Emotional BBQ — Rant Gingerly

On May 3, 2005, I moved to Memphis, TN to start a new job and consequently, a new life. I didn't know a soul there. On May 5, 2005, I started my new job, and by 1:00pm that day, I was deathly ill and went home to suffer alone with the flu. Welcome to Memphis! When I finally emerged a few days later from captivity, I went with my company to the Memphis in May World Championship BBQ Cooking Contest, lovingly referred to in Memphis as BBQ Fest. We were being hosted by another company because we were providing their entertainment entry into the Miss Piggy Talent Show. I was still not 100% well, was burning hot in the Memphis sun, and to sum up, utterly miserable to have to be there.

Once our performance was over, we went back to the tent, and a very nice man fixed me up a plate with a huge pulled pork sandwich, and pointed out a shady spot for me to sit by the river. As I sat there greedily chowing down on the most delicious sandwich I had ever eaten, a barge came down the Mississippi in front of me. I had never seen such a thing; a little pusher boat with what looked like a mile of cargo cruising down the middle of that huge river, making barely any sound. The gravity of my move suddenly hit me as I watched that barge, eating my first of a hundred pulled pork sandwiches. This was Mark Twain shit. I was in Memphis, TN, living on the mighty Mississippi. I was in the South, and I was so moved by that realization at that moment. Suddenly I didn't feel so crappy, and had a sense of belonging. I'll never forget that moment. It was one of those soul grabbers that define our lives.

I didn't go to BBQ Fest again until last year, when a friend on a team invited me. I had a great time, but no soul-grabbers. But this year. UGH! Got me good. Gee, could it be the fact that I have begun the planning process for moving away from Memphis at the end of the year? <sob>

This was my last BBQ Fest as a Memphian.

I was with all three of my best friends in Memphis when the skies opened and poured with a vengeance. We hurried into the tent of another friend, being all the way across the park from the tent we were calling home yesterday. We had been drinking and visiting friends around the fest, and huddled together for cover by the bar, we were all singing cheesy songs and having a blast. An apple pie moonshine jello shot went down OH LAWD. Then a damn barge came down the river in front of me, and my heart leaped. Then churned. And my eyes filled up and I panicked, not wanting to cry in front of a lot of strangers. I tried to swallow it down, finally succeeding in only allowing one tear to bloop out. I moved away to the river side of the tent and it got me again. I think one of my besties is the only one who saw, though. I couldn't stop thinking WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH ME?!!! I knew it was the memory of 2005 slamming my already tenderized heart, but geez. Cool it, lady!

I couldn't look at the river for the rest of the day, and after trudging through downtown in the rain and having a hilarious dinner, I finally got home and cried for real. I feel better now.

The thing is, I was devastated and homesick when I left California. And again when I left New England, and again when I left Tulsa. And Memphis will be even harder, I'm sure. But this has been my life, nomadic and ever-changing. The only person not surprised by the moves I've made is me. And how lucky am I to have loved ones all over this country? No matter where I go, I always make it back to my homes and my people on a regular basis. No matter how hard things are, we make it through them. What other choice do we have? And we never know what we'll accomplish and who we'll meet on the next turn in the road. The only thing that really REALLY scares me about life is the thought of staying put. There's just too much out there, y'all. I don't ever want to think, "Why didn't I <fill in the blank>?" when I'm old.

Here's to making it to an old age without regrets. Cheers!