If I had to typecast the first scenes of one's trip Louisiana, Interstate 55 would be cast to play the part. For about 22 miles, the highway hovers over the Manchac Swamp, bordered by mangrove trees and hopeful potential for alligator sightings. Instead, we settled for occasional fishermen, seemingly at peace and "away from it all" despite several lanes of overhead traffic. It's hard to not immediately recognize the region's distinct topography, because it's so unlike anywhere else I've seen. Sure, the moss looks icky and you're not really certain where the grime ends and the water begins, but it's captivating nonetheless. When most people envision "nature," it's pristine but, in this case, the swamp's grunginess is just as pleasing and interesting to look at as anything else.
Already thinking of New Orleans as homebase after spending just one night there, we eventually crossed over from Louisiana into Mississippi over the course of a couple hour drive. It's fitting that our first stop in the state was in its capital when it was established as the Mississippi Territory in 1798. Overlooking the Mississippi River, with Vidalia, Louisiana just across the bridge, Natchez is a city that the present may have not completely forgotten, but hadn't quite taken much care of either. A deadly tornado here, a Civil War there, and a place once considered the state's cultural hotspot starts to lose its flare. Thankfully though, this preserved-in-time feeling is what made it worth the visit.
Sprinkled about the city are picturesque antebellum, or pre-Civil War, homes, hearkening back to when Natchez had the most millionaires per capita of any city in the US. But of course, with manors galore, we decided to tour the unfinished one: Longwood.
Check my Twitter feed (@AndrewE_Johnson) for a picture, but even though its construction was cut short, it is still considered among the grandest examples of the era's affluent housing. Designed by a Philadelphia architect in 1859, the project was stopped when he fled back up North in support of the Union when the Civil War broke two years later. The wealthy Nutt family, Longwood's proprietors, were forced to drastically settle for a downsizing, going from its original 32 rooms to only nine completed basement floor level rooms.
The exterior - from the lengthy drive from the gate to the house, its dome, and its grandiose balconies along its octagonal shape to its dome - was completed, but the top seven of its eight floors are just wooden floorboards, abandoned tools, and unfulfilled opulence. For decades, due to the Nutt father's death in 1864 and financial constraints, Longwood maintained only a livable basement. As a visitor, you sympathize with and relate to the family. The missed joy that would've resulted from a realized Longwood leaves you unsatisfied and, more so, disappointed; your marvel is just as incomplete as the house.
We then made our way into downtown Natchez and wandered around Main Street. Every block seemed to have multiple plaque designating a building as some sort of historical landmark, displaying the city's past significance to not just the state, but the entire country. Some of the shops were open, others had kindly posted signs saying they were closed for the week to enjoy the holidays. Permanently closed though was the old movie 1950s-era theater, with the blank marquee hanging over the boarded up entrance. Despite nearly a century apart in activity, the theater felt like what I imagine the antebellum homes did after their initial purpose had peaked: once a proud symbol of the city, now a standing remainder of what has been lost.
We had dinner in a section called Natchez-Under-the-Hill, a short walk down towards the Mississippi River from the city's perch atop the hill. A few buildings have managed to squeeze onto a slight sliver of land right on the River, allowing for a gorgeous view as we dug into our shrimp and catfish and the sun dug into the horizon. It is awesome - in the truest sense of that word - to realize that this river is the very same one that's mere blocks from my apartment in Minneapolis. That's an observation that will continue to impress me throughout the trip.
Eventually, we left Natchez in the same way so much else has. I tend to get nostalgic for somewhere's yesteryears, even when it's my first time ever visiting there. While, like in Natchez's case, it may involve a fall from prominence and import, I still enjoy the sentiment of reminiscence because it allows me to put a figurative face to a history, culture, and lifestyle of somewhere outside of what I already know. It has its faults and its shortcomings, but what place doesn't? It's still standing and we remember it, so there's something to be said of that and what it represents.
Right now, we're an hour north of Natchez, spending the night in Vicksburg before heading to see the battle site of the city's siege by Union troops, a total swing in momentum at the midpoint of the Civil War, tomorrow morning. From there, we'll make a few stops, including in Jackson, as we drive some more, before hopefully ending up in Alabama for a night. Seeing that this morning's late start didn't quash the enjoyment of the day, I'll take a lesson from Natchez and make the most of what we have to work with, be it daylight or patience, and value what I already have, an already-great trip and time with family.
No comments:
Post a Comment