According to plan, I stopped in Louisville after my first day of driving to Jonesborough, Tennessee to attend the storytelling festival. It represented a good chunk of drive time, and I thought I could take in a couple local attractions.
Of course, the Kentucky Derby Museum was a must. I also planned on visiting a distillery along the bourbon or whiskey trail on my way to Knoxville, where I planned to stay the following night.
I sampled some excellent Kentucky style hot chicken at Royal’s for dinner and caught a set of jazz at Jimmy Can’t Dance, an unexpected find, a basement bar and music venue downtown.
While walking down Main Street near 7th, I saw signs for the Ali Center, a tribute to Muhammad Ali who was from Louisville, and visiting before I left town the following day became fixed in my mind.
What a wonderful museum!
It had something for everyone – for sports enthusiasts, for spiritual seekers, for fans of spoken word art (With phrases like, “Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee,” maybe Ali was the father of rap), for 20th century history buffs, and for supporters of social justice.
Ali was a role model in so many ways. His life and authenticity still stands as a breeding ground for so much inspiration.
Throughout the museum and gift shop, a big emphasis was made of Red Bike Moments.
At 12, Cassius Marcellus Clay Jr’s red Schwinn bicycle was stolen from outside his Louisville home. He found a policeman and confessed that he wanted to whup the thief.
The policeman turned out to be a boxing coach. He helped the young Clay channel his anger and frustration into a commitment to excellence at his sport. The young Clay quickly came to the understanding that he could use his position as heralded athlete and brash personality to better the lives of others.
His red bike moment, his point of transformation, revolved around taking a devastating experience and turning it into a personnel pledge to always do his best and to be of service to others.
Headlines from newspapers decorated the walls. In small alcoves, video clips of famous and famously funny interviews with the likes of Howard Cosell ran in perpetual loops.
Larger than life posters and three-dimensional timelines brought us through his personal history; through unforgettable bouts and audacious quips, through his legal battles and public backlash over his decision not to serve in the military, through adopting Islam and changing his name, and his world travels as an ambassador of sorts after his boxing career ended.
The museum featured a variety of interactive exhibits.
My favorite was a chance to shadow box in the ring with him. I snapped a photo on my cell phone and sent it to a friend with the caption, “He didn’t land a blow.”
But I changed for having gotten in the ring with his likeness.
OMG. His silhouette was unmistakable. Lean and muscular. And fast…. Ducking and weaving. Dancing. I felt so clunky and slow in comparison. He was the epitome of grace in action.
And our time circling each other in virtual reality only served to bring his spirit deeper into my heart – a symbol of what I’d like all people to do for each other. Set a good example of truth and determination.
He spoke his truth. He was prepared to accept the consequences of his decisions and actions. He was in touch with his humanity during every chapter of his life. He embodied the dignity of the individual because he never lost sight of how he is connected to the fabric of life.
Understanding that greatness is not marked by trophies so much as by commitment is no small thing.
No small thing, indeed… to give up three years at the height of his career, millions of dollars ignored, volleys of scorn from menacing racists… a remarkable man of conscience.
I’ve zipped through Louisville a half dozen times without stopping. Will reconsider on next road trip in that direction. Good piece, Deb.