When last we left them, the adventurous Dias sisters were spending the night in Truman, Arkansas, the Buttonwillow of the South. Up at a reasonable hour, breakfast consumed, and Stella with a full tank, we headed south toward the Shiloh battlefield via Corinth, Mississippi.
The transition between Arkansas and Mississippi was like traveling into a foreign country. A third-world foreign country. What is wrong with this state? Dead animals litter the roadway. Even the wooded areas look creepy--like the trees have been cursed by an evil wizard. Alongside the highway were rusting manufactured homes, junk yards, and the ubiquitous Dollar General stores. What the hell is up with these stores? There is one at every wide spot in the road. The only thing more common in this part of the country than Dollar General stores are churches and junk yards. There are two dead cars for every live car and a church for every six Christians.
One particularly interesting Mississippi sight was that of an African American young man, riding a horse along the highway median, and staring down at his cell phone. A modern cowboy sans cows!
We were just reaching Corinth and ready to turn toward Shiloh when we spotted a sign pointing the way to Tuscumbia, Alabama. Suddenly, the Shiloh battlefield had no interest for me--not when Helen Keller's birth place, Ivy Green, was just ninety minutes away. I made a good choice!
Ivy Green turned out to be a delightful place, and the historical tingle was there in full force. The house, built by Helen's grandfather in 1820, looks smaller than it was portrayed in the film version of The Miracle Worker. Inside, the nicest lady gave us the tour and seemed extra excited when we identified ourselves as being from California. Unlike the Laura Ingalls Wilder home, we could take photographs of the rooms and in the little museum.
The guide told us that 85% of the objects on display in the house belonged to the Keller family. These were enhanced by various items and photographs related to Helen, Teacher (Annie Sullivan), and secretary Polly Thompson. All three women are buried together in the National Cathedral in D.C., where the girls, Yvette, and I saw them several years ago.
It was amazing to see the closet in which Helen locked her mother and the dining room where Helen and Teacher duked it out over table manners. I must have seen The Miracle Worker with Anne Bancroft and Patty Duke a dozen times, plus reading all kinds of books as a girl about Helen and Annie. It all came to life!
For me, the best part of the site was the famous pump where Helen Keller first understood that the signs Teacher had been making in her hand meant something. The fact that you could touch that pump just boggles the mind. Talk about history tingle!
The gardens around the home are gorgeous, with several memorials established by Lions Clubs. Behind the gift shop, an outdoor theater hosts the original play The Miracle Worker every Friday and Saturday night throughout the summer.
NOTE: As I explained to my father after Tricia and I got back to Knoxville, seeing the sites linked to Laura Ingalls Wilder and Helen Keller made my 12-year-old-self very happy. I've been to the Anne Frank house in Amsterdam, so now the only thing left on that little girl bucket list is to locate the home of Black Beauty.
Back to my story....
Leaving Ivy Green, we drove around a little to see the town. While the outskirts of Tuscumbia weren't that nice, the city center was absolutely adorable, right down to the columned courthouse with the Confederate statue dedicated in 1911 by the local UDC. I could soooo live at Helen's house!
It was time to start back toward Knoxville. So we headed out across the top of Alabama. Hungry after our sightseeing, we stopped at a Huddle House diner in Scottsboro for a bite. While Tricia settled for a nice chicken sandwich, I went for the smothered biscuits. Smothered indeed! Biscuits, gravy, hash browns, bacon, eggs, and cheese--OMG!
While having our lunch, we were treated to a little bit of "Southern color," courtesy of the man and woman behind us.
Man: When I feel low, I think about my wife and son.
Woman: You don't have a wife and son.
Man: Yeah, but I think about what I would do if I had them.
Following this exchange, there was a lot of talk about a milkshake and whether it had been paid for. The man told Tricia that he was "just a cut-up," but we were both pretty sure something more (or perhaps less?) was going on there. We got back into Stella and hightailed it out of Scottsboro.
One of the unexpected highlights of taking our particular route back to Knoxville was that our highway passed right next to the Davidson Center for Space Exploration, home of one of the space shuttles and the famous Space Camp. We saw a sign for the Von Braun Museum, but that will have to wait for another day (or when Reiner visits).
We reached Knoxvilke by about seven. A quick run to the store for ice cream, and we were in for the night. Today was spent running errands, driving around the campus, and doing some shopping for the apartment. We had lunch at Cheddars, where Tricia delighted in her Monte Cristo sandwich--it reminded her of the old Mansion Inn and a sighting of one of the Hudson Brothers. A nice dip in the complex pool, and now I want to finish this blog and get some food.
Tomorrow, Tricia is driving down to Atlanta to visit friends, while I stay here--and I'd better use that time for some Feller reading. But, for now, it's....
Knighty-Knight from Knoxville.
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