Adventure 738: Backyard RV Resort Montgomery, AL/Post B

After another round of pounding rain last night, we awoke to the promised blue sky. And blue it was for the Cager when I skunked her to the tune of 52 to regain the March lead. I felt as full of myself as some campaign shouting Southern diplomat. After breakfast we took the side roads to downtown Montgomery. Naturally, those roads took us through some distressed neighborhoods. Downtown Montgomery itself seems to hang under the weight of time and regret. Once stately mansions, now decayed, sprinkle the hillsides like so many antebellum dreams. If it weren't for the state house and the cluster of government buildings, the city would be shrouded in a fog of despair. It seems ironic that the main attractions, The Legacy Museum, The River Walk, and The Peace and Justice Memorial, are are rebuilt structures on the bones of the slave trade. And what  to do about the legacy? Except for the loud cackle of some white woman greeting friends, we spent a few hours draped in solemn recollection of sad injustice, violent disrespect, and a complete disregard for righteousness. It weighs heavily, not just on my sensibilities, but on the conscience of a nation. Yet, there is a duality as well. We ate lunch at a BBQ joint called Dreamland. Our waiter was African American. We sat next to some young white men who were extremely polite to him, and just in front of us was a table of six lovely black ladies enjoying themselves and their lunch. No one seemed worried about history. When we toured the Peace and Justice Memorial, which is a stunningly powerful work of art, one of the docents, a young African American woman, asked me if I had any questions. I replied, "Too many to ask." She said, "I hear ya." When we had time to decompress, both Judy and I are glad we came. We don't have any answers for the myriad of troubles facing us in this world, but our approach is to fill the space with as much positivity as possible. In the meantime, if you can answer the following poll questions, you'll be allowed to vote in Alabama: 

1. How many bubbles are in a bar of soap?

2. How many windows can be counted at the White House in Washington, D.C.?

3. In what year did Congress gain the right to prohibit the migration of persons to the state?

There are seven more, each more vaguely vile than the next. I bring this up to say that I wish voter suppression was a thing of the past. One other point. I'm reading a book by Stephen Deusner about the band, The Drive-by Truckers. They are Southern boys who at once are proud of their heritage and embarrassed by it at the same time. They bring up something I've noticed in our travels, but didn't really look at it in the way they describe. I'm talking about segregation. It's alive and well all over America. It certainly exists in Spokane, where we live. It's dramatic here in the South. I've just not considered what the Truckers suggest: that it's a freedom prison. In other words, people of color are allowed to live freely as long as they stay in their place. Not right. Civil rights have come a long way. Clearly, there's some distance to travel yet. I'm grateful we get a chance to contemplate how we can affect some of that change. In the meantime, we're humbled that mere accident of birth finds us enjoying the good life, especially today.

Names of those known to be lynched by county are stamped into this obelisks.

The Jim Crow narrative, that whites are superior, spread like a disease, leaving misery, death, and despair in its wake.

The home of Confederate President, Jefferson Davis.

Somehow, the hollow plunk of walking on the wooden slats added to the gravity of this exhibit.

Strange fruit indeed.

Every piece rips with emotive force.

No photos allowed inside the museum. The entry way alone, several hundred plaster heads set in sand against a backdrop of ocean waves, greets every visitor. It's a gauntlet  of agonized faces, some in chains, some with hideous neck constraints, all pleading for men of righteousness to come forward. 

Alabama State House: It's all legal.

Find the courage. Stand up. Speak out. Like Rosa Parks said, "Live as a model for other people."