While obviously, Tupelo is most famous for being the birthplace of Elvis, where his family home now has a museum next to it, a late Civil War battle was fought here too. The Union troops defended the railway, but you have to use your imagination to follow the battle. There’s a small memorial on an acre in town. Here’s a photo.
Here’s the link to my visits to all parks in Mississippi.
Their home is currently closed to the public. It’s in a residential neighborhood, and the park service is figuring out how to reopen it. The normal setting underscores the shocking assassination of civil rights leader Medgar Evers in June of 1963. They had prepared for a drive by attack (note the door is on the side), but not for a waiting sniper. Two all white juries failed to convict his assassin who sat on the local ”White Citizens Council”, but in 1994 a conviction was won. Myrlie continues to fight for civil rights, and Medgar, a Normandy veteran, is buried at Arlington National Cemetery.
Here’s the link to my visits to all parks in Mississippi.
The fighting here lasted the last six months of the Civil War, and the steep hilly terrain is now covered with placards, cannon, graves, memorials, and statues. The road out to my home state’s memorial was under construction, so I turned around near the statue above.
I was momentarily confused, since the plaque says “1st and 3rd Mississippi Infantry Regiments, African American Descent”. I knew that the confederates had no African American soldiers, at least not at this point of the war, when the Union offered full freedom to enslaved people who joined. Then I realized that these were escaped slaves from Mississippi who formed regiments in liberated Louisiana and returned as soldiers to fight slavery. Their units represented a future, free Mississippi, not the old, slavery Mississippi. Later I read about the statue and learned that the man on the right is looking back at slavery, while the man on the left is looking forward to freedom.
Here’s the link to my visits to all parks in Mississippi.
The “trace” or trail from Natchez to Nashville is now a parkway, under strict protection of the park service which limits development. The National Scenic Trail, also a park unit, has miles of hiking & equestrian trails along the way. I’ve more or less driven the length now, with lots of side trips to nearby sights, and the dense spring foliage is beautiful, soothing and seems endless.
The first stop traditionally is at Mount Locust pictured above, and the route was typically used northbound, returning by boat. The trail is far older than our country, as French fur traders followed Native American trading routes that had been used for thousands of years. After the steamship was invented, most people stopped walking, which put an end to the proprietor’s lucrative business of selling whiskey, food and basic shelter at the ”stand” or simple roadside inn.
We tend to see history as inevitable, and don’t often think about what might or should have been different. But the people back then were constantly trying to learn, make changes and adapt. The land in the photo belonged to Native Americans, then was claimed by England, then by America, then worked by slaves who turned sharecroppers, and is now run by the park service. At each transition there was loss and opportunity. Only fortunate and adaptable people made it through turbulent changes. Injustice was resolved by war. No success or failure was inevitable. In hindsight, better choices could and should have been made.
I need to believe that we’re capable of learning, making changes and adapting. Dramatic change is inevitable, common behaviors suddenly become unthinkable, and those who can’t change usually suffer most. The extent of damage from the climate crisis has not yet been determined. Not all the coming extinctions are inevitable. The actions we take today make a difference to our future. We must stop burning carbon now, no matter how inconvenient, and we must prepare for the coming challenges.
Natchez was the second largest slave market in the US (after New Orleans), but almost nothing remains. From here, many were walked to plantations up the Natchez Trace. The park service recently acquired part of the ”Forks of the Road” slave market for an interpretive site, which includes the actual slave chains pictured above. The hand in the photo is of a woman who is planting flowers to beautify the site. She explained to me that she feels compelled to do something due to the profoundly disturbing history of tens of thousands of humans sold into bondage for generations. When she first arrived here, she had trouble sleeping, and she imagines the voices of the enslaved calling out for help.
She asked me if I thought that strange, and I said it was by far the best perspective I had heard today.
I had just finished touring the Melrose mansion in the park, and all the glamour of the place left me feeling quite ill. The home of a Pennsylvanian lawyer turned plantation owner, it has all the ostentatious luxury that money could buy, with slaves next to the barn, above the laundry and dairy, and in the basement, all trained to come running at the sound of a bell. And 350 slaves working on plantations out of sight. I had to ask about those 350 slaves who actually brought in the cotton, since the placards only described a few house slaves, “laughing” and enjoying their “leisure”. The other visitors had seen the TV shows and movies filmed in the well-preserved mansion, and they seemed impressed by the lifestyles of the rich and morally reprehensible.
I could only hear the bells ringing years ago, and later, I too heard the voices.
Here’s the link to my visits to all parks in Mississippi.
This is a large, multi-purpose, multi-unit park. On a previous visit I visited one of the Acadian (Cajun) cultural centers and the 1815 Chalmette Battlefield (read the pirate Lafitte’s story here), so this time I figured I should see the swamp at the Barataria Preserve. I didn’t see any alligators, but the ranger said they were probably under the boardwalk. He also said I might find one if I went on a more remote trail, explaining logically that no tourists had returned from that section today.
Folks around here are under a lot fewer illusions about the Climate Crisis than other places, out of direct experiences. The signs were more blunt than in other parks, explaining that the beautiful ecosystem above is being killed by rising oceans. If we had time to adapt, then we could learn techniques for dealing with storm surge, flooding, etc. But it doesn’t seem like enough people care.
Here’s the link to my visits to all parks in Louisiana.
On a New Years dare, a young Louis Armstrong fired a pistol in the air here and changed both his own fate and the world. He was taken from his home here with the Karovskys (recently reduced by hurricane to a brick pile above) and sent to reform school, where he joined the band. The Karovskys lent him money for a trumpet, and he joined King Oliver’s band playing the Eagle Saloon in the foreground and the Iroquois Theater next door. Remembered by many for the “Wonderful World” end of his career, it was his astounding trumpet skills that made him a breakthrough star. He recorded both the first Jazz solo (multi-bar & improvisational) and the first use of scatting. Despite racial barriers, he played all over and converted many into Jazz lovers. Of all his accolades, he was proudest of being Mardi Gras Zulu King in his hometown.
The block is eventually going to be restored. Sorry for not giving NOLA a longer entry, but I’m posting sporadically from the road. Lessez les bons temps rouler.
Here’s the link to my visits to all parks in Louisiana.
When I visited this park with my kids, we went to the east unit. Both units are in the greater Tucson area, but both are a decent drive away from the center of town in different directions. So, I was glad to have a chance to see the other side. Although the visitor center is a bit nicer in the west, the east unit has a scenic cactus forest drive where you can easily get out and take a closer look. Both have plenty of saguaro (suh-Wah-ro) to see.
Here’s the link to my visits to all parks in Arizona.
The Spanish Mission is not far from the banks of the Santa Cruz River, where I came upon this beautiful spot. The trail near here has more hoof prints than footprints and is supported by the active local equestrians. A lovely broad-billed hummingbird swooped down to see what I was doing, but I almost never have time to take decent wildlife photos.
The church grounds are impressive, with a large orchard cultivated with help from a local university, a courtyard garden, a small museum with a long pair of moccasins, and the old church in an evocative state of decay. But, in a sign of our ecologically vulnerable times, the most rare part of the park is the lush riparian area pictured.
Here’s the link to my visits to all parks in Arizona.
They’re not exactly sure which river valley Coronado walked up with his plumed helmet, shining cuirass, retinue, soldiers and slaves on his way to find the seven cities of gold, but from the bluff here, you can see both. Apparently, a couple natives convinced him to walk as far as Kansas, before he realized it was a ruse and executed them.
The park is near the Mexican border, and someday there’s hope that there will be a sister park on the other side. Of course these days, some people are paranoid about migrants crossing illegally, so there were plenty of warnings and border patrol operations nearby. I can’t see anybody climbing all the way up here without a vehicle. The road up is unpaved and there’s parking a short hike from where I took the photo. Although the road is rough, it presented a scenic shortcut to my next destination.
Here’s the link to my visits to all parks in Arizona.
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