Clarksdale, MS - Kibbe, Blow Out Rib, Razor Blade

"Yoo hoo! Satan! I'm ready to sell my soul now!" yells Tom.

This raises a whole host of existential questions, including "does a stuffed cat made in Taiwan have a soul?" I choose to ignore the whole thing.

Thursday morning, I cured my hangover with lots of water and 3 bowls of Raisin Bran, after which I was ready to immerse myself in blues lore. "Good luck finding the dead guys!" said Bill. (I called him Bob in yesterday's post - sorry). I told him it wasn't like they were going anywhere.

The Delta Blues museum is housed in the old railroad depot in downtown Clarksdale. Muddy Water's one-room cabin sits in the middle of the floor. This shack stood around Stovall Plantation close to here, and Billy Gibbons of ZZ Top found it a few years ago. He took one of the boards, fashioned it into an electric guitar, and the toured the country with his band to raise money and build the museum. There are lots of guitars and harmonicas here, and the they're all really small. I'm not sure why. Anyway, it was a nice trip, and though there isn't a lot of artifacts, the museum is just a few years old and has plenty of expansion time and room.

Then I paid my respects at Charlie Patton's grave. Patton is my favorite. Called "The most unintelligible voice in blues," he has held a particular fascination for me. I first checked out his King of the Delta Blues compilation in the mid 90's. I didn't really notice, but it really grew in my mind. After having checked it about 20 times, I thought "Hey, this guy's good." In fact, he taught many of the first-recorded Delta blues musicians himself, including Son House, Robert Johnson, and Willie Brown. All of Rock and Roll can be traced back to Patton.

Personally, his music helped me immensely. When Kathy's MS first started presenting, it was a very depressing and confusing time. But "Pony Blues" and "Tom Rushen" and "Lord, I'm Discouraged" kept me afloat. Kathy even likes "Mississippi Bo Weevil Blues" and "Shake it and Break It", and she otherwise couldn't care less about the blues.

I sat at his grave awhile. And while I did not hear any ghost wailing, I did hear little bits of the recordings he left for all of us, and that is a lot to be thankful for. He wandered around this earth for 43 years, just a little bit more than I have, but he left a universe of information on how to live one's life. What more could a person do?

Here are some signs I saw along the way:

• "Blow Out Rib Case - $16.95" (I think this means there's a good price on a case of ribs)
• "Delta Delinter Corporation." (Delta Delinter - didn't she write those romance novels or something?)
• "Support Our Men, No Women Overseas" (How? By sending some women over by Fedex? Actually, I think the sign said "Men, And Women Overseas" but the "a" dropped off)

Shelby - your boss's recommendation on RestHaven Restaurant was right on! The kibbe was excellent and the chocolate pie was superb, even though I'm no big fan of chocolate pie. The resturant is owned by a Lebanese man, and if you've never heard a Lebanese man with a Southern accent ... well, of course you haven't! ... words fail me for how to describe it.

I finished the night at Ground Zero Blues club, Morgan Freeman's joint (he lives east of Clarksdale). Razor Blade was singing that night, and he had a band of friggin' teenagers backing him up. I mean, the guitarist looked like he was 13! But he could sure play.

Upstate New York is like gum on my shoe though. I talked to a woman who said, "Oh yeah, my husband and I moved from around Albany." She's a real blues enthusiast, and loves it in Clarksdale. And I talked to a guy at the bar who went to RPI in Troy NY. He remembers eating at the Dinosaur BBQ, but forgot the name of it ... as soon he mentioned BBQ, I asked "Did they have a lot of bikers there?" and he said yes, I know what he was talking about. Finally, I look at the portraits on the wall and they had ... get this - Roosevelt Dean! Now anyone who knows the Syracuse music scene knows Roosevelt Dean. He's an institution. And he sings the Syracuse promo commercial - "Everything you want, we got it downtown in Syracuse!" (Provided everything you want is snow and blues music.)

I hate to leave Clarksdale. There are so many friendly folks here, and it has such a honest, unvarnished character. These are folks just like Charlie Patton played for years ago, only with wireless Internet and a big Kroger's down the street. Next stop: Memphis!

From the Mailbag

"Who is Alan Jackson?" - Alan Jackson is a huge country music star. I don't know his music, but I seem to recall him plugging Ford pickups a few years ago. My resident country music expert, Jackie Miladin, says Jackson is steadfastly country, not bowing to the country-pop-rock phonemenon popularized by Shania Twain and Faith Hill.

Alternate answer: he's the guy who owns the lawn on which Tom barfed.