Clarksdale - I can't let go of it yet

After our exciting evening, we spent the night in the ultra-cool "Legends" shack at Shack Up Inn (check it out at shackupinn.com).

In the morning, reluctant to leave, we talked to Guy, the owner of the Inn. He took us to a huge barn which he is turning into a recording studio/performing space. it looks completely barn-like and run down, but he has the entire thing insulated and adjusted for sound quality. it will be be called the Juke Joint Church when he is done (he ran a recording studio in Memphis before moving out of town). When I told him we saw Robert Plant the night before, he drawled, "Yep. He'll be out here later today. Always stops by when he comes to town."

Well, yeah, but we couldn't stay, so we missed an opportunity to meet him up close and personal. But who knows what "later today" means? Could be at 9 p.m.

We drove into Clarksdale for breakfast and had another cool Clarksdale experience. Ate at the Delta Amusement Cafe which is just a tiny diner with a dog that greets you at the door and romps around your table while you eat. But the highlight here is Puddin' Hatchett. This man is 78 years old, black, no teeth and friendly as the dog was! As soon as we sat down, he pulled a chair up to our table and started talking to us. Started playing tricks: dice tricks and card tricks. He kept repeating, "I'm a baaad man," and he would chuckle. We liked him, let him keep showing us tricks. Then he wanted to show us his photo album and we said yes. He went out to his truck, brought it back and showed up photos of himself, his daughter and his grandkids through the years. Told us how he died back in 1991 when a semi hit him. But "the good lord saved me" and he is alive to tell about it all. However, he can't play the harmonica any longer because it causes a headache, something in the pressure of the harmonica against his teeth and skull.

His photos are also at the Delta Blues Museum - one of him with Morgan Freeman, and one alone, holding up his tricky cards.

While we sat at the table with him, a woman who was in the museum last night and who recommended Madidi to me came in to get coffee. She stopped to say hi to me and ask how we liked the restaurant. After her, five old white men came in for their morning coffee (they all sat at their own table in the back) and each one said "morning, y'all" as they walked past.

You'd think that was enough of the south and southern hospitality but we had one more encounter before we left Clarksdale. At the Cathead gift and music store, the white woman behind the counter was involved in a lengthy conversation with a tall black man. He was dressed in a off-white suit that may have been double-breasted (now i can't remember) and his hair was big, perfect and wavy. Like James Brown at the height of his poufy-hair phase. He was amazing to look at.

Reluctantly we left Clarksdale and drove north. Things were boring after all that. So we drove for hours and hours until we got to Springfield, Illinois so that the next day's drive to Chicago wouldn't be so long. Spent the night at a Baymont Inn and ate mediocre food at a local grill. All we did was just bask in the glow of the previous two days!