“It was a good moment, the kind you would like to press between the pages of a book, or hide in your sock drawer, so you could touch it again.”
― Rick Bragg, All Over But the Shoutin’

Black Warrior River, Tuscaloosa, AL

I think that what Rick Bragg is talking about here, is a spot of time. I had so many moments during my time in Alabama and Gulf Shores that I wish I could press between the pages of a book, to keep forever and revisit when I needed something to remind me of the beautiful things in the world. Spots of time. 

One of these spots of time was the first and only evening that we spent it Gulf Shores. Laura’s family friends moved there after retirement and were so excited to show is around. I was the only who had never been there before. I am a beach lover, I have never lived more than ten minutes away from the beach and I was still in awe of how flawless the beaches were. Bright white, sandy beaches, bright blue water and bight blue skies. Maybe I have over-used this phrase, but it was like nothing I had ever seen before. I will include some pictures of the beach, and of our sunset boat ride, but I can assure you that pictures do not do it justice.

Sunset on the Florida, Alabama state line.

After dinner that night, we went to a famous bar/music venue called “Flora-Bama”. I’ve been hearing about this place for two years, so it was with great anticipation that I walked into this warehouse of a bar. We walked through a gift shop into a dimly lit, open area. You could smell the ocean and see the sand. There was a 90’s cover band finishing out there set. We kept walking until we ended up in another large, dimly lit room where a classic rock band was playing. This room had a dance floor with a pretty good crowd. I was the youngest person in the room by about 20 years, but I was assured that was because it was a Sunday night during off-season. This whole bar is covered in graffiti from various college football players, and rival college students. Room after room, band after bad; again it was like nothing I’d ever seen or experienced before. I could only imagine what it was like during spring break. The next morning we took a boat to a restaurant called “Tacky Jack’s” where I had the most amazing shrimp and grits for breakfast. As I sat there, right on the water – I kept thinking “how is this my life?”. 

Daniel, Laura and Me at Flora-Bama

Gulf Shores

          So many country songs mention “where the blacktop ends”. I found this place in Tuscaloosa, Alabama. We were driving along and suddenly the road turned into rust colored dirt. For miles and miles we drove on a bright orange dirt road – the color contrasted by the blue sky and setting sun. The trees that lined the road were much shorter than the ones here, but are full, bright and beautiful all the same. We drove up to the tiny house on the river, the sun was just kissing the sky goodbye – there were flowers, candles, and the smell of a delicious fried chicken dinner in the air. We had arrived to the Metcalf’s river side oasis. My roommate/travel companion, Laura’s parents showed us the most genuine southern hospitality. We spent three days eating home cooked meals,  and learning what it’s like to live in the south. We were introduced to people who had lived in Tuscaloosa their whole lives. Their parents had, their parents parents had. The culture was radically different than what I grew up knowing. One of the days we were there, we took a tour of the University of Alabama and got to meet some of Laura’s family. In 2011, there was a severe tornado in the city of Tuscaloosa that killed 64 people, and destroyed so much of the town. Almost everyone we met on that trip mentioned something of it, whether it was recalling the day of the tragedy, or rebuilding of the elementary school down the road. Much like New Orleans, people of Tuscaloosa have turned to music to encourage, morn and process the loss and devastation.

During our time on the river, I read a book called “All Over but the Shoutin’” by Rick Bragg. Rick Bragg was one of Laura’s professors when she was a student at the University of Alabama, and the cousin of her God-father. Laura suggested his nonfiction books to me because his writing is honest, and true to his life growing up as a poor white boy. He recalls with deep revere about his mother, and her strength raising three children by herself. It’s hard not to read this book without hearing his deep southern drawl in your mind. I sat for two days on the Black Warrior river, listening to the sounds of birds, barges and laughter while I read this book. It gave my imagination a break – as I felt like I was already in the setting.

In a lot of ways, his book reminded me of the writing I am doing now, with these blogs – really just recalling and processing real life events; a memoir. In my next post, I will work hard to synthesis all of these experiences and touch more on the connections I have made between history, city, rural and urban sounds. For now, I think it’s important to just remember and reflect on my experiences. While I know this program is not about making value statements on the places we traveled to; I’m going to come right out and say it. I love Alabama. I love all of the people I met, I love how rich in history the city of Tuscaloosa is, I love how different the trees and landscape is, and I love that I didn’t eat a single vegetable the entire time I was there. Everything was different, and beautiful and I would go back tomorrow If I had the opportunity.