Nostalgia Burgers...

The old adage says “you can’t go home again”.  I disagree.  True, you can’t go back in time and experience things the same way and the past is not a healthy place to reside, but there’s nothing wrong with taking a peek at the Used To Bes and Once Weres.

I moved enough as a kid that I didn’t have my own connection to my family’s hometown.  I certainly have memories created during summer visits but that was vacation for me.  I loved my grandfather’s tour of all the sites and places that were important to him.  “Over there’s where the barn used to be. It’s not there anymore.”  I sat on barstools next to him, drinking my YooHoo, listening to him talk to his buddies about all of those places that used to be.  They mattered.  They mattered to him because they were part of his life story.  They mattered to me because they were part of my life story, too.

As adults, ,my siblings and I shared ice cold Stag beers at the bar that used to be the Bikini Club…which used to be the school house where our father went to school as a boy.  Sure, many years have passed and many bodies have crossed that threshold since those school days, but I believe some of those memories linger in the ethers.

The first place that I really called MY home – the town where I spent my formative years and shaped the Terri that I am today is a place that most people only visit from time to time.  Before MTV descended upon us, the beach of my heart was a sleepy little haven between Labor Day and Memorial Day with a noisy party thumping during the summer in between.  All of my first big moments happened there.  First job.  First kiss.  First car.  First place of my own.

I’m lucky enough to be able to return to that beach every once in a while.  Naturally, the beauty of the place is the main draw, but I can’t help but run through the Memory Tour.  It feels good to glance back sometimes.  And now, with my kids next to me, maybe they’ll understand a bit about me beyond “Mom”, in the same way I saw my grandfather as more than just my grandfather when he reminisced.

Sadly, many of “my” places now only live in the land of Used To Be.  The Pier 99 Motor Lodge, where I was a 13 year old maid (hardest physical job of my life) is no more.  In its place is yet another towering condominium.  But Pineapple Willies - which I watched being constructed as I squeaked my toes in the sand behind it - is still going strong.  Miracle Strip Amusement park has been gone for a few years now.  The pier radio tower where I first thought “I could be a DJ” is probably not even a memory for many of the families who visit now.  The Treasure Ship perished in a fire.  Dracula’s Castle gave way to giant souvenir shops.  Their absence doesn’t stop me from pointing out where they Used To Be to my eye-rolling husband and kids.

Last weekend, I had an opportunity to visit my beach again.  After I squeaked my toes in the sand, I promised my girls a visit to my hometown anchor – Funland – for a Nostalgia Burger and maybe a round of Goofy Golf.  We only made it to Funland but that was enough to restore my soul.

You see, when I lived there, the roads were uncluttered.  A drive on the main road meant there was beautiful visible beach on one side and small houses and mom and pop businesses on the other.  Perfection, really, but for teenagers, we could always find fault in something.  There was no high school on the beach in those days, so early morning loooong bus rides or a beat up old car were necessary.  There was no McDonald’s, no fast food at all. 

But there was Funland.  Steps from my front door, I could meet up with my friends, eat a delicious hamburger, have some ice cream, and play a little skeeball while figuring out where to go next.  Go drink beer in the dinosaur’s belly at Goofy Golf?  Catch up with the skaters at the pier?  Both?

 

The first time my husband’s band was booked at Pineapple Willie’s, I told them to go have a Nostalgia Burger at Funland.  They saw the beauty of the place right away.  Any time I am within an hour of the place, you’d better believe I’ll make it there.  It never disappoints.  The moment I walk in, the bells ringing and games clanging take me right back to 16. 

My kids see the magic of the place.  OK, they’re probably just humoring me so I give them game tokens but they do appreciate the snack bar.  They surely cringe when I talk to the folks behind the counter and call my Nostalgia Burger a Nostalgia Burger, but that’s what it is and I will honor that!  They pretend to ignore me when I strike up a conversation with the same maintenance guy that has been there since 1982 but I think they’re also paying attention.  These things matter.

This place, with its burgers and cheap beer and pinball helped to shape me.  It is my hope that I will always be able to get a Nostalgia Burger and that, one day, my kids will have their very own memories of the place.  At the very least, I trust that *they* will have a place for their own version of Nostalgia Burgers.

 

Embrace The Mad Genius...

Recently, my family was on an impromptu vacation, wandering the hills and sites of Chattanooga.  It’s close to home and one of those places that we always drive through on the way to someplace else, so why not?

 Chattanooga, if you’re not familiar, has a landscape of mountains and valleys and is under 150 miles from Atlanta, Nashville, Knoxville, Birmingham, and so on.  Geography historically made it a desirable place to set up camp.  First for the Cherokees, and then for soldiers and miners.  So, my family set up camp (in a motel with a pool and breakfast buffet) for a few days. 

Mother Nature did a fabulous job designing the area but human nature is to tinker and make changes and improvements that suit whims or needs of the moment.  So while the caverns, waterfalls, and mountain ridges were pretty great on their own, man made them accessible and more comfortable for other humans to enjoy.  Not so coincidentally, these adaptations created money flow. 

As a tourist, I appreciate these “upgrades” and embrace them.  However, because my brain works the way it does, I always find myself marveling at the creativity and tenacity of the people behind the technology instead of the natural beauty in front of me.  We know why the railroad was built.  We know why and how roads were constructed.  We can kind of understand the need for the cable rail that goes a mile up the side of a mountain. 

Tour guides can explain the reasoning behind the technology and can talk about the challenges or obstacles on the way to the top, or to the bottom to the falls.  But they never really shed light on the mad genius behind it all.  That’s the tour I want to take. 

What made that chemist tunnel under ground for 17 hours in the first place?  When the first hang glider strapped himself to wings and launched off the side of a mountain, how sure of himself was he?   

I think maybe I come from a long line of natural tinkerers.  Grandparents, uncles, brothers, and cousins who, when met with a problem, figure out a way to keep getting the work done.  It’s not so uncommon.  My grandmother figured out how to make her own tin cookie cutters (and sold them to neighborhood housewives) when such things weren’t readily available during war rationing.  My grandfather, working in a meat packing company, suggested that White Castle poke small holes in their burger patties to speed up line cooks (he received a cash reward and they are still made that way), and my mother can create the perfect box or packaging for whatever she needs with cardboard scraps. 

Those are all very practical things.  But what about the weird and/or fun stuff?  That’s where my brothers come in.  Brother Ken once created a very elaborate system to reach around a corner and across a room for the sole purpose of swiping frosting off of a cake that was being closely guarded.  Why?  Probably just because he could and seemed like fun.  That was the only reward. 

I’m always most impressed by the people who create not out of need, but for the fun of it.  I wish I had that in me.  I absolutely have the creativity and have countless zany ideas in any given moment.  I just don’t have the drive to see it to fruition.

 

When we strolled through Rock City and heard the tale of the man who turned a rough natural treasure into a fairyland garden, I was moved by the vision of this local guy who recognized a resource and turned it into something grand.  Perhaps I was just in the right frame of mind to notice, in one of the many gift shops, this little gem!

It is exactly what it appears to be:  a retired cigarette machine – the kind once found in every bar or restaurant in the country – but with a new purpose!  This particular machine is an “Art-O-Mat”, vending handmade goodies from local artists.  Hand crafted soaps, oil paintings (which, I imagine, are probably small), jewelry, etc.  There was even a Mystery selection, so who knows what your five bucks could have gotten!

 

Now, my focus was off of the rocks and rope bridges.  I wanted to know about the mad genius behind this object!  Because this is just the kind of thing I would create in my head but that would never actually happen.  1. I’m lazy by nature and 2. I’m easily distracted so the first time my idea was rejected, I’d certainly drop it. 

I think the world would be a much happier place if we appreciated and encouraged our mad geniuses more.  True, this recycled vending machine isn’t solving world hunger or global warming, but it’s definitely spreading whimsy and encouraging the growth of ideas into reality.  And who knows, maybe it’s the thinkers of this variety that are going to save us all!