Everyone has heard of Memphis, Tennessee. Since my family lived there for more than a decade, when I hear the name of the city, I may have different thoughts than most.

I think of Elvis, Graceland, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., and grits, just like you, of course.

But I also have memories of friends, experiences, and learnings that made living in the South one of the best periods of our lives. Was it better than other places we've lived? Yes, in some ways, but overall, Memphis was simply different, and that's what I liked about it.

Living in various parts of the country definitely broadened my education and allowed me and my family to experience different cultures and experiences that we would not have had if we hadn't lived in places like San Francisco, Los Angeles, Cincinnati and Memphis.

Plus, because I traveled extensively and at different times was involved with or responsible for restaurants in 46 of the 50 states (not all at once), I've had the chance to experience America firsthand.

For about a decade of the 25 years spent roaming around the country, our family lived in Memphis. Most Bostonians moving to that city would naturally be in shock in a variety of ways because the customs and society there can be very different from the Northeast.



To complicate our personal ‘culture’ shock, we didn't move there from Massachusetts, but we moved there from Los Angeles and went from ‘fast and superficial’ to ‘slow and authentic’, and it took a bit to adjust.

True story: after we moved to Memphis from LA, I joked that we were moving back to the United States because Memphis 'normal' was very different from Marina del Rey 'normal.' Later that same week, I saw a furniture ad in a local magazine that indicated the items were 'imported from California.' I guess I wasn't alone.

The years in Memphis, living less than a mile from Mississippi, some things were 'different' and better, and, of course, some were 'different' and maybe worse.

How different was Memphis compared to other places?



Let’s start with the fact that Memphis had two Mayors and one daily newspaper. That took some getting used to. A Mayor for the city and a Mayor for the County and the city was within the county.

Easter Dinner

Easter dinner one of our first years in Tennessee was...different. We were guests of a local family, and we didn’t have a ham dinner, we had catfish cooked outside in a deep fryer. That was quite a surprise, even though we developed a ‘hankering’ for catfish while we were living there, we did not serve it at our house on future holiday meals.



Another time we were playing Trivial Pursuit and we seemed to have most of the answers. After the question “Who was the Maid of Orleans?” either my wife or I knew the answer and it shocked the local couples, who promptly declared they wanted their kids to go to school in Massachusetts since we were so smart the schools must be great. Maybe all of that is true, but the answer was Joan d’Arc and we didn’t think it was a hard question.

Graceland & the Strip Mall

No story about Memphis would be complete without mentioning our experiences at Graceland. Been there a dozen times, signed the wall, and enjoyed it at Christmas when it is all lit up.

But the real highlight of the visit was the strip mall across the street where you could get anything, anything, with the image of Elvis on it. Clothing, shampoo, clocks, chairs, t-shirts, leather jackets, mugs, glassware, socks, lunchboxes, wind chimes, pillows, posters, garden gnomes and stones, playing cards, steering wheel covers, jumpsuit Christmas ornaments, blue suede shoes, blankets, bobbleheads, music boxes, aprons, salt and pepper shakers, toothpick holders, shopping bags, sunglasses with sideburns attached, slippers, scrunchies, underwear, soap, eyeglass cases, kitchen mitts, jigsaw puzzles, wallets, license plates, dinner plates, cookie cutters, hats, gift wrap, sweaters, life-size cardboard cutouts, mini-speakers, notebooks, car decals, shiny disco suits, Christmas stockings, wordsearch puzzle books, coasters, decanters, key rings, umbrellas, shower curtains and bath sets, purses, car seat covers, onesies, candles, blue suede rubber duckies, and heating pads, to mention a few. And that was just the start.

War of Northern Aggression

We were welcomed to the Memphis community by everyone we met, except for one jerk on my first day of work, and it was really the only time our 'Yankee-ness' negatively impacted one of us.

The Marketing Director of the company I had joined, asked me to step into his office, shut the door and sat down at his desk. When I started to sit down, he told me not to. I looked up surprised and he said: "Just so we are clear, it was the "War of Northern Aggression." Now get out of here."

Well, well. I left, when I realized he wasn't kidding.

Needless to say, we had a strained relationship. About six months later we had to travel together to a new store opening in Pottsville, Pennsylvania (a real place) and then had to drive to Hartford, Connecticut in a blizzard. I drove and made some smartass comment about Yankees coming in handy sometimes, because he was petrified of the snow and the road conditions. It was the only time I faced that kind of prejudice.

Lucky Family

We moved to Memphis for the job. Once there the primary health care needs of our son were orthopedic. We were directed to a place called the Campbell Clinic, where he received superior care.

We later learned that the textbook used in most medical schools was "Core Orthopedic Procedures," developed at the same Campbell Clinic. Our son's primary physician, James Beaty, was one of the authors/curators of the book. Pure luck to have that level of care.

Monkey See, Monkey Do?

There was a time that my experience with snow paid dividends. During the first snowstorm of our time in Memphis, I realized we didn't have a snow shovel. Why would we? Chances were good that the local stores didn't have any snow shovels either. In fact, the area didn't have any snowplows, except at the airport.

When the snow stopped, I took a scrap piece of plywood, probably 2-feet by 4-feet and used it to push snow off the driveway. Later that day, we observed the two neighbors across the street clearing their driveway. They cut a 2-foot by 4-foot piece of plywood and were pushing the snow. They figured that the Yankee must know what he's doing.

Lobstermania

One of the highlights of our Memphis experience was an event we created and sustained for most of the time we lived there.

We held this social event, typically a couple of times a year with a bigger celebration on the Fourth of July and self-titled it ‘Lobstermania’. No one we met in that southern city knew how to eat a lobster, and as New Englanders, we were the experts. We’d regularly have friends over and do the whole shebang: bibs, claw crackers, butter, placemat with directions, wet naps, etc. and one of us would demonstrate how to crack the claws, push the tail meat out and so forth.

Fireworks

There were two reasons the Fourth of July was the biggest Lobstermania of the year. First, we lived about a mile from the state of Mississippi, where fireworks sales were legal. Each year we’d head down there and get rockets, sparklers and other things you’d go to jail for having in your possession in Massachusetts. 

Second, we’d shoot them off on Independence Day in our back yard. Our back yard happened to be an 18-acre lake with about two dozen houses backing up to it. Almost everyone on the lake went to Mississippi to get fireworks and shoot them off on Independence Day.



So, we invited neighbors, co-workers, a priest or two, and families we knew from Joe's school. We rarely had people decline those Fourth of July invitations: how could you pass on lobsters and fireworks?

Pheasant Run Men's Club

Five other guys in the neighborhood, (not the five guys who started the burger joint), joined with me and we created a social club one year at the holiday Lobstermania. There was a guy from Missouri, another from California, another from New York, one from Michigan and one from Memphis. Four of us had young children at home and it was hard to connect after work because of childcare responsibilities.

We formed the Pheasant Run Men’s Club, because we all lived on Pheasant Run Lane. We didn’t do any hunting, but we got together every month to hang out and mostly drink beer and shoot the breeze. Sometimes we had theme nights. For example, I remember ‘Sh*tty Beer Night’ where we all brought a six-pack of non-premium beer only available in our home area to share. (I brought Narragansett, for those who wonder).



The Men’s Club worked out well: six guys meshed well with six-packs if you know what I mean. Eventually we had an initiation ceremony when a couple of guys wanted to join. We made them drink a warm Guiness, a beer none of us could stand.

The Best Part

The part of living in Memphis that kept us there through a couple of job changes, meaning, we didn't want to leave, were actually the people and the pace of life. It was clearly slower and more polite. You may ask what those were key factors in staying there and I can give you a simple reason.

Our son was disabled from birth. He moved a little bit slower, whether he was using a walker, crutches, a wheelchair or none of the above.

Because the pace of everything in Memphis was a tad slower, he was able to be closer to the pace of the world by following his natural pace. Living in Memphis made our lives closer to normal, if that was a thing.

In addition, wherever we went when we traveled, whether that was to Florida, New Orleans, or Chicago, kids would stare at him, and some would even blurt out 'what's wrong with his legs?' But not in Memphis. Never happened. People might have been thinking it, but you know that thinking and speaking can have two different impacts.

Politeness has its value.

Memphis was different, I'm glad we lived there, it was a great place to grow and grow up. And I'm saving the duck story for a future Weblog.

37 Years Later