ROCK ME BABY

It is ironic that I have been driving through Memphis, Tennessee for lots of years, staying on the Interstate, stopping only for gas. In July, I spent two days there and kick myself for not stopping sooner. I don’t think it matters which direction you come from, the roads all seem to lead downtown, to Union Avenue and Beale Street. Yesterday I got off the Interstate, onto Riverside Dr. to Beale and found an empty parking meter. It was rush hour with busy traffic and the space was tight. A rough looking, ragged man was standing by the meter. When I noticed him over my shoulder, he was already giving me hand signals, like the ground crew guys at the air port. I didn’t need the help, my car with the back-up camera has made parking easy. When I approached the meter with coin purse in hand he was pointing at the digital display. “You get one hour for four quarters.” He said. “If you need another minute, you have to pay for another hour.” He was humble and courteous. He couldn’t know how difficult it is for me to read small print, in low or bright light but his help was timely. I thanked him and fished out four quarters. “If you have any spare quarters, I could sure use some help.” Without staring, I sized him up. His haircut was reasonable and my face needed a shave as much as his. But his body language and rumpled clothing spoke to me of a street person. I told him that I didn’t carry much cash when I travel but I did pull out my wallet. I knew I had a $10, a $5 and a few $1’s. He sensed I was going to give him something. “It costs $6 for a bed at the shelter,” he said, ”and I only have a dollar and change.” I gave him the $5 and his “Thank you” sounded either well rehearsed or sincere. He started up the street as I turned to the crosswalk, across from BB King’s Blues Club. 

Inside, I was seated in front of the stage where a huge screen projection system was playing selected clips from BB King concerts, duets with other famous musicians. The service was fast and before you know, my small rib dinner was coming out of the kitchen. I don’t usually flaunt pictures of food. When I see that I take it at face value, believing first that the person was really feeling good and the food just made it better. It wasn’t the first time I’d had this meal and I knew exactly what to expect. You have to handle the ribs carefully or the meat falls off before you can get it to your mouth. I had to decide where to start; beans first, slaw then the ribs or . . . on the big screen BB introduced Jeff Beck and they took off together on “Rock Me Baby.” This is the point where you know how really good I”m feeling, good enough to post a photo of my food. I thought about the guy at the parking meter. I know that 9 out of 10 times, they will have a great story but spend the money on booze or drugs. I knew it when I gave him the $5. At that point it didn’t matter. I hope he slept well either way. Leaving the club I had to wait a moment for a couple standing in the door. They were in their 40’s maybe, both thin and hard looking, both in sleeveless shirts and full sleeve tattoos. They were deciding to come in or go somewhere else. They came in. I waited for the stop light to change, could see my car half a block away. In those seconds I thought about the homeless black man and the biker couple. My mom would have said to me, “There but for the Grace of God . . .”  I know, I know mom. The couple probably knew where they were going to sleep anyway, and weren’t worried about the next meal. They might be better off than me but I’m both lucky and grateful. I’ll be in the French Quarter tomorrow for more good music and sinful food. I trust the biker couple can take care of themselves but I have second thoughts for the homeless guy. I'll have to fall back on Joseph Campbell who said, “Participate in the sorrows of the world.  We can not cure the world of sorrows, but we can choose to live in joy.”