supreme Court hustled into session and declared the injunction null and void.

So the big news in weekend papers is about local educators and coaches being savvy enough to oversee the welfare of their students without court direction. Call me silly, but I think it just might be more about the teams in the six heat-stricken counties coming up against teams this season that had more on-the-turf practice. I hope the desire for winning seasons doesn’t overshadow the dangers of overexertion in this extreme weather.

Weather Whine

The temp this week has been tiptoeing around 100 with a heat index that takes the “feels like” temperature a lot hotter. Last night at 10:30 it had only dropped to 87 degrees with 61 percent humidity. The entire southeast is suffering from the heat wave, but my sympathies are strongly with Niece Shannon who just returned to Morocco.

Just before she left, she talked with her husband who told her that the temp there was expected to reach 118 that week. Very few people in their city, including them, have air conditioning. He also reported that their fan had broken. Her reply went something like this: “I miss you. Anxious to see you. Fix the fan.”

My Life as 'Lucy' Part Two

Egged on by Dennis’ comment below, I’ll share another episode of my life as “I Love Lucy.” This little ditty demonstrates Mike’s eternal sense of humor, but might call to question his wisdom in asking me to marry him for the second time.

When Michael and I were first married, we lived in a tiny, one-bedroom apartment right across the railroad tracks from Memphis State. It was extremely convenient for me to get to class and a little later was perfect when he started playing at an off-campus club just two blocks away. How small was the apartment? Well, from any location in it, you could have heard someone take a deep breath elsewhere in the apartment.

I need to interject that when we married I was surprised to learn that Mike owned a pistol. The thought so terrified me that I made him keep it in a drawer in the bathroom and, further, had him unload it and put the bullets in a separate drawer.

Well, the night finally arrived when I awoke absolutely convinced that some nefarious person was in the apartment. I held my breath and listened and remained convinced. I woke up Mike and quietly whispered my fear to him. He listened then, good young husband that he was, he got up to go check it out.

I lay there listening and realized from his footsteps that he had gone into the bathroom. Then I heard a drawer open. Knowing that he had removed the gun, I got really afraid and called out in a stage whisper, “Don’t load it!!!” There was a momentary pause. The bathroom light flicked on, and Mike loudly said, “Just come on in and shoot me.” In our separate rooms, we both cracked up laughing. Had there been a burglar, I’m sure he would have fled at that point rather than encounter the crazy people who lived there.

I've Been to The Crossroads

In a previous post about meeting Morgan Freeman at his Clarksdale blues club named Ground Zero, I wrote that the club’s name designates Clarksdale as “ground zero” for the blues – the birthplace. Clarksdale is the site of the intersection of Highways 61 and 49, the crossroads where legend tells us that blues singer, composer and guitar player Robert Johnson sold his soul to the devil in exchange for musical mastery. The intersection is now marked by two really, really supersized guitar replicas that are bound together in the shape of a cross. Mike and I drove slowly through the intersection, but did not on that trip get out to pay respects. The story of The Crossroads has been told in song and at least one movie. Robert Johnson’s short life is shrouded in mystery, but here’s a short version of what may be true. He was born in 1911 out of wedlock near Hazelhurst, MS, lived for some time in Memphis, but primarily in small Mississippi towns. Johnson began playing guitar as a teenager and then traveled throughout the Delta and over into Arkansas playing his music. One version of the story says that, at one point, he headed up north, met some really great guitar players and honed his style. When he returned to Mississippi – suddenly an exceptional player – there were those who said that he could not have, on his own, improved to such a degree. He must have sold his soul to the devil. Some say that he started the story himself or at least quietly encouraged it because of the aura it lent him. He continued playing throughout the South and recorded in Mississippi and Texas. The last session in San Antonio, not long before his death, provided many of his songs that made him a music legend. His original Crossroads Blues was later recorded by Eric Clapton. Considered by some to be the grandfather of modern rock and roll, it’s been written that “his vocal phrasing, original songs and guitar style influenced a range of musicians including Led Zeppelin, Bob Dylan, Jimi Hendrix, The Allman Brothers Band, The Rolling Stones, Peter Gabriel, Neil Young, and Clapton who called Johnson "the most important blues musician who ever lived." Rolling Stone Magazine ranked Johnson fifth on its list of greatest guitar players. He was an inductee into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame – in Cleveland, Ohio. Johnson died at the age of 27, purportedly poisoned by a jealous husband. His burial site remained as much a mystery as most of his life had been. In 2002, researchers located an unmarked grave near Greenwood, MS which was believed to hold the remains of Robert Johnson. A headstone was finally provided for him. . . if, in fact, the earth finally claimed him and not the devil.