I Write Poetry!

My great-grandmother at the beach.

1976. First from Vacation series.

July 1976. Sixth from Vacation series.

Bird migration above Memphis, TN. 1977.

Holiday feast. Memphis, TN. 1977.

My grandmother. June 1957.

Israel, late 1970s. From my mother's kibbutz stay.

A true Memphis legend. Graceland Too, in Holly Springs, MS, was one of the weirdest places I've ever been. RIP Paul McLeod.

A few thoughts on the passing of Paul McLeod — He was a very troubled man, consumed by obsession. It covered the walls and ceiling of his house. It was his life, day in and day out. If you thought about it for any length of time, you’d realize it was a very sad situation. Mental illness is an ugly beast. But he brought so much joy to so many people. I have nothing but fond memories from my 30+ visits to see him. I brought my parents once, in one of the only times I went before midnight. I can still find my picture on his walls. I’ve given tours in his stead while he welcomed new guests. And I’ve taken more people than I can remember for their inaugural visit. Not a single one ever took him up on his money back “and I’ll pay you” guarantee. His son has been gone for years, and if I were him I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same. He named his son Elvis. His wife of 22 years said, “It’s Elvis or me,” and he showed her the door. He loved Elvis. He loved everything about Elvis. And he loved sharing that love with thousands and thousands of people from around the world. He always said he was going to be buried in that gold sequin suit he had made. I hope his last wish is granted. Rest in peace, Paul McLeod. Glory glory hallelujah.

Memphis, TN.

Water Valley, MS. Train depot.