Chapter 4
June 20-22: Had a short week’s break back home after returning from Indianapolis. Worked on the novel, trimmed my ear-hair, and did a little manual labor around the house. Went by way too fast, before we had to pack for Townsend, Tennessee, and the 11th Annual event known as ChristyFest — the yearly gathering (can’t really say convention, but it’s close) of fans, cast and crew from the beloved, seminal CBS series, Christy.
This was a show that resonated deeply with people; a stellar cast of leads with achingly beautiful writing, all shot in an idyllic location. It was great television…so naturally, it didn’t last. I was blessed with steady work for two years as Bob Allen, simple, common-man millwright and patriarch of the Allen clan; as rewarding an experience as I’ve ever had as an actor…
But while the show couldn’t save itself from cancellation, a resolute group of folks were determined to save its memory and preserve the unparalleled impact that one show had on so many people. Their first gathering was in 1997, and the next year, ChristyFest was officially born. Because of the efforts of this incredible group of folks, Christy was picked up by PAX TV, leading to three films shot in Canada, featuring many of the original cast and crew.
How great is this — two days in the middle of the Smoky Mountains, surrounded by the most incredible beauty imaginable, hosted by the most gracious and hospitable folks on earth, fed way too much by those same gracious and hospitable hosts, setting in for a lineup of totally cool mountain-lore seminars, marveling that work you did fifteen years ago is watched, and…discussed for God’s sake, by folks all over the country, and hanging with the crew you (read, “I”) was blessed to do that work with: producer and writer Tom Blomquist, writer Brenda Lilly, casting director Jo Doster, Tarzan stand-in and all-around Everyman Lane Batot, and the gifted actors Tom Blomquist allowed me to work alongside: Andy Stahl, Bruce McKinnon and Mike Hickman. On top of that, thanks to the hard work of Dee Jellicorse, Janis Nayyeri, and the entire ChristyFest Team, River of No Return was a big part of this year’s event, including a signing at The Family Bookstore in Maryville. Thanks, guys!
June 24 - Memphis: Home for one day from ChristyFest ‘08, and we’re off to Memphis. Did two television interviews: the morning show on Fox and the CBS staple, Live at Nine. Great folks at both networks, but a special tip of the hat to Alex and Marybeth at Live at Nine — you guys rock.
I think I gained, like, twelve pounds over two days in the city. Hell, you just can’t go there and not eat. Took Murph to The Rendezvous -she’d never been. We knew that we’d never be able to sleep if we ate after the signing at Davis Kidd that night, so we opted to go when they opened - at 4:30.
We walk up the alley off Union, between 2nd and 3rd Streets, and by the time you get within forty feet of the entrance, you can smell the ribs. Headed down the stairs, and Red, the Rendezvous’ senior server, was waiting at the bottom. “Y’ll just want ribs, we good. You want anything else, it’ll be a while.”
Murph looked her innocent best. “We just want ribs,” she said. “It’s my first time here.”
“Oh honey, you in the right place.”
Five minutes later, Red brought two plates and a full slab; eight thick pork ribs, hand-rubbed and smoke-fired in ovens that probably haven’t been cleaned in twenty years. Two sides of dirty slaw and beans, and a plastic basket of three Parkerhouse rolls. It was gone in six minutes. Red came back to the table. “Must’ve been good,” he said, smiling. Murphy wiped the sauce out of her hair and smiled back.
“I think we’d better get another half-slab.”
Damn, I liked to choked. “Are you sure, honey?” I asked.
She just looked at me. “Are you questioning me?” There was an almost feral, wild look in her eye. A cold chill ran through me.
“No, honey, I just…another half-slab would be great. Great.” I reached below the table and loosened my belt two notches.
Twenty minutes later we stepped out into the alley and a mid-day ninety-six degrees. The heat hit us like a firetruck, sucking the air out of our lungs. Filled to our gillets with smoked ribs and slaw, we moved as steadily as we could up the alley and onto Union, hoping to make it to the hotel before we both collapsed.
“Jesus,” Murph gasped. “I feel like I have salt-shock. Like I’m stoned or something. Y’ know?”
“I know,” I answered. “Ain’t it great? We’re wrecked on Rendezvous Ribs.”
Murph kissed the sauce off my cheek, as we pushed open the big doors to the DoubleTree lobby and stepped in out of the Memphis heat.
Oh…Kudos and thanks to Kristen at Davis-Kidd for making our signing there a huge success.
We’re back home for a couple of weeks before we book to Denver — but looking forward to interviews with Bill Anderson and Freewheelin’ on XM Radio next week.
Later…