I took a bit of a hiatus this week to chase some goals more and be on social media less, which I guess does not make for a good blogger. At any rate, I have accomplished a ton, and I am eager to tell you about what I’ve got cookin’ soon.

We waited until Dad got home from work yesterday to set out on our Friday Adventure. A quick 25-minute trip down the road took us to The Hollywood Cafe in Robinsonville, Mississippi. You might know of it specifically mentioned in Marc Cohn’s song, “Walking in Memphis”.

“Muriel plays piano every Friday at The Hollywood,

They brought me down to see her,

And asked me if I would do a little number,

And I sang with all my might.

She said, ‘Tell me are you a Christian child,’

And I said, ‘Ma’am, I am tonight…’.”

Since we live relatively close to The Hollywood, we have eaten there many times before, and years ago we drove past it daily back and forth to work, it seems like just another place. In the mood for a different atmosphere and (hopefully) some good Southern food, we thought it might be a good place to revisit.

When you see it, amidst a few trees and a ratty old house or two, it doesn’t look like much. It’s hard to believe the building housed a Commissary on a plantation once upon a time.

While we feasted on fried green tomatoes and onion rings, in anticipation of catfish and hamburger steak, I looked at the paint-chipped ceiling and wondered what all it had seen and heard. Blues and spirituals, pianos and feet stomping, tears and wails…

I thought it a disservice to the place that banners on the wall asserted that its fried pickles made it famous. I like to think the voice of bluesman, Son House, who sang there on a Mississippi plantation did. His soul, so many souls…The Blues…made it famous.

The history, the vibe, and the turnip greens did not disappoint.

We left there and drove a mile or so toward the casino lights to The Full House. Yep, drove around the pumps of a crusty convenience store to stop and admire it briefly and giggle with Brady. For it was there, in the land of the Delta Blues, at that very spot that I kissed Keith for the first time. Romantic, right?

You might giggle, too…heck, we all do everytime we talk about it. It’s true, though, and it’s a moment I will never forget as long as I live.

To hear Keith tell it, I pulled him (forcefully and unwillingly) into my car window, and his feet came off the ground, kicking out behind in resistance until he was released. He tells the story with flourish and holds up two fingers fluttering like his feet had allegedly been that day he was being aggressively man-handled despite his protest by little 21 year old me. I just stay quiet and smile with an eye roll.

I say all the time that, at his funeral, I’m going to stop the proceedings, pull up a chair, and take my time setting the record straight on a whole lot of the nonsense stories he tells, including that one. It was one of the greatest moments of my life. (He will ruefully agree that it was one of the greatest moments of his, too, while he flutters those two fingers.)

Until then, we will continue walking in Memphis and other such places on our Friday Adventures, exploring and laughing (and some of us lying) while we enjoy new or maybe sometimes old, familiar places. It’s always a good time.

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