Drive to New Orleans

For many people Friday night and the phrase "complete abandonment" means excitement and wild activity. Along the main drag of Stuttgart, in the Springtime at least, it means the opposite. Absence of life; stillness and solitude; storefronts closed and shuttered; not a neon sign to be seen. It was mainly a drag... at least as how I saw it at the time. My phone yodeled at me as I walked, it was my brother calling.

"Hey, I'm going to be in New Orleans for a volleyball tournament next week. Come on down, we can spend some time together."

It was a good enough excuse for me. I hadn't seen my brother for a few years and New Orleans was only four-hundred-something miles away—the closest we have been for a few years. Though my intent was to mosey North, out of the heat, any other place sounded better than Stuttgart at the moment. The next morning I waived farewell to the rice paddies and headed south.

I broke all protocol on the drive: I drove straight through (8.5 hours!) at speeds over 55 miles per hour (Yikes, how the scenery flashed past!) and between Baton Rouge and New Orleans I even drove on an interstate! *Gasp!* But along the way I stopped for a few snapshots. On an isolated stretch of highway 165 between Dewitt and Gillett, Arkansas, you will pass Charlie's Service. Charlie built a man out of tires. It stands something over twenty-feet tall. Wave back as you pass.

There are a few lake communities. The lakes were formed by the Great Mississippi clipping short one of her bends and isolating a pocket of water allowing the mud to settle and the water to become a clear blue. Lake Village, Arkansas nestles up against one of these. What a lovey sign that some might think has seen better days, others might consider it coming into the prime of it patina.

At Natchez I crossed from Louisiana into Mississippi. Natchez is situated on a bluff overlooking the river on the Mississippi side. Immediately the folia changed, I saw my first kudzu. The air even smelled different—like Jasmine and Pine. About five miles beyond Natchez, Mississippi, I passed by Mammy's Cupboard. I took the next opportunity to turn around and go back for photos.

Unfortunately, I was too late to have lunch under her skirts, but what a wonderful building. The dress part is made, igloo fashion, out of bricks; her upper torso of Ferro-cement. She is a wonderful bit of folk-architecture of a class not to be attempted again.