There’s a whole new Memphis out there. It waits for you just outside your everyday routine, somewhere just a few streets away from those four or five places that comprise a personal rut you might not know even exists.
Routines are fine; humans thrive on them. But their comfort can shield you from having a bigger, fuller Memphis experience. For example, if you’ve ever talked with your bartender about the new-colored urinal cakes at your favorite watering hole’s de-watering hole, it might be time to try that new place you heard about at work.
Memphis is a big place with something for just about anyone. This year (in lieu of piling on with New Year’s health tips and habit breakers), we want to help you — encourage you — to go out and rediscover this amazing city we call home.
Our writers did just that. They opened their eyes a bit wider, went hunting Memphis (and sometimes beyond) for that niche thing they love, tuned into that vibration here, discovered that whole new Memphis, and will carry it with them into 2023. — Toby Sells
Disc Golfin’
College was the last time I laid hands on a disc golf disc. I only bought some discs back then because my buddy was crazy about the sport, he wanted me to go with him, and I wanted to drink beers outside.
I thought it was silly. Grown men throwing Frisbees into a basket. Frrrp. Please. And I was scolded for calling it a “Frisbee” (some copyright dispute, I was told) and for “not taking it seriously.” Well, I played a few times that one summer, drank some beers, quit when I lost two discs ($20!) in a pond, and relegated my other discs to a box in the attic.
Many, many years later, I found myself at a park with a disc golf course last fall in Roanoke, Virginia. I saw folks throwing and it looked more fun than scrolling Reddit while my kids hit the playground. I approached a player, curious to know if I could buy discs somewhere close. The guy opened his bag, pulled out two discs, handed them to me, and said, “It’s a fun game. You should play.”
Of course I told him I couldn’t take them, but he insisted and walked away before I could protest any further. I was and remain gobsmacked. My family and I played, and the afternoon sparkled with this brand-new way to spend time together. Thank you, kind stranger. Sincerely.
Back in Memphis, I immediately dug my old discs out of the attic and started digging on the internet. I was so happy to find that the city is rich with great courses, all of them just waiting for me to explore.
The sport has taken me off my beaten path (work, home, Boscos, Memphis Made) to Kennedy Park in Raleigh, Sea Isle, down in the hollers at the Shelby Forest, Shelby Farms, and to the All Veterans Golfplex tucked away off Airways surrounded by warehouses and factories. It has shown me around a town I’ve lived in for nearly 15 years.
Disc golf has become my cardio, my mental health medicine, my vitamin D source, my cure for doom-scrolling, and my outlet to beat the winter blues. It’s given me a reason to connect more with my buddy from college and to even shop at Outdoors Inc.
Disc golf hasn’t changed my life, but it has made changes to my life. They’re good changes, too, including the way I see and enjoy my city. — TS
Shopping at M-Town Market
I listen to a lot of old music. We can blame it on my Glee obsession, but you’ll likely hear me listening to Elton John’s take on “Pinball Wizard” on repeat in my car while wearing a shirt featuring the Rocket Man himself (bought brand-new from Urban Outfitters).
Graphic tees have long been a staple in my wardrobe, and while I can usually find what I am looking for online, these are often pieces manufactured this year, which lack the authenticity and nostalgia that make the item worth loving. I had long been a fan of thrift store finds such as Gilmore Girls box sets and old books, but I never had luck finding any cool and curated pieces. However, it turns out that I was just looking in the wrong places. Instead of focusing on big-name thrift stores, I learned that I could shift my focus to local vintage accounts on Instagram.
I found Grind City Vintage on Instagram, late in 2022. The store specializes in vintage clothing and shoes, and uses Instagram and Instagram stories as a way to conduct business. While Grind City Vintage is a business of its own, the owner, Jay Williams, also operates the M-Town Market with Studio 901. The market is hosted at least four times a year by 20-50 vendors, and shoppers can find vintage shoes and clothing.
“Our focus is vintage sneakers, and fashion as well,” said Williams. “Streetwear, stuff like that where it’s a lot of dope brands and local vendors that have done really well at our events but also have their own following.”
Williams also said that he and his team pride themselves on giving local vendors and brands an opportunity to put their brand out there, which he said makes them stand out from other markets. — Kailynn Johnson
Put on Your Pointe Shoes
I took my first ballet class this September — well, not my first ballet class ever. I dabbled in the art form when I was a wee one, before I could tie my own shoelaces or knew how to carry the one when adding big numbers. I also retired from the art form when I was a wee one. (At that point, I could tie my shoelaces and add big numbers.) I couldn’t tell you why I stopped going to class; I just did. I also couldn’t tell you what made me sign up for a beginners’ class this September at Ballet Memphis; I just did. Was it a need to relive my former glory days? A need to move my ever-sedentary body? A need simply to leave the house? All of the above?
Regardless, I went, seemingly just because, sans leotard or tights or ballet shoes, and danced in my socks. And I went back, week after week, in socks. I learned pique and rond de jambe (which I thought was spelled Ron de Jon until now) and tendu (which I’ve been mispronouncing “fondue” in my mind), and surprisingly, I’m nowhere near being en pointe. I kid, I kid; there’s not a chance in this lifetime that I’ll ever be en pointe, but for someone who’s a teensy bit of a perfectionist, being bad or, even worse, mediocre at something is a bit outside of my comfort zone. And boy, oh boy, is it freeing just to have that permission not to be good, to try and to fail, to feel a bit silly. It’s fun and challenging, physically and mentally, and every now and then, I get to feel like a graceful ballerina, and who doesn’t want to feel like a graceful ballerina, just because? — Abigail Morici
Never Too Late to Take a Swing at It
Decades ago — just how many I’m almost ashamed to say — I invested a not inconsiderable portion of a payday in the purchase of a brand-new set of golf clubs: all the irons and woods that one should have, plus a nice leather bag to carry them in. At the time, I had played just enough golf to think that if I ever learned to hit a ball off the ground cleanly, with either iron or wood, I might be halfway good. (I could drive off a tee fairly well.) Beginning at the age of 13, I had played only sporadically over the years, and I assumed that, armed with my new tools, I’d be out on the links fairly often.
For shame! I have never used those clubs, never played another round. The bag, burgeoning with all those shiny, still gleaming implements, has sat in various closets and garages ever since. The bag and clubs have functioned as an ornament of sorts, an aide to wishful thinking about what I still resolved to get out there some day and do.
Twice recently I have called up my friend and former Arkansas Gazette colleague Ernest Dumas over in Little Rock and been informed by his wife Elaine that he was out playing golf. I’ve been around a while, but Dumas is even older. He’s pushing 90, in fact, and when I finally got him on the phone, he informed me that his goal, which he’s managed to achieve once or twice, has been to shoot his age.
Basically, he took up the game upon retirement, and it now fills a fair share of his days. As a sport, golf is famously short on kinetics but long on fresh air and, even if one uses a cart, walking.
As it happens, I was in the hospital for a spell of late, and fresh air and walking would both serve as admirable therapeutics as I seek to regain at least a facsimile of my erstwhile energy and stamina. New year? New me? In a word: Fore! — Jackson Baker
Get Out!
Remember back in the dark days of 2020, when you were stuck inside your place while diseases ravaged the land? You vowed that, when all this is over, you would visit all the places that you wanted to go, but couldn’t. Well guess what? Now is the time to make good on that vow. Covid is still around, but you’re all vaxxed up and, when necessary, masked up. Gas prices have fallen from their Ukraine War peak. Amtrak just got a big funding boost. And the Memphis International Airport has that new terminal smell. (Don’t forget to take a selfie with Tommy Kha’s banned self-portrait as Elvis.) It’s time to get out of town, if only for a little while.
One of the great things about Memphis is its location in the middle of the continent. A day’s drive can get you to the Great Lakes, the Gulf Coast, Dollywood, or Dallas. Go on a hike at Dismals Canyon in Alabama. Swim and ski on Lake Ouachita in Arkansas. Shop Chicago’s Magnificent Mile. Visit the Andy Warhol Museum in Pittsburgh.
Go to a New Orleans Saints game in the Superdome. Follow Taylor Swift’s concert tour. Go where you want to go. Stay as long as you can. Have fun. Expand your consciousness. You’ll find things you love about your destination, and things you miss about Memphis. As the old saying goes, it is only through travel that you come to know your home for the first time. — Chris McCoy
Contain Multitudes, Music Lovers!
If any sector in Memphis is prone to trap people in self-imposed silos, it’s the music community. Perhaps it’s because we internalize music so deeply that our very identity becomes bound up in it. “And now you find you fit this identikit completely,” sang Elvis Costello many decades ago, and that concept rings true today, as we embrace our respective identikits in dance clubs or concert halls. And that’s fine, as far as it goes; we all need to find our tribe, our people. But don’t sleep on the city’s musical diversity while you’re doing so. Stepping outside of your comfort zone might just be the wake-up call you needed.
Meanwhile, plenty of music creators have been breaking down the boundaries for some time now. Blueshift Ensemble, classical players from the Memphis Symphony Orchestra, have collaborated with artists as diverse as Don Lifted and Mark Edgar Stuart. Recent supergroup Salo Pallini specializes in what they call “Progressive Latin Space Country” on their upcoming album. Al Kapone is forging a new path that combines rap with heavy, heavy blues. The Unapologetic collective, who take pride in their offbeat hip-hop, are just as proud of this year’s Nobody Really Makes Love Anymore by Aaron James, a straight-up emo tour de force. And then there’s MonoNeon, master of funk, jazz, gospel, indie rock … and the kitchen-sink sounds of George Clinton.
As Cory Branan recently told Glide Magazine, “Why limit myself to a certain genre? Whatever a song wants to wear is fine with me.” Maybe fans just need to catch up with the performers. “If I had to stand there and play acoustic singer-songwriter music all the time,” says Branan, “I’d be bored out of my mind.” — Alex Greene
Game Somewhere Else!
Rather than slide into the mind-numbing antics of reality TV or the thinking-person’s prestige series, my preferred method of unwinding after work is to toss down my coat and briefcase and fire up the ol’ Switch, PS5, or PC, and enjoy my evening as anonymous online 13-year-olds scream obscenities into voice chat and teabag my digital avatar’s lifeless, pixelated corpse.
It’s all in good fun, but despite advanced technology that allows players to connect with others from all over the world, gaming — whether it be board, card, or video — is always more fun playing in person. After all, if you can’t look into your friend’s eyes as you crush them piece by piece, and watch as their joy and enthusiasm slowly tilt toward shock, exasperation, and, most sweetly, utter dejection, then what’s the point? Luckily, if you know where to look, there are ready-made communities of gaming aficionados that will help you break out of the hobby’s somewhat solitary shell.
My favorite “discovery” has been Board to Beers, an elusive setup that convinces me to travel beyond the East Parkway line for a social call. Memphis’ first board game bar is a delight, home to owner Taylor Herndon’s collection of 400+ eclectic board games, some of which will leave players both entertained and scratching their heads. We tried out one fan-operated game that involved plucking sushi ingredients out of the air with chopsticks. Another, called Icecool, involved flicking penguins around a little board. That fact that you can curve and jump the penguins led to many out-of-board shenanigans, and some throbbing fingernails.
On the digital side of things, I flock to Nerd Alert in Cooper-Young, where I can almost guarantee some hustler is sitting on the Street Fighter II machine, waiting to grind me into dust before I can even get a hit in, and delivering a beatdown so bad that it feels like I’m actually getting kicked in the face by Chun-Li. But on a friendlier note, there’s always some rando available to help you tag-team the original Mario Bros. and rack up a high score. I may never get their name, but for one night, anyone can make a new friend.
And, of course, a shout-out to Black Lodge, which has its own board game rental plan and plenty of other competitive programming like the armored fight club. (That’s out of the question for me, but it sure is fun to watch.) Gaming doesn’t always have to be a solitary endeavor; in fact, there are plenty of places around town that will welcome new players with open arms. — Samuel X. Cicci
Say Thank You. To Everyone
Not a day shall pass this year without my offering up a heartfelt thank you. I say thanks to scads of people all the time, but it’s often perfunctory, sometimes begrudged, occasionally sarcastic. I’m perfectly happy to maintain my current level of loving snideness, but I find myself now — running heedlessly into 2023 — to be in great need of snark-free gestures.
Just as one utters grace before meals (for those who still perform that quaint ritual), I’m thinking how fulfilling it would be to take a few moments during the day to shine a light when Providence smiles.
Of course, it requires some real thought. It’s never worked for me to make a list a couple of days before Thanksgiving of the nice people and good fortune I’ve encountered. I’m too busy with preparations for holiday stuff and stuffing to add in a few dollops of gratitude for a year’s worth of good deeds.
How much better, then, to make it part of the quotidian routine along with eating, cleaning, meditating, exercising … well, I guess I can target those last two items for future resolutions.
Anyway, my intention will be to think well and truly of the people and institutions and energy going on all about and give them recognition. My list, which was too much ignored over Turkey Day, includes, for example, kudos to the artists who have made Concourse B at MEM a splendid gallery, and to the UrbanArt Commission that wrangled the project. In fact, just in the area of fine arts alone, we can have gratitude for what’s being done at Crosstown Concourse, the Metal Museum, the Dixon Gallery & Gardens, the Brooks (present and future), and in Orange Mound.
We live in a place that deserves all manner of thanks and respect. Great water, thrilling sports, sublime music, perfect water, natural wonders, caring people … well, you get the idea. And amen. — Jon W. Sparks
