June 2, 2019 – You already know that Clarksdale provided me with the most powerful night of the trip at Red’s. But that Mississippi Delta town was special before we even got to Red’s, because of Jennifer Ruskey, our Airbnb host.

And the story of how we rented a room in Jennifer’s place is arguably better, because Kirsti and I were never going to go to Clarksdale in the first place.

We were headed to Memphis.

But a good friend, a total character of a man named Jeff Flagg, was talking to me about the trip weeks before we left and said we should scrap Memphis and go to Clarksdale Mississippi, the home of the blues.

I’d never heard of it.

Kirsti and I had been to Memphis on the first 13-day excursion we did together, and had a blast. But Jeff is an animated guy, and explained all the reasons why Clarksdale is a better choice – including Jennifer’s place! He spoke a bit about the accommodations, saying that it’s an eclectic shared house, but that we’d have the upstairs to ourselves. We hadn’t planned on sharing spaces on this trip, but because of how great he made Jennifer sound, I was willing to try. I have always loved meeting new people and she sounded so interesting.

But it almost didn’t happen.

A month before we were to arrive, Jennifer reached out asking if we’d be willing to take the other downstairs bedroom she rents because she had a long-term renter interested in the upstairs. It was about the same size, she said, but after more emails back and forth, I noticed the bathroom only had one of those old claw-foot tubs, no shower, and I’m really not a take-a-bath-in-a-tub guy, even in my own house.

I agreed to let her rent the place to not lose out on two months of rent, but told her we were going to pass mostly because of the lack of a shower. She was thankful, apologetic and although I was a little bummed at having to look for another place, it felt like the right thing to do.

I also asked her not to rent the second room for a couple days in case we couldn’t find anything.

She agreed, but then she also said she was certain the upstairs tenant would let us use the shower if we wanted to reconsider. She also offered us a great deal and since we were spending a lot on the trip and it was just for one night – and she came so highly recommended – we agreed to give it a try.

Fast forward a month and we had been driving several hours from Nashville and were happy to again park the van when we arrived at her stately yellow home.

It was nice on the outside with a cool southern porch, but when you walked inside, it got far more interesting. Decadent wooden sculptures dotted the rooms. Art hung everywhere. Our room had a queen bed and private bathroom, with room for our air mattress in either room.

We chatted with Jennifer, and learned she was an art teacher from Colorado, but moved to Clarksdale to care for her elderly parents and be close to her brother, an accomplished river guide and artist himself.

She was such a gracious host, a great conversationalist and even made us French press coffee with fruit, yogurt and scones for breakfast.

She suggested Red’s too, and for that I’ll be forever grateful.

Our time in Clarksdale was short, less than a full day, but it left such a mark on us that I wanted to do more with the story than just our monumental visit to Red’s.

I wanted to talk to Red, to see if he remembered Kirsti and to see what he’d say about her.

And I did talk to him.

Sort of.

In follow-up texts, I asked Jennifer if she could get me in touch with him.

She connected me with a man named Jon Levingston, who interestingly has three daughters, including one who is a musician and who he lugs equipment for, like me. He wrote in an email that he loved our road trip story and then told me to contact a good friend of Red’s named Roger Stolle, who runs a blues bookstore in town.

I did, and that’s how I got Red’s number.

I called it, and he answered and I quickly did my best to explain who I was, that we were in his place not long ago and my daughter sang there, providing me the highlight of the entire trip and that I’m writing about it.

He asked when I wanted to do the interview.

I said whenever he can.

He suggested Thursday at about the same time I called, like 2 p.m. I thanked him, and was psyched that this was going to happen! Again, Red’s is such a treasure and he was going to provide that cool source to make this part of the story that much better!

But when I called on Thursday, reintroduced myself and got ready to ask some questions, he hung up.

When I called again, hoping we just got disconnected, it just kept ringing – like it did that night Kirsti played there when others were trying to reach him.

I reached back out to Stolle asking if I blew my chance and here’s what I got back: “Red told me that you had called the other day and I asked how it went but he was super short and vague simply saying that he told you to call back. I asked him if he remembered your daughter, but basically he replied something to the effect of he doesn’t really remember anybody. I’m not sure how pressing the timing is on this but I would suggest that you write a short letter or card to Red and enclose close a couple photographs. If you do you can send it here and I will personally put it in his hands and see if that helps. He is much better in person than on the phone, but also I should say that when he found out you were a writer he seemed less interested (or I would assume based on past history more interested in being paid to talk… so I suppose that’s always an option as well).”

            This project got shelved shortly after that and I didn’t follow up with Stolle again until October of 2022. I sent him a picture in the email – the one Paul Woodland shot that shows Red in the background watching her, but have yet to hear back. Maybe my inability to get a chat with him just adds to the story.

            Although Jennifer, our amazing host, was also difficult to track down for a follow-up interview, her brother John, a well-known river guide, adventurer, artist and musician, did talk at length about his transplanted home of Clarksdale.

            He spoke about Jennifer as his hero calling her a “hero art teacher” that is so devalued these days. And he spoke about his love of rivers and how he became a “hopeless river rat 40 years ago and became a refugee on a muddy island in Mississippi.”

            Ruskey is known in part for his 2,500-mile trek on the Missouri River from Montana to St. Louis in a homemade dugout canoe and for his Quapaw Canoe Company guided river tours. But he is also a blues fanatic and was heavily involved with Clarksdale’s Delta Blues Museum.

He spoke about how Robert Johnson gets all the attention for his supposed deal with the devil in Clarksdale, but he considers the area to be owned more by Muddy Waters.

In between stories, he’d revert back to metaphors, like, “Music is the tonic of the soul. It’s the prayer of the universe and without music we’d wilt like a flower in the desert.”

And he spoke about the Sunflower River that runs through the town and how polluted and sad it is, but how it’s full of stories too – especially of all the musicians lived along it or stayed in the Riverside Motel – like Pinetop Perkins, B.B. King, Muddy Waters, Big Jack Johnson, Robert Nighthawk and Johnny Lee Hooker. 

And these days, along that same river, musicians like Muleman Massey in places like Red’s Lounge are keeping it alive, he said.

“We say it’s a lonely river with a bad case of the blues,” he said. “Clarksdale is one of the places where it’s still bubbling, and still alive. Music every night of the week somewhere in town.”

            And when told that Clarksdale and Red’s left such a huge impact on us and was going to be chapter one of this book, Ruskey didn’t seem surprised.

            “She’s not alone in having that experience in Clarksdale. We know how to treat musicians right. They are respected here,” he said.

            In November 2022, when I finally was able to reach Jennifer for a chat, she spoke about our visit and how what she remembered most was my excitement after Kirsti’s impromptu gig at Red’s.

She said it was clear there was a closeness between Kirsti and me.

We talked about her eclectic home with all her sculptures and her brother’s paintings that served as a conversation piece to her Airbnb guests.

“It’s like a little gallery she said,” revealing that for a time she was a professional artist.

We talked about COVID and how it shut down her Airbnb. We talked about our mutual love of live music and she said her brother now has a professional musician fiancée Heather Cross, who was touring in Brazil at the time.

Jennifer, like her brother, also talked about the almost spiritual impact Clarksdale has on people who come there and hear local blues. She said the blues are so powerful there.

“It’s a very authentic place,” she said. “I think everyone who comes here has a deep feeling and I completely attribute it to the amount of pain that has been suffered here. It being the home of the blues is apropos.”

Before we got off the phone, I asked if there was anything she’d like to add. It’s a standard final question for reporters in interviews and often leads to something rich that the reporter didn’t think of.

What she said made me smile.  

“I just know if I was your daughter, I’d be truly honored that you’re taking the time to do this,” she said.

            Sadly, Red Paden passed away in December 2023 and tributes poured in on social media. I never did find out whether he remembered Kirsti’s performance at his place, but we will surely always remember him and that special night in his unique, red-drenched juke joint.