Categories
Opinion The Last Word

Memphis Is My Boyfriend: A Teen’s Take on Dating

I’m a mom of four teenagers. An 11-year-old girl, twin 13-year-old boys, and a 16-year-old boy. And that 16-year-old is … DATING! This is a scary moment for me. Mostly because I know what “dating” looked like for me at 16. (We read and we don’t judge.) Nevertheless, I thought that this would be a great opportunity to hear about dating and Valentine’s Day from the perspective of a teenager. And now, here’s what my son has to say!

For teenagers, Valentine’s Day is a chance to celebrate your relationship, no matter how long you’ve been dating. As you have probably seen from most teenage rom-coms or from social media drama, Valentine’s Day can also be messy. 

In high school, there are tons of unique relationships and several types of couples. Some teens have been dating for only a few weeks, while others are approaching year three! There are some teenagers who struggle to start relationships because of their sexuality. Others struggle to keep relationships just because their partner loses interest and leaves them on “read.” Or some parents prohibit their teens from dating at all. Even if a couple may seem like they are going strong, it can come falling down.

Either way, dating and Valentine’s Day is a pivotal point for teens. Wherever they may be in their dating scene, here are a couple of things to keep in mind as a parent:

• Support your teen: You may not like who they’re dating, but support your teen and make sure they are doing well in their relationship. 

• Don’t embarrass your teen: It can be easy to bring up their flaws or messy habits, but it doesn’t feel good when you are getting embarrassed in front of your girlfriend or boyfriend.

• Offer advice, but don’t lecture: Talking down to someone and talking to them are two different things. You want to make sure that you are talking to teens about their relationship. Be wary of lecturing without giving them an opportunity to be active in the conversation. 

• Listen: Sometimes all teens want is for someone to listen. They may not even want advice, just someone to listen to their situation and understand them.

Luckily, I am in a healthy relationship. We have known each other for years and started dating only five months ago. My partner has to be one of the most enthusiastic and energetic people I have ever met. Whether it comes to the situationships in season seven of The Rookie or her cases at youth court, she always brings her energy to the table (unless she is hangry). Also, seeing her smile just brightens my day. I’ll never forget that. But here are a couple of points that I have learned from other successes and failures that I use to guide my relationship. Teenagers, take a pic of this:

• Communicate your boundaries: Make sure that you both are looking for the same or similar things in a relationship. Let them know up front what’s a “no-go.”

• Respect each other: Everyone deserves respect. In person and online!

• Consent, consent, consent: Ask permission for everything, even hugging and kissing.

• Don’t lie to your parents. Just be open and up front. They’re going to find out anyway. 

Now that we’ve got that out of the way, here are my plans for my very first Valentine’s Day.

I plan on taking my partner to Ciao Bella Italian Restaurant. Both of us are huge fans of Italian cuisine. With us being teens, we must factor in our parents. We aren’t fully independent, and we can’t just go sneaking out the window to a dinner date. So of course our parents will be there, but hopefully at a different table.

During dinner, I’ll present her with gifts. I know her pretty well. But I cannot afford front row seats to the next WWE Smackdown. And after the holiday season, my accounts aren’t overflowing. But fortunately, I love to make homemade/crafty gifts. I’ll be making an assortment of cards and flowers with a custom blanket that has her favorite celebrities on it (Eric Winter, Melissa O’Neil). In addition to that, I will be making a spray-painted sweatshirt with designs from Michael Jackson and Roman Reigns, a couple more of her favorite celebrities. 

Valentine’s Day as a teenager is a mix of excitement, nerves, and learning experiences. Whether it’s a first date, a longtime relationship, or just navigating the highs and lows of young love, it’s a time of growth. Remember, as parents, it isn’t your role to control the journey but to support, guide, and — most importantly — listen. 

Patricia Lockhart is a native Memphian who loves to read, write, cook, and eat. By day, she’s an assistant principal and writer, but by night … she’s asleep. Her son Aiden Lockhart is dating now!

Categories
Opinion The Last Word

An Ode to Ice Cream Sandwiches

With a fork and a knife, Hunny Blunt cuts into the summertime dish with glee. “There’s nothing better,” she declares, “than a rich and flavorful ice cream sandwich from the Lamplighter Lounge.” It’s the Monday night drag show, a new staple of the Midtown scene. Hunny, the grand duchess of the ball, carefully consumes her post-dance treat and seems positively glowing in her cocktail dress and oversized ’do. “I think I’m just about ready to face the world again,” she quips, strutting back to the stage for round two of a performance.

For many folks, these drag nights are their own “Neapolitan ice cream sandwich,” a way to unwind from the traumas of a rough workweek. There are many more nights like these at Lamplighter too: karaoke on Thursdays and comedy on Wednesdays, sometimes a burlesque show during a Thursday karaoke. On weekends, there’s always a band playing: Rosey if you feel swamp-witch rage; Data Drums for those into the introspective and atmospheric. You name it, they’ll drop it on your plate on any given day.

Personally, though, I’m having trouble trying to think up my own “ice cream sandwich.” There are so many things that I feel help me stave off those moments of depression, to pluck out those seeds of doubt. But nothing is really sticking. So I reached out to some locals and friends to ask what they would call their own “ice cream sandwich.”

A dear friend of mine who works for MIFA, Sumi Montgomery, said hers would be “either hiking in nature, or getting a new tattoo. I’m even planning my next tattoo for after the holidays.” Unlike her, I have only gotten one tattoo: a literary symbol on my ankle. It made me pass out (who knew the ankle was the worst spot to get a first tattoo?), but I did feel a rush of adrenaline and dopamine after. “That’s the thing though,” she clarifies. “After all that pain, you’re left with something beautiful. I see them as marks of transition.”

I can agree with her first option. She and I have hiked along the Wolf River Greenway and around her area of Harbor Town before, and afterwards I felt not only reinvigorated, but also relaxed. Nature can be a great way to reconnect and recenter ourselves. But, still, I felt like I needed something more. Maybe there is something I’m missing that could be my “ice cream sandwich.” So I reached out to local socialite and librarian Ralley Taura. 

She told me that when she feels like the world is crashing down on her, she cleans her house. “Organizing a spot in my house that has stressed me out relaxes me,” she elaborates. “And I listen to an audiobook while I clean. There’s nothing like compete inundation with something like that to make every worry melt away.” I sometimes find myself feeling much better after a good house cleaning. But still, it doesn’t quite fit me, I feel. So I continue searching.

A colleague of mine, Erica Qualy, runs a local vintage shop, Tako’s Treasures. She has been doing so for almost a decade, crafting an ecologically and environmentally friendly brand. Her “ice cream sandwich” is, in fact, “thrifting. It has always been a form of therapy for me. I’m a big believer in gratitude and turning that into an activity.” 

But sometimes that’s not enough. So she gave me another, more philosophical answer as well: “I remind myself to trust the universe. Looking back on the times where I felt my life was falling apart, it turns out things were actually falling into place.” What wise words to remember.

Finally, I reached out to local political figure Noah Nordstrom for his take on what he hopes folks can cling onto in this rising political tide. His response? “I lean into my family and community when it feels like everything is coming down. Hosting events or fundraisers brings me a sense of peace and stability.” 

And I couldn’t agree more. Community events are the lifeblood of a society. Noah himself proves to be a passionate community leader, especially after giving his all in the recent Representative election. He continues that good fight, as you can see in the infamous Memphis-Shelby County Schools board video. Passion like his is what I hope to channel these next few years.

Everyone needs a way to unwind, especially during the coming four years. It is now more important than ever to seek out our community and immerse ourselves in culture. Go to shows and support your local musicians and artists.

There is nothing better than these little moments, in spite of what may happen. I hope to find my own ice cream sandwich soon to combat the dread. My fork and knife stand at the ready. 

William Smythe is a local writer and poet. He writes for Focus Mid-South, an LGBT+ magazine.

Categories
Opinion The Last Word

Trump 2.0: Time Travel, Tech Bros, and Tyranny

As I write these words, on January 16, 2025, Mr. Donald Trump is still President-elect, though he’s certainly acting as though he’s already been inaugurated. Thanks to the peculiar time traveling magic of print periodicals, President Trump will have been in office for at least three days before you read these words, such as they are. (Look, I’m not any more excited to write about the guy than you are to read about him, but news is news.)

Despite a compelling farewell address (more on that below) from the 46th president of the United States, the absurdity machine is already winding up here in the final days of President Joe Biden’s term in office, as a casual glance at recent headlines attests. 

“Trump Taps Mel Gibson, Sylvester Stallone and Jon Voight as Hollywood ‘Ambassadors’,” from The New York Times. Makes sense. At 69, 78, and 86, respectively, those venerable gentlemen surely have their collective finger on the pulse of the generation. When I think about connecting with Gen Z, my mind immediately goes to the co-star of 1972’s Deliverance and prominent right-wing nutjob Jon Voight. With Los Angeles devastated by historic and tragic winter Palisades fires, Trump’s move shows he still has all his old tricks, ready to go. It’s performative, backwards, and it toes the line between casual cruelty and cluelessness. We are off to a great start indeed. 

Worse than Trump’s sycophantic set of Hollywood “Ambassadors” are the rich and empathy-deficient tech titans lining up to pull the president’s strings. In his farewell address, Biden warned of this oligarchy of the super-rich and the influence they wield, particularly through technology, and I agree with almost everything he said — save one minor detail. Biden warned that this tyranny of tech bros is on its way; I say it’s already here. I worry our nation will be as successful ousting the tech-industrial complex as we have with the military-industrial complex President Dwight D. Eisenhower warned of in his farewell address in 1961. 

Trump is notoriously susceptible to flattery. His own former national security adviser, H.R. McMaster, already admitted as much in an interview in 2024, not that we needed an expert on security to attest to that fact. With Meta’s Mark Zuckerberg announcing that Facebook and Instagram are letting their fact-checkers go, it will be that much easier to suck up to the new president. He really did have the biggest inauguration crowd of all time — and no one is allowed to prove otherwise! 

Jokes aside, if abandoning fact-checking wasn’t Zuckerberg’s way of saying, “standing by, dear leader,” I’m not nearly as well-versed in the speech patterns of near-human replicants. All those hours watching Blade Runner on repeat and Star Trek: Next Generation on reruns really were wasted, I guess. 

Social media — and the tech industry in general — are criminally under-regulated. Well, that is to say, their actions aren’t technically crimes, because there aren’t really any regulations. But it should be a crime. Unfortunately, a loosening of tech’s stranglehold on U.S. policy seems increasingly unlikely. Between Trump’s burgeoning friendship with the AI Axis of Evil — the aforementioned Zuckerberg, Amazon’s Jeff Bezos, and Elon Musk, the grifter who bought Twitter, renamed it X, and is now poised to poison Memphis’ water — and an aging and out-of-touch legislative branch who don’t see the harm in a little social media, it seems to me that the tech-industrial complex keeping Biden up at night have already set up shop. 

Though I’m sending this missive from a presidency in the past, I sincerely doubt that all hope is lost already, on Thursday, January 23, 2024. You can fire the fact-checkers, but you can’t burn all the facts everywhere. That doesn’t mean that the coalition of the mean and greedy little minds won’t try. It just means to remember that everyone (including yours truly!) has bias, that book burning is never the last move in someone’s playbook, and that libraries are a truly radical and wonderful place. 

Anyway, at least I’m sure I’ll get a good laugh out of the “article” my uncle shares on Facebook as proof that the Mississippi is supposed to be on fire, actually, and annual ice storms can’t be climate change, because it’s global warming, not global icing, dummy. 

Jesse Davis is a former Flyer staffer; he writes a monthly Books feature for Memphis Magazine. His opinions, such as they are, were minding their own business in Memphis on January 6, 2021. Were yours?

Categories
Opinion The Last Word

Of Fathers and Faulkner

For two decades, I have begun the calendar year by reading a William Faulkner novel. My father died in September 2005, and he loved Faulkner. Reading stories by the Nobel Prize-winning author is a method for having a conversation with Dad, even if it’s internal, entirely private. Flem Snopes, after all, demands discussion. Furthermore, the American South’s greatest scribe helps me connect more deeply to the place where I live and the people who occupy the Mid-South, both present and past.

My January visit with Faulkner — and Dad — has me considering 2025 on a larger scale, one with current events in the mix, and beyond the Mid-South. We will inaugurate a new (though quite familiar) president on Martin Luther King Day. And it’s hard to imagine a greater contrast between two American men: the 47th president and the slain civil rights leader for whom the holiday is named. Faulkner would find such a character contrast fodder for a good tale: a latter-day Snopes taking the highest office in the land while the racial and ethical fabric of a country stretches to a ripping point. What is morality when there is profit to be made?

Reading Faulkner is hard. His plotlines are seldom linear. Characters are introduced with flashbacks and sudden trauma. I’m not sure stream of consciousness was even a thing before The Sound and the Fury. And William Faulkner does not do happy endings. The lone thread you’ll find connecting his entire canon: loss. The loss of a loved one. The loss of property or fortune. And, most poignantly, the loss of time. The fact is, we lose as we live, each passing day adding a new layer to the past we must both process and manage in tackling our next venture.

Whichever “side of the aisle” you prefer, the coming months and years will be abrasive for American life. A person driven by the attention he gains is in a position to shake the federal government in ways it’s not been shaken before. Millions adore him for this. Millions fear him for this. We may be one country, these United States, but we are living with a fissure deeper and darker than any Faulkner may have placed in Yoknapatawpha County.

And this is where we each have a role to play, each of us a character Faulkner may have dreamed up for a 21st-century version of The Hamlet, but with an entire nation as backdrop. (Shakespeare called us “players.” Imagine what the Bard would have to say about the current stage.) What kind of impact will you make on the town square? In the workplace? At the dinner table? How will you touch lives for the better? And, Faulkner would want to know, will impacting lives bring pleasure or pain? Life’s simpler for the likes of Flem, every relationship a net profit or loss. Don’t be Flem Snopes.

I visit Oxford, Mississippi, periodically. I find the grounds of Rowan Oak — Faulkner’s home — especially tranquil. I like to imagine the thinking and conversations that occurred on this lone patch of American real estate. I assure you, it wasn’t always linear, and there was plenty of loss. These days, you can even sit on a bench next to Faulkner (a bronze version) in Oxford’s town square. I’ve done so with my daughters. I’ve even worn my dad’s hat. Again, the conversations are internal, but very real. My next visit to Rowan Oak — sometime in 2025 — will include some thinking about how and why? They are challenging questions these days.

Faulkner was a young man during the Great War and an acclaimed author when Pearl Harbor was attacked in 1941. He knew hard times. They steered his writing and shaped his memorable characters. Were he to appear in 2025 America, I’m not convinced Faulkner would be any more afraid now than he was in the times that challenged his own life. This is humanity. It’s who we are. And yes, Snopes now and then.

William Faulkner accepted his Nobel Prize on December 10, 1950, and delivered a speech my father cherished, one I carry inside my own heart. “I believe that man will not merely endure: He will prevail. He is immortal, not because he alone among creatures has an inexhaustible voice, but because he has a soul, a spirit capable of compassion and sacrifice and endurance.”

These are times to endure. May the wind be at your back. 

Frank Murtaugh is the managing editor of Memphis Magazine. He writes the columns “From My Seat” and “Tiger Blue” for the Flyer.

Categories
Opinion The Last Word

Memphis Is My Boyfriend: Yes Day

I have four tweens/teens: a 16-year-old boy, twin 13-year-old boys, and an 11-year-old girl. Teens can ask for some of the most random things. Another laptop, shopping sprees, beauty products, and a whole host of material things. And throughout the year, I find myself saying, “No,” “What do you think your allowance is for?”, “Absolutely not!”, and “That seems like something you need to ask your uncles to buy you” to several of their requests. Honestly, I feel like if I give them a decent allowance and provide all of their needs, they can at least spend their own money on any gadget, game, or beauty product they want. My purse is shallow and the strings are tight.

Except for one day a year. The last day of the year to be exact. New Year’s Eve.

On New Year’s Eve, my husband and I give the kids a “Yes Day.” It’s simple: Whatever the kids ask for, we simply say, “Yes.” We only ask questions for clarification, and we don’t deflect or say no.

Here’s a list of things and experiences our tweens/teens asked for:

“Can we eat breakfast at IHOP?”

“Can we go to Jumping World?”

“Can we eat pizza for lunch?”

“Can we get a hotel?”

“Can we go to the Amuse Adventure Museum?”

“Can we shop at Best Buy?”

“Can we go to Target?”

“Can we go to Hobby Lobby?”

And of course we said “Yes” to every single request!

The kids had a blast! We ate breakfast and picked up a few crafting materials from Hobby Lobby. Then we did a little window shopping at Best Buy and Target. Next, we went to Jumping World. By the time we checked into the hotel, I was already exhausted. We ate an early dinner at Rock’n Dough Pizza and had the most amazing server. Next, we went to the Amuse Adventure Museum and had a blast. Fun fun fun! Lastly, we did a grocery store run for snacks before heading back to the hotel. I passed out. The kids and Hubby played video games. I woke up and played games as well, then I went back to sleep. Finally, the New Year came and concluded our Yes Day.

If you’re wondering about the financial cost of a Yes Day, I’ll be very transparent with you. Our Yes Day cost $537 for this family of six. The most expensive tickets were the Amuse Adventure Museum and Rock’n Dough Pizza, both over $100. If you would like to do a Yes Day for your kids but you’re concerned with getting a lot of materialistic requests, then set some parameters. Explain to your teens that their request must create an experience and be centered around engaging with the family.

While Yes Day is very fun, we did make time for something very serious. Now, we don’t do New Year’s resolutions. Tweens and teenagers are still developing a sense of self. New Year’s resolutions can unintentionally bring about stress from trying to be this perfect image of themselves that they’ve placed in their mind. And as an ever-evolving teenager, perfection is impossible.

So instead of focusing on achievements, we focus on exploration. Everyone chooses three hobbies they want to nurture for 2025. While the hobbies can be brand-new or something you’re still learning, there is a short guide. You must have a physical hobby, something that gets you moving. You must also have a creative hobby, to explore new ways to express yourself. Lastly, you must have a social hobby, something that brings you together with other people. Here are our 2025 hobbies (physical, creative, social):

Anthony/Dad: running, learning to play the piano, and running with a club

Patricia/Mom: yoga, sewing, painting, and learning Spanish

Aiden (16): jogging, playing the piano and reading sheet music, and hosting events at home

Elliott (13): stretching, creating new video games, and TBD*

Elijah (13): biking, creating a YouTube channel, and creating a video gaming club

Eve (11): ballet and dance, and sewing with a club

*It’s okay that he doesn’t know how he wants to engage with others. He has a low social battery threshold. 

For the rest of the year, I will scour the Memphis Flyer for events and activities that pour into my kids’ hobbies. If you hear of any, please feel free to share it with me via Instagram @memphisismyboyfriend. 

Patricia Lockhart is a native Memphian who loves to read, write, cook, and eat. By day, she’s an assistant principal and writer, but by night … she’s asleep. 

Categories
Opinion The Last Word

Remember Love

My mother died from cancer in the spring of 2023 at the age of 86. I was her only child, 55 and heartbroken. While she lived many years with chronic arthritis pain, my mother Earline Duncan was joyful, energetic, and always eager to share with others. I called her “Mama.” But she was more than that to me. Earline Duncan was my good friend.

December 25th will be my second Christmas without Mama. To avoid debilitating woe, I look grief in the face. Nobody will escape. Life is death, and loss is love’s inheritance. I hug my anguish tightly and let tears wash over me like a flood. When I cannot cry another drop, I am refreshed. Then I rise from the couch and clean my house. 

Mama’s death wounded my soul. I own a scab that Mercurochrome cannot heal. However, in the time since her death, besides crying, cleaning house, and writing for the Memphis Flyer, I have discovered another way to recalibrate. I call on Mama’s circle of octogenarian friends, who traveled this life with her from childhood to womanhood, and finally to the elevation of elder. I ask her lifelong friends to share their personal memories of Mama.  

Earline Duncan with Snowden School students in the early ’70s (Photo: Courtesy Alice Faye Duncan)

Just like Earline Duncan, Dorothy Rozier, Claudette Lacey, Hollye Shotwell, and Verna Vaughn survived the humiliation of second-class citizenship in Jim Crow Memphis during the 1940s. They grew up and went to church in North Memphis’ Greenlaw Community. They graduated from historically Black colleges and universities (HBCUs) and they each served Memphis students as “Negro” schoolteachers until the vernacular changed to “Black” during the 1960s.

Once while I was collecting memories, Dorothy Rozier, who is 86, recalled my mother’s unmitigated boldness. When they were girls in middle school, Mama rode her bicycle to Dorothy’s house. At the time, Dorothy’s granddaddy sat on the porch in need of a shave because he was unable to do it himself. When little Earline arrived, she hopped off her bike and volunteered for the task. As a kid, my mother was given a straightedge razor. And according to Dorothy, “Earline shaved my grandaddy like she was a bona fide barber.”  

Claudette Lacey and Hollye Shotwell are daughters of the late Lucille Martin Hinton. The sisters were frequent visitors in my mother’s childhood home on N. Third Street. Hollye is 84. Claudette is 88. As classmates, Claudette and Mama went to school together from first grade at Grant Elementary until they graduated from Manassas High in 1954. When I ask about Mama’s personality as a teenager, Hollye says, “Earline liked to read books and she loved to talk.” 

When we speak on the phone, Claudette tells me, “Alice Faye! You sound just like Earline.” It pleases me very much that some audible part of my mother resides with me. 

As for Verna Vaughn’s friendship with Mama, their herstory intersected through girlhood, fellowship at St. James AME Church, and their employment in the Memphis schools. Mama was eight years older than Verna, who recently turned 80. As children, Verna and her sister Carol deemed Mama to be an “authority figure.” Verna says, “Earline was the big girl who walked the little children to Sunday School. She would fuss and make us behave in church.”

When segregation was abolished in the Memphis schools, Mama and Verna joined a cohort of Black teachers who integrated the faculty at Snowden School. Verna was the librarian and Mama taught 6th grade. As her coworker, Verna discovered that my mother’s intolerance for foolishness was unchanged. She tells me often, “I would walk to her classroom to chitchat and socialize. But Earline would stop me at the door and say, ‘No-no, Verna!’” 

Do you miss somebody this holiday season? An old adage says that we live forever if people continue to speak our names. Therefore, gather with others and call to mind your special person. Giggle, gush, and luxuriate in the glow of who they were. Raise your voice and speak many names. Remember love. Happy holidays! 

Earline Duncan served as a Memphis teacher for 39 years. To hear her speak about the integration experiment in local schools, visit Rhodes College at vimeo.com/279358197. Alice Faye Duncan is a Memphis educator who writes for children. Learn about her books at alicefayeduncan.com.

Categories
Opinion The Last Word

Home Is Where the Ho Show Is

“Have you ever had a good birthday?” my wife asked, incredulous, after I had lovingly described one of my childhood’s better birthdays. 

“Well, sure,” I countered, “I’ve had all great birthdays since I met you. Also when I turned 7 years old and got walkie talkies. My friends and I played flashlight tag outside, so it must have been a warm December. That was definitely a good birthday.” 

My wife and I had this discussion on the way home after my most recent celebration of another spin around the sun, a quiet day spent bopping around Memphis and culminating in a leisurely stroll around a holiday art market at Minglewood Hall. We went to the market to see my sister-in-law, Kaylee Hammer (@k.hammer.art on Instagram), and critique her art display. Because we had already had a full day — and we’ve got quite a few Kaylee Hammer originals and prints on our walls — we almost decided to head home early. We caught a second wind, though, and it blew us back to Midtown and into the big building that used to house Strings and Things. 

That was when my wife and I stumbled upon the Ho Show, a special holiday-themed “early Ho Ho Ho party” at B-Side inside the Minglewood Hall plaza, in the form of a writers-in-the-round-style performance from Memphis songwriting greats Susan Marshall, Reba Russell, and Bobbie Stacks. Russell’s voice, instantly recognizable to any amateur-level appreciator of Memphis music, called to me from around the corner. I wandered toward B-Side in a trance, like a sleepwalker summoned forth. Nothing sounds quite so sweet as unexpected and familiar music.

The concert was fully audible at the art market in Minglewood’s central gallery, so I perused the locally made art while grooving to a soulful cover of The Beatles’ “Don’t Let Me Down.” 

Of course, most cities have some music on offer most nights, and in bigger or wealthier cities the variety on display can be a veritable cornucopia of concerts. There is something distinctly magical about the quality of art on display in the Bluff City, though. To stumble onto a packed concert featuring respected and veteran performers, all cracking jokes and getting loose in a decidedly unscripted performance, side-by-side with a local artists’ market on a doggone cold, drizzly Sunday night in a city as small as Memphis? That’s magical. 

The level of Memphis-cana on display was notable as well. I chatted about Memphis-made beer (including Memphis Made beer) with a local candlemaker. I saw Tigers and Grizzlies aplenty, recreated in different artists’ individual styles. References to the pyramid’s crystal skull or Three 6 Mafia illustrated the fierce hometown pride that seems to permeate the air here. 

Chatting with one of the artists, I learned about a Holiday Bazaar at the Lamplighter Lounge — yet another chance to supplement my traditional locally made and bought seasonal gifts with even quirkier options! 

The long and the short of it is that, instead of calling it a night and retiring with Netflix and some leftovers, I spent a little time in our city, and it rewarded me with music and art and conversation. Those kinds of unplanned moments can offer a little soul sustenance when the grind toward year’s end gets going in overdrive, and I know I am looking for every opportunity to feed my soul these days. 

As an adult, it’s easy to feel strapped to the wheel, careening from Thanksgiving to Christmas to New Year’s Day at a breakneck pace. If there are children in our lives, it can be tempting to focus on the added responsibilities of ensuring their happiness. Holiday and end-of-year parties offer a welcome chance to unwind, but so too do they clutter up the already overfilled calendar with more appointments. Year-end goals loom, and next year’s resolutions await. 

In my limited experience, this season brings stress in exponential levels — and so much of that self-same stress is absolutely unnecessary and utterly unproductive. Kids seem to be as enchanted with the season itself as with the specific presents. It’s fun to have time off school, make a tremendous mess with wrapping paper, and have the go-ahead from parents and grandparents to watch cartoons and eat cookies all day. Parties and reunions should be a chance to catch up and reconnect, not a reason to worry about the menu or the wardrobe or an appropriate gift to bring. And anyone who always meets their annual goals and perfectly sticks to their resolutions is trying too hard; cut yourself some slack. 

More often than not, magic falters when forced. It’s by keeping our eyes open to whatever magic comes our way that we create a memorable experience. True, that requires trust and letting go of control, but it’s worth it. The cultural undercurrents here are as wild and weird and strong as the Mississippi. Go with the flow, and Memphis will reward you. 

Jesse Davis is a former Flyer staffer; he writes a monthly Books feature for Memphis Magazine. His opinions, such as they are, are setting up firm boundaries about talking politics with family.

Categories
Opinion The Last Word

Colossus

In the race to build artificial intelligence, the environmental cost of progress has found a new ground zero: Memphis, Tennessee. There, in a former manufacturing facility owned by the Swedish multinational Electrolux, Elon Musk’s xAI has quietly constructed what Nvidia CEO Jensen Huang calls “easily the fastest supercomputer on the planet.” Built in just 19 days — a feat Huang claimed would take others a year — Colossus, the supercomputer, comes with a toxic catch.

The environmental impact of operating the Colossus center, used to power xAI’s chatbot Grok, is immense. Touted as possessing a “sense of humor” and slated for a December debut, the latest Grok 3 model will not only consume an astonishing amount of energy during its initial training phase, but will continue to demand 10 times the energy of a standard Google search for each individual query processed. The project was rushed into operation without air permits, powered by at least 18 Taurus 60 methane gas turbines that are pumping pollutants including greenhouse gas emissions and dangerous waste by-products into neighborhoods already struggling with some of America’s worst air quality. 

Each of the Taurus 60 gas turbines at the facility generates 5.6 megawatts of power, enough to power 5,000 average U.S. households. And this is just the beginning — having raised $6 billion in venture capital funding earlier this year, xAI has already secured agreements with Memphis Light, Gas & Water and the Tennessee Valley Authority to potentially double its power consumption for the post-training inference phase, with an additional undisclosed capacity approved through seven electric, gas, and water contracts with the local utility, despite community protests. The current 18 gas turbines, powering 100,000 liquid-cooled Nvidia graphical processing units, result in annual emissions of 72.3 tons of nitrogen oxides (NOx), 196.4 tons of carbon monoxide, and an alarming 438,000 tons of CO2 equivalent per turbine. Multiply that by 18 turbines, and you have an environmental disaster in the making. The human cost? In Shelby County, where more than half the population are people of color and the poverty rate is 1.5 times the national average, incidences of childhood asthma are already the highest in the state. The additional pollution from xAI’s facility threatens to worsen these health burdens, costing the community around $400 million annually from carbon pollution alone. 

The burden of environmental costs from ill-sited, large-scale AI infrastructure does not end at carbon pollution. In South Memphis’ Boxtown neighborhood less than two miles east of the factory, residents already face a cancer rate four times the national average and a life expectancy 10 years below the city average. The American Lung Association has given the South Memphis area an “F” grade for ozone, and now xAI’s unpermitted turbines could add an estimated 1,301 tons of nitrogen oxides, a precursor to ozone pollution, annually to Memphis’ air. The community hosts a concerning collection of industrial facilities, including a steel mill and an oil refinery. Now, they’re bearing the burden of Musk’s AI ambitions.

The project’s approval process itself raises troubling questions about corporate accountability and local governance. The project was launched in a rapid and secretive manner: The facility’s location was initially kept secret for “global security concerns”; local officials were bound by nondisclosure agreements; even Memphis City Council members were taken by surprise with the sudden announcement of the facility. While xAI promised the community 300 jobs, they currently list just 32 positions — most of them hourly, contractual roles in administrative support.

This isn’t Musk’s first environmental controversy. SpaceX operated without Clean Water Act permits in Texas, The Boring Company was fined for unauthorized wastewater discharge, and Tesla faced citations for hazardous air pollutant emissions. Now, xAI is following this concerning pattern in a state with obviously worsening air pollution trends.

The irony is rich: Colossus powers Grok, marketed as an “anti-woke” alternative to ChatGPT, while perpetuating environmental racism. While competitors like Microsoft and Google invest in renewable energy for their AI infrastructure, xAI chose the path of highest environmental impact, and least cost. Morgan Stanley estimates data centers will triple their CO2 emissions by decade’s end due to AI development. But must this progress come at the expense of vulnerable communities? The residents of South Memphis deserve better than subsidizing technological advancement with their health.

The solution isn’t to halt AI development but to demand responsible innovation. xAI must obtain proper permits, install modern pollution controls, and engage transparently with the community through the life cycle of its AI plans. This is even more imperative as xAI’s self-styled techno king Musk takes on his new advisory role at the Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE). Local officials must also prioritize environmental concerns over expedited development. 

As we marvel at AI’s potential to “understand the universe” — xAI’s stated mission — we cannot ignore its earthly impacts. The true measure of progress should not be merely the speed or scale of innovation, but the inclusivity and sustainability of its benefits. Until then, Memphis’ children will continue to breathe the toxic cost of progress. 

Jalal Awan, Ph.D., is an electrical engineer with a doctorate in public policy analysis. Opinions expressed are his own.

Categories
Opinion The Last Word

How Can We Fight Back?

In the wake of Donald Trump’s re-election, with promises to gut federal programs like the Department of Education and the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) and further harm marginalized communities, many are left asking: How can we fight back?

We are not powerless. Our local elected officials have a lot more power than we think (or than they’d like us to believe) — even in a red state like Tennessee. I would know, having drafted and led successful local efforts to pass policies for social, economic, and environmental justice during the first Trump administration and under an extremist supermajority legislature.

Now more than ever, local leaders must be bold and imaginative. They need to step up and fill the gaps left by any federal neglect. 

To address the inflation that will likely worsen under Trump’s leadership, local leaders could implement policies like grocery stipends for low-income residents (especially if GOP legislators once again block efforts to end the regressive grocery tax). With the president-elect signaling an end to key healthcare subsidies, local governments can build and protect healthcare safety nets for our community. We can also find creative ways to navigate restrictive state laws. For instance, while we may not be able to mandate living wages or rent control outright, local leaders can offer incentives to businesses and landlords that voluntarily adopt these policies.

This is our moment for decisive, fearless action to improve our economy, safeguard our environment, and protect the rights of Black and LGBTQ residents, women, and immigrants. If we don’t act now, families will face deeper economic insecurity, more children will go without quality education, and entire communities will feel the brunt of healthcare cuts and environmental devastation. The first months of Trump’s new administration could set us back years unless we prepare local defenses now.

I firmly believe we have more tools at our local policy fingertips than we realize; we just need the political will and creativity to make them a reality. We’ve already seen governors Gavin Newsom, J.B. Pritzker, and others step up, vowing to sue the federal government if they come after their constituents’ rights, protections, and funding. By the way, these states also have their own agencies to aggressively fight climate change that don’t rely on the whims of federal policy (now there’s an idea).

We need more leadership like Memphis City Council Chairman JB Smiley, who led local efforts to push for common-sense gun control, even as the state threatened to strip local sales tax revenue in retaliation for challenging their inaction on gun violence. Chairman Smiley showed us that we don’t have to accept the status quo or bullying; we can challenge it and win.

Rather than accepting the likely response from local leaders that their hands are tied by this incoming administration and our legislature, we should be asking, “What can you do?” We all can, and should, as Michelle Obama told us, “do something.” I’m not talking flashy or bully pulpit politics; it’s about advancing practical policy that addresses the root causes of poverty, violence, lack of healthcare access, and environmental injustice, no matter where you sit.

For community members deeply concerned about the fate of our future: This is our fight, too. Get involved with local organizations that push for impactful legislation and systemic change. You’ve got organizations all across the spectrum to choose from, like Decarcerate Memphis, Just City, Memphis Interfaith Coalition for Action and Hope, Memphis Community Against Pollution, Memphis For All, Protect Our Aquifer, Stand for Children Tennessee, and the official Black Lives Matter chapter. 

Get to know your local elected leaders, too — what they lead on (or don’t) — and hold them accountable. Show up where decisions are made: city council meetings, public hearings, and town halls. This is where elected power is exercised, and where we can witness if their votes align with their promises. 

But we must go beyond just demanding action — this is the easy part. We also need to work with our leaders to develop thoughtful, actionable solutions. Those closest to the problems are often closest to the solutions, and they know best what their communities need. Now is the time to push for bold, concrete solutions that directly address the challenges facing our communities. 

These local fights matter more than ever. They not only build our capacity for larger-scale work but also set a precedent that can inspire other cities to follow suit. 

We all have a role to play, and nothing will change if we don’t believe it can and act accordingly. As organizer Mariame Kaba reminds us, “Hope is a discipline.” It requires commitment to become the very hope we seek. The moral arc of the universe doesn’t bend towards justice on its own; we have to make it so. 

Alex Hensley has championed 10-plus justice-centered laws as former special assistant to Mayor Lee Harris and policy chair of Decarcerate Memphis. She is the founder of Co•mentum Strategies, a political and advocacy firm, and the creator of the Strategy Studio, a course for emerging policy advocates. Find her on Instagram @alexhensley.

Categories
Opinion The Last Word

An Elegy for Wiles-Smith

On Saturdays, my grandfather used to take me and the other grandkids to Wiles-Smith Drugstore for lunch. We would sit, hang out and be kids, drink malted milkshakes, and eat hot dogs or club sandwiches or tuna-fish salads. He would always get the same thing: a bowl of chili with three or so crackers, and he’d bring his own Mississippi-style tamales with him.

I remember there was a vintage copper-plated weighing scale when you first entered. My cousin Will and I would play with it, feeding it coins, taking turns getting weighed. It spat out a paper card with a fortune on it. What was mindless scrawl for an adult had seemed like wisdom to our little-kid-brains, with our wild imaginations. Gumball machines and tchotchkes littered the store. Above the register were mindless doodles and political cartoons. One of those cartoons I remember fondly: a duck looking calm above the water, but paddling maddeningly below the surface. The joke, I don’t remember. That’s not the important part to me. The cashier was an old man, the owner I believe, who wore tiny half-moon glasses and knew my grandfather by name. When I went to the bathroom, there was a dingy glow to the bulb and the towel was a recycled cloth roll. I spent half my bathroom breaks just tugging on it, making the Sisyphean object endlessly move, imagining that each rotation was actually a brand-new roll.

Wiles-Smith burned down in 2014, a year before I graduated from college.

Recently, another Memphis staple lost its home to rising rent: Black Lodge.

When I first encountered this wonderful establishment, it lived in Cooper-Young, every wall covered in DVDs, each section its own genre. Movies weren’t categorized as just Horror or Comedy. Instead, as Auteurs or Moods. One section, I recall, was Anime Classics. Neon Genesis and Akira rested on the shelves. David Lynch had his own dedicated section. Every single iteration of that man’s genius sat on its own shelf. That’s how I found DumbLand, the greatest “stupidity” I’ve ever enjoyed.

It wasn’t just a rental shop, though. Kids of all ages would be there, lounged and perched like cats in an adoption center, just hanging out and shooting the shit. Once, I went on a date there, and all we did was watch a movie on the TV. I think it was Ennio Morricone’s Django. Or maybe the director was Sergio Corbucci. Matt, the proprietor, would know. He knows every movie, and, in fact, a secret of his was to know the movie you wanted before you could even say so.

Black Lodge, a year or so after I went to college, had to move. When I came back to Memphis after my six-month stint in Portland, I got a room next door to the old location and watched as the landlord slowly transformed the place into a music venue. A piece of my heart broke with each hammer against board.

When Black Lodge found a new home in the Crosstown area, they put all their money and sweat and tears and, possibly literally, blood into it. At first, it was a success. They drew in old heads and new ones, too. Slowly, they added a bar and kitchen and started having movie nights. A local chef, Jimmy, had crafted five-course meals for $60 a seat, designed around a certain movie. The event for Everything Everywhere All at Once had hot-dogs, congee, and an everything bagel dessert. It was a perfect experience.

There were other events, too: drag performances, wrestling shows, and even a few raves. Local musicians got their start on the stage, comedy troupes hosted sketches twice a month, and still, yes, folks rented tons of movies. There were spots for gamers and board-game enthusiasts. Truly, Black Lodge was the third space to end all third spaces. 

But not even they could survive the Covid-19 pandemic and rising rent in Memphis. Alas, they shuttered their doors mid-August 2024.

As I write this, I think of these other third spaces in danger right now: local cafes especially. One place, Java Cabana, is renovating, and I hope they get business when they reopen. 

Oh, where are those diners? Where are our lodges? How much longer will we even have our green spaces? I can already hear a developer singing out: You can build apartments there, you know …

I may miss my milkshakes and my grandfather. But I hope I don’t add third spaces to that list as well. Cherish what you have while it’s here. 

William Smythe is a local writer and poet. He writes for Focus Mid-South, an LGBT+ magazine.