Barry and I were standing outside the BP convenience store on Riverside Drive sipping on yet more Gatorade waiting for someone we’d never met to come pick us up. Alas, our ride was officially over. Or was it? For a few hours more we would be basking in the afterglow of the experience.
after-glow 1 : a glow remaining where a light has disappeared 2 : a pleasant effect or feeling that lingers after something is done, experienced, or achieved
Yes, the ride was over, but after all, the journey itself is the destination. And there was still more journey to go. Jeff Jones soon arrived in his air conditioned minivan, loaded in two tired bicycles and two tired bicyclists and conveyed us to a Baptist Collegiate Ministries building a few blocks away. Jeff is the director of this student ministry organization for the University of Memphis, formerly Memphis State University. Jeff told us that not all alums are happy with the name change. Jeff is a Union University (Jackson, Tennessee) grad. He and his wife have four kids.
The BCM building had showers where we could clean up so as not to offend clientele later at the Peabody Hotel or Rendezvous Restaurant. The building is located adjacent to the campus of the University of Tennessee School of Medicine, where missionary Bill Wallace received his training many decades ago. Wallace, a native of Knoxville, served as a medical missionary to China and endured the Japanese invasion during World War II and the Communist takeover that occurred after the war. The Communist officials falsely accused him of espionage and confined him to prison, where they eventually beat him to death, to the sorrow of the many Chinese who loved the compassionate doctor. The BCM building has a library dedicated to this martyr’s memory.
Refreshed and smelling a little sweeter, we climbed back into Jeff’s van and headed toward the Peabody Hotel. The Peabody is an institution in Memphis, another classic example of the preservation of southern tradition. Jeff proposed to his wife on the roof of the Peabody. The cavernous lobby of this luxury hotel exudes elegance and includes a huge marble fountain which serves as the daytime playground for five ducks. The ducks live in their penthouse home, Duckingham Palace, at night. Every morning at 11:00 a.m. a “Duckmaster” in resplendent uniform with a fancy cane rolls out a red carpet from the elevator to the fountain. The ducks march out to their oversized birdbath to the background music of John Phillip Sousa’s “King Cotton March.” At exactly 5:00 p.m. the Duckmaster escorts the feathered celebrities back down the red carpet and up to their rooftop home. When a lady in the crowd of spectators asked the Duckmaster why he had to wait until exactly 5:00 p.m., he replied, “Because ducks do not expect to leave until five o’clock! Besides,” he added, “it’s a southern tradition.”
The tradition began in the 1930’s with two inebriated duck hunters sneaking their live decoys into the fountain as a joke. Within a few years hotel Bellman Edward Pembroke, a former animal trainer, began to march the ducks out to the fountain every day. He would continue in the capacity of Duckmaster for the next fifty years. The pomp and circumstance on display as the ducks march is truly a sight worth seeing in Memphis.
After witnessing the spectacle of the ducks, we needed to sample only one more Memphis tradition to make this trip complete: a rack of Charles Vergos’s famous Rendezvous ribs. After pedaling ninety-six miles in two days, we were ready for a hearty meal. Rendezvous did not disappoint. The outside of the place doesn’t look like much. The entrance is accessed by a narrow alley. Once inside the front door, a narrow staircase leads the hungry customer down to the underground, windowless dining area, where somewhat brusque waiters serve the patrons. Memphis memorabilia adorns the walls, while paper placemats regale the diner with the virtues of the establishment’s dry rub ribs: “Not since Adam has a rib been this famous.” “Hard as it is to believe, some folks don’t eat pork ribs every chance they get.” And my personal favorite, “About as far as a pig can go in this world.” The ribs were not the fall-off-the-bone kind; you have to work and chew to get the meat off. It truly adds to the culinary experience.
A retired student minister joined us for the meal: Charles Ray Griffin. Barry had recently reconnected with him and invited him to meet us at Rendezvous. This gracious servant of the Lord was thrilled to see Barry again, whom he knew as an MSU student in the 1970’s. Charles and Jeff had not met previously but had much to talk about regarding student ministry.
So with bellies full of barbecue and hearts full of memories, we started back to Jackson. Jeff and I compared notes on our respective ministry experiences as he drove. Old traditions, new friends—that ‘s what this ride has been all about. And let’s not forget old friends as well. Barry and I would drive on from Jackson to Nashville that night, where his parents had offered me lodging prior to returning home the next morning.
Tennessee is not universally beautiful and wholesome. It has its share of problems. I did encounter some negative, though minor, facets of the state. However, I ignored or downplayed these aspects. My desire is not unlike that of the late Norman Rockwell, who painted the wholesome view of Americana to the exclusion of anything negative or depressing. Rockwell did not believe our society was actually so pure and unspoiled; but he wanted to help people see the beauty and goodness around them and inspire them to something higher and better. Likewise, my desire has been to help my fellow citizens see the evidence of the hand of the Lord even in an imperfect Tennessee. Such blessings have made this slice of Tennessee a rare delicacy. Now if you’ll excuse me, I believe I’ll have me another slice.
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