Today, I drove through Oxford on my way to New Albany, Mississippi. I started early because I wanted to check out Old Miss. I wandered around the campus a bit but didn't feel the Civil Rights Era. It felt like any other campus to me.
I went to the Old Miss museum to see what the curators had on the era, but the museum was closed. I had forgotten that museums are almost always closed on Sundays and Mondays. This was upsetting because nature was calling and I sure could use a restroom.
I noticed a sign for a trail and took a closer look. The sign said that the trail through Bailey's Woods led to Ronan Oaks, which of course was William Faulkner's home. I took off down the trail and though I had to climb up and down gullies, I did indeed come to the parking lot of Ronan Oaks. I was all alone so I walked around the property.
Faulkner's house, an 1844 mansion on 29 acres, was certainly fancier than Eudora Welty's home in Jackson, but I thought hers looked more comfortable.
Still, it does look like the kind of house one would write "A Rose for Emily", one of the most depressing short stories I've ever read.
Those twenty nine acres came in handy. Faulkner's house was closed on Monday, too, and nature was still calling. I walked back into Bailey's woods and found a secluded spot.
Next, a nursing home performance in New Albany with some hilarious seniors. They all loved to hear about Gary's great aunt Alice and her boyfriend. Every one of my venues has been successful so far. They all want me to come back.
But now I am on the home stretch. The next two days will be brutal, performances and long driving stretches. Early to bed.
I went to the Old Miss museum to see what the curators had on the era, but the museum was closed. I had forgotten that museums are almost always closed on Sundays and Mondays. This was upsetting because nature was calling and I sure could use a restroom.
I noticed a sign for a trail and took a closer look. The sign said that the trail through Bailey's Woods led to Ronan Oaks, which of course was William Faulkner's home. I took off down the trail and though I had to climb up and down gullies, I did indeed come to the parking lot of Ronan Oaks. I was all alone so I walked around the property.
Faulkner's house, an 1844 mansion on 29 acres, was certainly fancier than Eudora Welty's home in Jackson, but I thought hers looked more comfortable.
Those twenty nine acres came in handy. Faulkner's house was closed on Monday, too, and nature was still calling. I walked back into Bailey's woods and found a secluded spot.
Next, a nursing home performance in New Albany with some hilarious seniors. They all loved to hear about Gary's great aunt Alice and her boyfriend. Every one of my venues has been successful so far. They all want me to come back.
But now I am on the home stretch. The next two days will be brutal, performances and long driving stretches. Early to bed.
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