Joshua J. Cotten
My seatmate on a recent flight into Memphis sighed when he thought of this city. “Sweet Memphis,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s gotten hard there, hasn’t it?”
He grew up in Greenville, Mississippi, on land that his family, former sharecroppers, still owns and occupies, though he lives up north now in Cleveland, Ohio. He’s the oldest of 12 siblings, the son of a mother who gave birth to him when she was not quite 12 years old (not a typo). The two of them were often confused for brother and sister when he was growing up, he said. The day of our flight, he was traveling home to pay his respects at an aunt’s funeral. He’s 74 now, and remembers the tough times of the past, but mostly recalls the Memphis he used to know as a place of music and family, heart and soul, and yes, sweetness. Sweet Memphis.
Memphis has real problems. That’s no revelation. We also have a perception problem. These are related challenges, certainly — but they are not the same challenge, and I’ve been thinking about the spaces between our reality and our perception of it, others’ perception of our reality, and (yes) our perception of others’ perception (for better or worse, a very real facet of how we understand ourselves).
On the same recent trip, standing at a concert venue before the music started, a bored dad escorting his young-adult daughter to the show struck up a conversation with my husband and me. (“If I get too chatty, you can tell me,” said the bored dad. I tried to imagine how things would go, were we to do just that.) After sharing anecdotes from past concerts, he shared where he lives, how old he is, and what he does for a living, all in some detail. (The Maryland suburbs of D.C., 60ish but I didn’t catch the exact number, and fiber optics, respectively.)
Eventually he asked where we are based, and when he heard “Memphis,” made a face that would have made more sense if we had said, “the Gaza Strip.” “So it’s … pretty rough there, huh?” I started to defend my hometown — every city has problems! Memphis boasts many wonderful cultural assets! You should come visit, see for yourself! — but decided for once just to move along instead. Mr. Fiber Optics was not looking to have his mind changed.
My new friend on the airplane, a thoughtful fellow, was quick to say that most all cities have problems. And that he’s heard Memphis is working on ours. That we have a new mayor, new energy. A fresh chance at change, maybe. He was eager to leave the airport and stop with his brother for fried chicken before continuing south to Greenville.
A perception problem, but real problems, too. A colleague’s daughter, who lives in Chattanooga, spent a recent weekend in town. My colleague reported the following Monday morning that she had enjoyed great music (jazz at Crosstown Arts), burgers at Huey’s, a river sunset from the Metal Museum’s overlook … and the aftermath of a murder at a downtown gas station. Just another weekend in Memphis, where close to 400 people were murdered last year. I realize this recounting might sound flippant, and that’s not my intent. It’s just that when our city has more murders than there are days in a year, the details begin to blur.
The real problems and the perception problems are distinct from each other, but we’ll fail if we try to fix the latter without addressing the former. We can’t just start telling different kinds of stories about Memphis and hope that the actual, everyday troubles fade away. But I firmly believe, all the same, that focusing a little more of our attention on what’s going right can help build a solution to address what’s going wrong. We have a new mayor, the possibility of a new era, and I remain hopeful.
It’s funny: I’m not shy about expressing my frustrations with this place among other Memphians. In those dialogues, the frustrations exist in the context of love and appreciation. But when some outsider dares to throw shade, I’m ready to spar! Because despite it all, this is still “sweet Memphis.”
