Day One of Natchez Recon
Our decision to move to Natchez largely rests on what we find once we finally set foot on Natchez soil. We're hoping to have some sort of "AHA!" moment where God's plan suddenly makes complete sense. We began our journey to Natchez at 9:30 a.m. on Friday, October 3rd. We headed south on Hwy 65, heading from Springfield to Branson, crossing the border into Arkansas. That was all well and good and all pretty enjoyable until after we passed Harrison, AR. Shortly after passing Harrison, though, we began questioning what God could possibly have been thinking when he put Arkansas on the map. Now, most of northern Arkansas is beautiful country, with the gorgeous terrain of the Ozark Mountains and it's scenic views. What isn't so beautiful were the 5,783 speed limit changes as we drove through Arkansas, often at a frustrating snail's pace.
The only thing that exceeded the number of speed limit changes in Arkansas were the number of Missionary Baptist churches we passed along the way. Here's a comparison for my Missouri friends -- the Missionary Baptist denomination is to Arkansas as the Assemblies of God denomination is to Springfield. A more colorful way to look at it: if we were drinkers using sightings of Missionary Baptist Churches as a drinking game, we would have died from alcohol poisoning somewhere between Little Rock and Pine Bluff.
After FINALLY making it to Little Rock (after five hours of intensely frustrating driving), we headed toward the southern part of Arkansas. Before leaving Little Rock, however, we passed a sign for a place called "Toad Suck Park". One wonders what on the planet could possibly go on at a place with such an extraordinary name. Perhaps people in Arkansas literally suck toads and the practice is so deeply ingrained into Arkansas culture that a park has been named in its honor. In any event, we have plans to stop at Toad Suck Park on our return trip to potentially have a suck or two.
There are very few parts of the country more desolate and depressing than southern Arkansas. Most every view along the drive involves one of three things: dilapidated homes/businesses/schools/churches, cotton fields, and/or burning cotton fields. I'd estimate that roughtly 2/3rds of southern Arkansas was smoldering as we drove through today. Based on VERY limited knowledge of the cotton industry, I am assuming that once the cotton has been harvested, the fields are burned so the soil can be re-turned and re-planted. The lovely, cheery ads put out by the cotton industry ("The look, the feel of COTTON, the fabric of our lives...") paints such a clean, happy picture. The real picture of the cotton industry is depressing and smoky....much like psychic Sylvia Brown.
When we finally crossed out of Arkansas and into northern Louisiana we came to a little town along the Mississippi River, called Lake Providence. Halfway through this small town, however, we hit traffic at a dead stop. Wondering the reason for such heavy traffic in such a tiny locale, we pulled onto the shoulder to find that we were stopped due to the local Homecoming parade making its way down the very street we were trying to maneuver. After waiting some 20 minutes for the final tissue-paper laden float to pass by, we finally made our way south. We cut across to Vicksburg, MS and south toward Natchez on Highway 61, passing through a lovely little community called Port Gibson. Highway 61 turns into Church Street in Port Gibson, and for good reason...there are roughly a dozen churches in a one-mile stretch of highway. One church was particularly eye-catching -- painted a delicate shade of pink and in place of a cross atop the tall steeple was a golden hand with its index finger pointing heavenward. We're not sure if the hand is meant to point toward the Lord or to boldly proclaim that the South indeed shall rise again!
Throughout southern Arkansas, northern Louisiana and western Mississippi we passed several locations of a francise coffee shop called "Jehovah Java". Is it an amusingly quirky Christian-owned coffee chain? An attempt at evangelism through caffeine-rich beverages? Or the reason that most non-Christians think that Christians are out-of-touch lunatics with their own kooky sub-culture? Hmmmm....that's a tough call.
We finally made it to Natchez at roughtly 7 p.m. and luckily, it was still Friday, October 3rd. With just moments of daylight remaining, we made our way to the church. The First Evangelical Methodist Church of Natchez is, as promised, a nice (and relatively large) church building in a very affluent area of the city. It appears that the church was lively within the recent past. In the parking lot on one side we found a basketball goal, as if youth had possibly attended there, and on the other side we found two sets of children's play equipment in a courtyard. If we didn't know that the only members are four ladies in their 70s, one couple in their 50s and their two grandchildren, we might be pursuaded to think the church was alive and well, with a congregation full of young people and families. Looks can be deceiving, I suppose.
After checking into our motel, we headed downtown to see the rental we are considering. Downtown Natchez is as adorable as it looks in the pictures and must be safe because all manner of folks were walking around or sitting in front of buildings leisurely talking or reading. There are cute little antique stores across the street, a book store cad-e-corner, and a quaint coffee shop a few doors down. All looks like a scene from a postcard. Tomorrow morning we meet with the owner of the loft to see the inside. We're looking forward to seeing Natchez in broad daylight. So far, it's as charming as the travel website promised...and that's a lot to offer in the dark after almost ten hours of driving to get here.
The only thing that exceeded the number of speed limit changes in Arkansas were the number of Missionary Baptist churches we passed along the way. Here's a comparison for my Missouri friends -- the Missionary Baptist denomination is to Arkansas as the Assemblies of God denomination is to Springfield. A more colorful way to look at it: if we were drinkers using sightings of Missionary Baptist Churches as a drinking game, we would have died from alcohol poisoning somewhere between Little Rock and Pine Bluff.
After FINALLY making it to Little Rock (after five hours of intensely frustrating driving), we headed toward the southern part of Arkansas. Before leaving Little Rock, however, we passed a sign for a place called "Toad Suck Park". One wonders what on the planet could possibly go on at a place with such an extraordinary name. Perhaps people in Arkansas literally suck toads and the practice is so deeply ingrained into Arkansas culture that a park has been named in its honor. In any event, we have plans to stop at Toad Suck Park on our return trip to potentially have a suck or two.
There are very few parts of the country more desolate and depressing than southern Arkansas. Most every view along the drive involves one of three things: dilapidated homes/businesses/schools/churches, cotton fields, and/or burning cotton fields. I'd estimate that roughtly 2/3rds of southern Arkansas was smoldering as we drove through today. Based on VERY limited knowledge of the cotton industry, I am assuming that once the cotton has been harvested, the fields are burned so the soil can be re-turned and re-planted. The lovely, cheery ads put out by the cotton industry ("The look, the feel of COTTON, the fabric of our lives...") paints such a clean, happy picture. The real picture of the cotton industry is depressing and smoky....much like psychic Sylvia Brown.
When we finally crossed out of Arkansas and into northern Louisiana we came to a little town along the Mississippi River, called Lake Providence. Halfway through this small town, however, we hit traffic at a dead stop. Wondering the reason for such heavy traffic in such a tiny locale, we pulled onto the shoulder to find that we were stopped due to the local Homecoming parade making its way down the very street we were trying to maneuver. After waiting some 20 minutes for the final tissue-paper laden float to pass by, we finally made our way south. We cut across to Vicksburg, MS and south toward Natchez on Highway 61, passing through a lovely little community called Port Gibson. Highway 61 turns into Church Street in Port Gibson, and for good reason...there are roughly a dozen churches in a one-mile stretch of highway. One church was particularly eye-catching -- painted a delicate shade of pink and in place of a cross atop the tall steeple was a golden hand with its index finger pointing heavenward. We're not sure if the hand is meant to point toward the Lord or to boldly proclaim that the South indeed shall rise again!
Throughout southern Arkansas, northern Louisiana and western Mississippi we passed several locations of a francise coffee shop called "Jehovah Java". Is it an amusingly quirky Christian-owned coffee chain? An attempt at evangelism through caffeine-rich beverages? Or the reason that most non-Christians think that Christians are out-of-touch lunatics with their own kooky sub-culture? Hmmmm....that's a tough call.
We finally made it to Natchez at roughtly 7 p.m. and luckily, it was still Friday, October 3rd. With just moments of daylight remaining, we made our way to the church. The First Evangelical Methodist Church of Natchez is, as promised, a nice (and relatively large) church building in a very affluent area of the city. It appears that the church was lively within the recent past. In the parking lot on one side we found a basketball goal, as if youth had possibly attended there, and on the other side we found two sets of children's play equipment in a courtyard. If we didn't know that the only members are four ladies in their 70s, one couple in their 50s and their two grandchildren, we might be pursuaded to think the church was alive and well, with a congregation full of young people and families. Looks can be deceiving, I suppose.
After checking into our motel, we headed downtown to see the rental we are considering. Downtown Natchez is as adorable as it looks in the pictures and must be safe because all manner of folks were walking around or sitting in front of buildings leisurely talking or reading. There are cute little antique stores across the street, a book store cad-e-corner, and a quaint coffee shop a few doors down. All looks like a scene from a postcard. Tomorrow morning we meet with the owner of the loft to see the inside. We're looking forward to seeing Natchez in broad daylight. So far, it's as charming as the travel website promised...and that's a lot to offer in the dark after almost ten hours of driving to get here.
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