Holed up in Oxford once for 9 months. This guy Lee Durkee wrote this really good novel "The Last Taxi Driver" about his time there. Better than Faulkner by a country mile.
Loved this! I was also enchanted by the blues. You described its magic so well. I loved hearing about your visit to these places, as they’re so far away, they are almost mythical to me. When I was in high school, my parents took me to the BB King Blues Club in NYC when we were on a trip. I didn’t want to go and was being a typical teenager. We went to see Buddy Guy there. I was not interested because I didn’t know who he was and never heard him. My dad said that my jaw dropped the minute he started playing, and I was completely and totally mesmerized. That was my real introduction to the blues, specifically the insane beauty of blues guitar. There is nothing like it. My dad showed me Robert Johnson when I was in college a few years later and I fell in love. I do think once you love the blues it stays with you forever. This was a fascinating read. Robert Johnson’s life, and its tragic and mysterious end are so entangled in myth, he is an endlessly captivating figure. I would love to go to these places some day and lay flowers at his grave.
it was like freeing and speaking my very thoughts and passions. The blues have always touched and affected me the same. what a skillful, beautiful and passionate expression.
I first became interested in the Blues when I looked at some of my older brother's records in the '60s. Many songs were written by people like Robert Johnson, John Lee Hooker, and McKinley Morganfield (Muddy Waters). Of course, I had no idea who these people were.
Muddy Waters said, "The blues had a baby, and they named it rock and roll." This holds true for the Delta Blues, but not as much for the Piedmont Blues, which has a lighter feel and is influenced by ragtime and fingerpicking techniques.
love the blues! Thanks for writing on your journey to Robert Johnson. Yes, if ever there was an example of transmuting pain to beauty. Hardship to gold.
Wow. You’re in my territory now! Howlin’ Wolf was born in my town. I have Dylan’s song “Mississippi” on my playlist for this summer. I’m so glad you visited this state, especially the Delta. And great writing. :)
I went down to MS, to the Delta for the 50th Anniversary of Freedom Summer. I went to the spot where the three civil rights workers were murdered. I went to Edgar Medgar's home, to the Mt. Zion Church. I was able to visit with people in their homes and talk about those years and I heard that the fear hasn't been erased. I also went to the Blues Museum. How could I not. The Delta is haunting. This was a wonderful description.
I played a gig at the Shack Up Inn. The stage sat literally on top of an old cotton gin and we slept in tiny former slave cottages. Super creepy vibes from that night.
Great writing. I never knew why The Catcher in the Rye struck a chord with me in my young teens, or I why it remained one of the most important reads of my entire life. I was close to 40 years old when I realized it was my need for authenticity, my need to push the phony out of my line of sight in order to see the real. If you had been writing back then, I would have figured this out a lot quicker.
I was born in Meridian, Mississippi in 1970 and spent the better part of my summers between there and Dekalb visiting with my 2 different sides of the family. Dekalb was a typical small Southern town with a small yet thriving Main Street and its own Sunflower and hospital. There was one church per denomination in town, except for not a single Catholic Church. This was the South after all and this was not Louisiana.
There were only a handful of houses that were opulent and carefully put together in the way that only Southern women of a certain status can do. These were the places that were the homes that the town put on display in their most prominent public places. So that when people drove through perhaps on their way to somewhere else, this raw beauty meets Southern charm is what they’ll see and what they’ll take away as their perception of the town. I’ve got to stop there on my way back, they’d say. But Then, thes raw, and most interesting place to be were the shanties and shacks with their nasty front porches, front doors wide open with only the damaged screens to protect them from the flies and other insects. There was no sense trying to get away from the misery of the mosquitoes. This is Mississippi in the Summer after all. I would imagine how dusty and grimy it must have been in those tiny run down houses that we had to drive down long dirt driveways- red clay like under eveything else in this part of Mississippi. Moving at a snail’s pace to avoid the pot holes and bad places along the way. The only reason Ali was even allowed to know this place existed was because I had to ride with my grandmother was because I would have to go with her sometimes to take Viola, who cooked and cleaned and took care of me while my grandmother was at work home. This was the only interaction I was allowed with any “people of color”. Back in those days and even now to some extent, in the small towns of Mississppi, there are the the rural people living much the same as those rural-dwelling people of the past. Difference is, the people had had access to the same education as those living with more wealth. But it’s more complicated than that as is everything when you are curious about life and open your eyes to attempt to find the truth in everything.
So those mostly white “rednecks” live in a world of filth and disrepair. As I’ve said, they had the same access to a proper education as everyone else in their community.
But did they really? What if there were intergenerational factors at play? How would their family’s attitude about education in general, affect their learning? Learning and growth were something to be suspicious of and avoided.
Many of these poor children only went to school because the truancy officers would come to their “houses” and trailers to collect them, warning their parents that they could go to jail if the child kept missing school.
So we say that these communities, these shared family systems were counter productive to the educators’ efforts were unsuccessful and thwarted at every turn. And so who’s a child going to be more influenced by? Their parents of course.
And perhaps their parents didn’t preach against it, but created such an unpredictable, abusive, and chaotic environment that a child simply couldn’t understand on the level that we as adults can. So they had a hard time focusing on their work and couldn’t focus on or understand anything they were being taught. And they grew up only to associate going to school with confusion and failure. When they grew to adulthood, this unfortunate orientation is what they passed to their offspring, beginning a pattern that often lasted for many, many generations. Thus,the whole cycle repeats itself ad infinitum.
My point in this long diatribe being that the reason why so many of these folks live the way they do is their home lives and lack of the kind of suport it takes from one’s family and community to help them be successful at anything of value as far as being able to pull themselves out of their situation and break the cycle. Improving their lives and the ones of generations to come. So in a way, they had the same access, but they didn’t have the same support.
So you see the difference between these people and the Black population of the past are not the same at all. Many of them had to leave school to work or take care of younger sibling so their parents could parents could work and provide what little they had. They were paid far less than their white counterparts, taken advantage of, and overworked. And even when the children were allowed to go to school, the schools were segregated and unequal. They were did not have access to the same quality of education as the white kids in the town and were separated from any opportunities for interaction with individuals of another culture and way of life.
But in modern day in Mississippi, is different in many places. Especially the bigger “cities” and the small towns who have embraced diversity as a way of church. Now, don’t get me wrong, there’s still a right side and wrong side of the tracks and Black people and white people tend to live among their own “people”, but the minority population wins elections and secure positions of service and power in these small town communities and only within the last 20 years have many of the churches been integrated. But the minority population is making large gains in the area of employment often holding top level positions.
No, this shouldn’t be a big deal, but based on the history and struggles of the past, it is. And I would be remiss if I didn’t compare the strides that have been made. Mississippi is by no means perfect but it is steeped in story with a richness that awakens the heart and is felt on a soul level. It is a beautiful state from the ancient, overgrown trees of the Natchez Trace to the white sand beaches on the Gulf. And the architecture and the art and the music. Oh, the music.
So I understand why the author was so deeply affected by his visit there. I have wanted to make a documentary about my Mississippi for a long time, the way I see it in all its beauty and the ways in which it makes itself an unbenounced sinner. But I’m afraid I’ve waited too long. Most of the population who lived through those days of the long ago past have passed on by now and all that is left are a few photographs and perhaps some personal journals that weee left behind. And unless you’re Ken Burns, you can’t make a documentary without people. The lesson being, if there’s something calling out to you, a longing that’s been placed in your soul, do it then. Don’t wait because if you do, your window of opportunity may just pass you by.
What wonderful storytelling; I was right there with you, seeing and hearing the musical legacy. Thank you.
Holed up in Oxford once for 9 months. This guy Lee Durkee wrote this really good novel "The Last Taxi Driver" about his time there. Better than Faulkner by a country mile.
I know Lee. He’s hilarious.
Thanks for the tip. I just ordered it.
Loved this! I was also enchanted by the blues. You described its magic so well. I loved hearing about your visit to these places, as they’re so far away, they are almost mythical to me. When I was in high school, my parents took me to the BB King Blues Club in NYC when we were on a trip. I didn’t want to go and was being a typical teenager. We went to see Buddy Guy there. I was not interested because I didn’t know who he was and never heard him. My dad said that my jaw dropped the minute he started playing, and I was completely and totally mesmerized. That was my real introduction to the blues, specifically the insane beauty of blues guitar. There is nothing like it. My dad showed me Robert Johnson when I was in college a few years later and I fell in love. I do think once you love the blues it stays with you forever. This was a fascinating read. Robert Johnson’s life, and its tragic and mysterious end are so entangled in myth, he is an endlessly captivating figure. I would love to go to these places some day and lay flowers at his grave.
Another great piece of writing. Always enjoy your work. God I love Robert Johnson’s music.
Thank you!
I have spent lots of time in MS. Blues also cast a spell on me (as a teenager) that will never leave me. Blues is the truth.
it was like freeing and speaking my very thoughts and passions. The blues have always touched and affected me the same. what a skillful, beautiful and passionate expression.
thank you for the opportunity to revisit.
Thank you for the great story.
I first became interested in the Blues when I looked at some of my older brother's records in the '60s. Many songs were written by people like Robert Johnson, John Lee Hooker, and McKinley Morganfield (Muddy Waters). Of course, I had no idea who these people were.
Muddy Waters said, "The blues had a baby, and they named it rock and roll." This holds true for the Delta Blues, but not as much for the Piedmont Blues, which has a lighter feel and is influenced by ragtime and fingerpicking techniques.
It pains me that he died so young but I'm so grateful he became a legend and we can hear him still.
love the blues! Thanks for writing on your journey to Robert Johnson. Yes, if ever there was an example of transmuting pain to beauty. Hardship to gold.
Wow. You’re in my territory now! Howlin’ Wolf was born in my town. I have Dylan’s song “Mississippi” on my playlist for this summer. I’m so glad you visited this state, especially the Delta. And great writing. :)
I feel a road trip in the air...
I went down to MS, to the Delta for the 50th Anniversary of Freedom Summer. I went to the spot where the three civil rights workers were murdered. I went to Edgar Medgar's home, to the Mt. Zion Church. I was able to visit with people in their homes and talk about those years and I heard that the fear hasn't been erased. I also went to the Blues Museum. How could I not. The Delta is haunting. This was a wonderful description.
I played a gig at the Shack Up Inn. The stage sat literally on top of an old cotton gin and we slept in tiny former slave cottages. Super creepy vibes from that night.
A great read,
The Deepest South of All.
By Richard Grant
Great writing. I never knew why The Catcher in the Rye struck a chord with me in my young teens, or I why it remained one of the most important reads of my entire life. I was close to 40 years old when I realized it was my need for authenticity, my need to push the phony out of my line of sight in order to see the real. If you had been writing back then, I would have figured this out a lot quicker.
I was born in Meridian, Mississippi in 1970 and spent the better part of my summers between there and Dekalb visiting with my 2 different sides of the family. Dekalb was a typical small Southern town with a small yet thriving Main Street and its own Sunflower and hospital. There was one church per denomination in town, except for not a single Catholic Church. This was the South after all and this was not Louisiana.
There were only a handful of houses that were opulent and carefully put together in the way that only Southern women of a certain status can do. These were the places that were the homes that the town put on display in their most prominent public places. So that when people drove through perhaps on their way to somewhere else, this raw beauty meets Southern charm is what they’ll see and what they’ll take away as their perception of the town. I’ve got to stop there on my way back, they’d say. But Then, thes raw, and most interesting place to be were the shanties and shacks with their nasty front porches, front doors wide open with only the damaged screens to protect them from the flies and other insects. There was no sense trying to get away from the misery of the mosquitoes. This is Mississippi in the Summer after all. I would imagine how dusty and grimy it must have been in those tiny run down houses that we had to drive down long dirt driveways- red clay like under eveything else in this part of Mississippi. Moving at a snail’s pace to avoid the pot holes and bad places along the way. The only reason Ali was even allowed to know this place existed was because I had to ride with my grandmother was because I would have to go with her sometimes to take Viola, who cooked and cleaned and took care of me while my grandmother was at work home. This was the only interaction I was allowed with any “people of color”. Back in those days and even now to some extent, in the small towns of Mississppi, there are the the rural people living much the same as those rural-dwelling people of the past. Difference is, the people had had access to the same education as those living with more wealth. But it’s more complicated than that as is everything when you are curious about life and open your eyes to attempt to find the truth in everything.
So those mostly white “rednecks” live in a world of filth and disrepair. As I’ve said, they had the same access to a proper education as everyone else in their community.
But did they really? What if there were intergenerational factors at play? How would their family’s attitude about education in general, affect their learning? Learning and growth were something to be suspicious of and avoided.
Many of these poor children only went to school because the truancy officers would come to their “houses” and trailers to collect them, warning their parents that they could go to jail if the child kept missing school.
So we say that these communities, these shared family systems were counter productive to the educators’ efforts were unsuccessful and thwarted at every turn. And so who’s a child going to be more influenced by? Their parents of course.
And perhaps their parents didn’t preach against it, but created such an unpredictable, abusive, and chaotic environment that a child simply couldn’t understand on the level that we as adults can. So they had a hard time focusing on their work and couldn’t focus on or understand anything they were being taught. And they grew up only to associate going to school with confusion and failure. When they grew to adulthood, this unfortunate orientation is what they passed to their offspring, beginning a pattern that often lasted for many, many generations. Thus,the whole cycle repeats itself ad infinitum.
My point in this long diatribe being that the reason why so many of these folks live the way they do is their home lives and lack of the kind of suport it takes from one’s family and community to help them be successful at anything of value as far as being able to pull themselves out of their situation and break the cycle. Improving their lives and the ones of generations to come. So in a way, they had the same access, but they didn’t have the same support.
So you see the difference between these people and the Black population of the past are not the same at all. Many of them had to leave school to work or take care of younger sibling so their parents could parents could work and provide what little they had. They were paid far less than their white counterparts, taken advantage of, and overworked. And even when the children were allowed to go to school, the schools were segregated and unequal. They were did not have access to the same quality of education as the white kids in the town and were separated from any opportunities for interaction with individuals of another culture and way of life.
But in modern day in Mississippi, is different in many places. Especially the bigger “cities” and the small towns who have embraced diversity as a way of church. Now, don’t get me wrong, there’s still a right side and wrong side of the tracks and Black people and white people tend to live among their own “people”, but the minority population wins elections and secure positions of service and power in these small town communities and only within the last 20 years have many of the churches been integrated. But the minority population is making large gains in the area of employment often holding top level positions.
No, this shouldn’t be a big deal, but based on the history and struggles of the past, it is. And I would be remiss if I didn’t compare the strides that have been made. Mississippi is by no means perfect but it is steeped in story with a richness that awakens the heart and is felt on a soul level. It is a beautiful state from the ancient, overgrown trees of the Natchez Trace to the white sand beaches on the Gulf. And the architecture and the art and the music. Oh, the music.
So I understand why the author was so deeply affected by his visit there. I have wanted to make a documentary about my Mississippi for a long time, the way I see it in all its beauty and the ways in which it makes itself an unbenounced sinner. But I’m afraid I’ve waited too long. Most of the population who lived through those days of the long ago past have passed on by now and all that is left are a few photographs and perhaps some personal journals that weee left behind. And unless you’re Ken Burns, you can’t make a documentary without people. The lesson being, if there’s something calling out to you, a longing that’s been placed in your soul, do it then. Don’t wait because if you do, your window of opportunity may just pass you by.