We live in Memphis. 99% of the time this makes me sad. Really, really sad. Because our city shames itself a lot. We forget that we are the city on the Bluff. The one that held off soldiers to Nashville in the Civil War. The one a kid named Elvis decided to try to be famous in. Where BB King wailed all night long Where Johnny Cash became a household name. Where a man stood up for what he believed in, and another man killed him for the same reason. This is where Martin Luther King, Jr. was last. It's blues, it's barbecue. It's Beale Street and Overton Park. But usually this is dismissed
Usually Memphis is the city where the police are mocked. Where people are great at killing each other and politics is more important than education when it comes to children. Where Graceland sits in the heart of sadness. Where what gang lives where determines where school zoning lines are drawn. The city that Tennessee would rather forget. And for good reason.
But sometimes there are great moments. When neighbors help out neighbors. When we step up and forget for a minute what color someone is and just hug them. Nothing does that for our city like sports. The University of Memphis Tigers are amazing. Basketball is our thing. And we have a pro team too. The Memphis Grizzlies. Oh yeah. You've heard of them? That's because they were just playing in the Western Conference Finals. What, what? We are very proud of the Grizz!
But that's not what makes me proud. What makes me proud is how Memphis don't care who you are. That's right. Memphis don't care about your fancy butt and multi-million dollar salary. Here we treat people with respect, and that goes for everyone that's not you. Recently Mr. Ex-Eva Longoria was here in town to play some basketball. He does it well. And he knows it. So he walks into Restaurant Iris, one of the top restaurants in the country. So much so that they already have a two-week wait just to get in. It's hot. It's what's hip in Memphis right now. Everyone who is anyone is trying to get into that place. You can't get a table. But Mr. Flashy-pants shows his butt demanding a table. And here's what makes me proud. Restaurant Iris says "no". No they didn't! Oh yes ma'am. They sure did. They told him to go stuff it. He wasn't getting a table. I'm sorry, you're who again? Mr. IT DOESN'T MATTER. That's who. It's their policy. And the Commercial Appeal told it all. Super simple. You want a table, you wait like everyone else. You're. Not. Special.
So often our society has become a "yes oh famous person can I please kiss your butt" society. Rich and famous always seems to equal " I can get what I want and treat whoever I want like crap to get it. Little guy be darned". "Don't you know who I am?" becomes this arrogant entitlement for those who have been in the news for more than describing what the fire did to their house. Famous guy wants a table at a Memphis restaurant that is top in the country? Ain't nobody gonna make time for that!
That's why I'm proud. Because sometimes everyone is equal.
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