Pass Christian and Hattiesburg

Now that I've had a good night's sleep and a five hour nap the day before, I begin to think about the things I learned at Pass Christian.

Wendy told me about the new Pass Christian library.The previous library and all the books therein were destroyed by Hurricane Katrina.  For six years, the library was in a FEMA trailer until the government finally came through with the money to rebuild. They had to argue a bit to convince the city of what they really needed, like no carpeting!

This week the librarians were holding a book sale to raise money for a New Jersey library.  Bless their hearts!

The librarians were so good to me, and today I give them the thanks I was too tired to give in yesterday's blogs.

Before I left, Sally insisted on giving me money to eat a good lunch before I left Pass Christian, but as I drove down the beach road, I realized if I ate anything after that night of insomnia, I would fall asleep at the wheel despite the double cappuccino I had that morning and the result would be a car accident. I tucked the money away and went on to Harrisburg.

Today, I felt fine.

I began today with a breakfast at the Waffle House. I know that's a greasy spoon restaurant, but every time I come south I crave a pecan waffle, plus it was easier to go to the Waffle House, which is next door, to get my morning tea than to run to the Motel 6 office to heat water for tea and oatmeal. (That's my story.)

Next I consulted with the clerk to find out what there was to do in Hattiesburg.  She immediately suggested shopping, but shopping is one of the circles of Hell in my way of thinking. I told her I liked history.  I wanted to know where the history museum was.  She gave me instructions but one of the cleaning women told me that there was also an African American military history museum.  Now that sounded interesting.

I went down Hardy Street toward both museums but instead was drawn to a huge cemetery.  I love cemeteries. Within them lies the story of any city.  I walked through and found grave after grave that spoke of love, sorrow and tragedy.  Always sad are the graves of babies, especially when there are three or four. How did the mother cope?  I noted that there were no male deaths there during the Civil War which I suppose means the dead soldiers were buried at some battlefield and never made it home.

There are stories there and some may well wind up in Black Coffee Fiction. My story "Snow" started when  I visited a cemetery.  http:blackcoffeefiction.blogspot.com

While I was walking around the tombstones, I kept smelling something wonderful.  What was it?  But I drove on. I got to the downtown area but the cultural center was closed and I couldn't find the museum I wanted.  I went on the historical district because there were signs all over directing me to it but it was only old houses with no information about any of them.  I drove around a bit and wound up back at the cemetery.

Before I was quite there, I saw a family coming out of a fish establishment carrying bags.  I took a closer look and realized besides fresh fish they sold po-boys.  I pulled in beside the family and we got into a discussion about food.  They told me the po-boys were wonderful.  I took their advice to be polite (that's my story) and went in for lunch and got a catfish po-boy to go.   The cook told me the best way to get to the museum and I was off again.

The museum was closed.

With a sigh I went back down Hardy Street to the cemetery to eat my po-boy but found out there was a playground adjacent with a picnic table.  I ate my lunch then noticed across a field was a big building so I walked over to see what it was.

It was the Hattiesburg Public Library. Just know that this is one of the most amazing libraries I've been in and I've been in hundreds.  Outside, it is brick, but inside there are winding marble staircases.  There's a mural above the central part of the library that shows the history of the city.  There's a tower that one can climb to get a panoramic view of the city. I've never seen such a large staff and this on a Saturday afternoon.  There were so many computer stations I couldn't believe it.  The Mississippi room had books by every Mississippi writer of fiction and non-fiction. Somebody must have donated a heap of money.

On my way back to the motel I inadvertently went over Highway 49 and had to go to the Bop custard stand where I bought a two scoop Snapper Turtle Sundae. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

And that's how I spent the last of the money given to me at the Pass Christian library. I never did eat any supper.

Back on the Road.

Aging brings problems, usually minor aggravations.  I sleep well most of the time, but occasionally I get insomnia.  When I am home, I don't worry much about it. I get up, turn on some music and go to work writing.  Some of my best ideas come in the middle of the night.  If I'm tired I take a nap during the day.

Getting insomnia when I'm on the road is not so good.  Last night I never did get any sleep.  I had workshop at the Pass Christian Public Library so I loaded up with caffeine and set out early.  I drove down the Beach Road on the way there and took some photos for Gary who told me he wanted them on his 2014 calendar, the one I give him for Christmas.   

I decided the day before that what a good beach picture required was something green.

I also photographed Pirate's Cove, where one procures shrimp Po-boys.

Finally, at the library I did a brief workshop on my life on the internet, about finding work through e-mail and research, self-publishing books, and writing blogs like this one. 

I said good-bye to my friends at the wonderful Pass Christian library and started driving north.  At Hattiesburg the insomnia caught up with me.  I signed into this motel and at 3:00 pm climbed into bed for a brief nap. I woke up an hour ago.  

One of the joys of this blog is that I can edit it in the morning.  For now, it's back in bed to recuperate.  No performances for another two days. 

The Gulf of Mexico

This morning I finally had a chance to walk on the beach. I birded, I talked to other tourists (mostly retired Canadians, I breathed in the ocean endorphins, and wallowed in the sun. This is why I came down here. I have stopped taking St. John's wort these past few days.  When I return to Wisconsin, I'll only have another month of cold, dreary winter.

The piers have been rebuilt since Hurricane Katrina. Tey stretch far out into the bay. I on the farthest bench to bring my journal up to date.

A brown pelican was out there on a sandbar watching the water carefully.  I've been trying to remember when I last saw one. In Florida?  In get the white variety in Wisconsin.  

It was a day of exploring these Mississippi Gulf cities. I thought that some of the Super Bowl crowd would end up here but that doesn't seem to be the case. There are still signs of Katrina here and there. A Waffle House sign still hangs in  lot where once pecan waffles were served. A resort hotel still has a granite marker where the entrance was. Now it looks like a gravestone surrounded by ragged grass.  Everywhere there is property to sell.    

This afternoon I was on Biloxi's WLOK 4:00 O'Clock news show.  I've done these interviews before.  I get all gussied up, worry a bit then the whole thing is done in three minutes and that's the way it went.  I talked about my storytelling at the Pass Christian public library then moved on.  

Then I drove along the beach road, the highway that runs along the gulf, filling my soul as I watched the sun setting in front of me, so bright it was difficult to see the signs.  The road took me to the Pass Christian and I pulled off to take another look at the map and there the library was.  Zen driving worked once gain.

Wendy Allard greeted me warmly'  She's a Wisconsin native and we talked about places we both know. She insisted I go to Pirate's Cove for a shrimp po-boy.  If there is one thing that would make Gary jealous it would be that po-boy.  He's been talking about it since I began planning the trip.  It was delicious indeed.

Next, a performance of stories and songs to a very appreciative audience.They wanted humor and I gave it to them. Tomorrow I'll be back to talk about my life on the internet. 

I'm at the halfway point.  Tomorrow I turn my face north to Wisconsin and home.

What a day!

I woke up to find the wind over and only puddles to show the wild storm during the night. I heard about it from the people around Grenada.  There had been problems with electricity.  I had to go to a second gas station to find one with working pumps.

I am discovering that mapquest.com has improved maps, and the directions aren't bad, but the time to a destination is way off, usually by at least an hour...and I have a lead foot when I drive.

Today, I gave myself five hours to get to Hattiesburg in time for a performance.I took one ten minute detour to Holmes State Park where I had thought of staying the night before, but storms made that impossible.  It looks like a charming park and only $13 a night for us elderly campers.  I picked up more information in case I ever get back and hit the road again.

After three hours of driving, I  saw the sign for Hattiesburg, 83 miles away. I had to skip stopping at Jackson to see Eudora Welty's house. She was a great short story writer, so I hated missing that.  Maybe on my way back up north.

I arrived just in a nick of time for my first performance in Mississippi.  Only four states to go.

It was a senior residence and the folks I told were with me every step of the way, laughing in all the right places and singing with me. One of the best performances yet.

Then I scurried away to try to get to my campground in time, making great time since everyone else was exceeding the speed limit, too.  I even got to the campground before the sun set, but there were trees down and the place was locked up.  Darn.  No camping tonight.

I went on to a McDonalds and checked out the Motel 6 website. It was getting too dark to find a campsite and set it up.  I would do that tomorrow.  I found a reasonable motel on the beach in Biloxi. It's new, built after Hurricane Katrina.

Here I am, right on the Gulf.  Tomorrow, I'll walk on the beach and see about finding another campground that is open.

One last thing.  When I arrived an older couple were at the back door. He seemed to have some kind of video recorder with him.  The fellow yelled at the woman I assumed was his wife, and then started in on me for not holding the door for him the right way.  I just figured he was tired from a long drive and thought no more about it. They went into a room two doors from mine.

About an hour ago I came upstairs from another trip down to my car.  Two policemen were at that couple's  door, guns drawn. They yelled then went in.  I stopped dead in my tracks and stayed down the hall, waiting and wondering what I should do, go on to my room, or skedaddle back downstairs. My curiosity kept me there. The police came out and saw me.

"Did you hear them arguing?" one of them asked.

"No."  The walls are well insulated here.

"Someone in there called 911.  But they packed up and left."

So now I wonder what all that was about.  I'm sure a short story will come out of it.

Mississippi Tour - Day 6 - In the South

Soon after I left Sikeston this morning, I was in New Madrid the site of the Midwest's biggest and most disastrous earthquake. I stopped to check out the museum, but there wasn't any shaking going on.  Soon after I crossed the Missouri into Tennessee.

Though I like the South in many ways, it is foreign to me in others.

It comes through first on the radio.  I don't have a CD or tape player in my old car, so I depend on the radio.  The farther south I go, the more religious stations dominate and fewer the public radio programs.  It seems to be a ten to one ratio. Once I finally locate a public radio it is only good for half an hour then I must go back to seek-and-scan, trying to find something worth listening to

When I am stuck on a religious station, I hear what Jesus thinks on any subject from homosexuality to the Internet.  In the south Jesus is pronounced JAY-zus, with the first syllable almost yelled in emphasis.  JAY-zus disapproves of almost anybody or anything, it seems.

There are churches everywhere and seem to not get along all that well.  One Baptist church is on the opposite side of the road to another.  What could they disagree about?  Though I expect the difference between the Macedonia Baptist Church and the First Baptist Church is a matter of complexion. There are many of those churches.

But there are also "adult toy" businesses just outside many of the towns with peep shows and nude dancers, more than I've ever seen anywhere else.

When I buy groceries, I  listen to the conversations around me.  By the time I crossed the Missouri River into Tennessee, one syllable words, suddenly added another. "Red" became "ray-ed".

The southern drawl becomes more pronounced as I go deeper into the South and it is catching.  When I bought gas in Covington, Tennessee, the clerk told me she had moved from Chicago six months before.  She already had the drawl.  By the time I get back to Wisconsin I'll have caught the accent, too.

One thing of interest:  Tennessee and Mississippi have the most stylish and beautiful welcome centers I've ever seen, much nicer than those in Wisconsin and Illinois.

Tonight I am in Grenada, Mississippi.  With temperatures in the 70s in this unusual January, the conditions are right and I sit in the motel room watching the forecasters interrupt television programs to talk about the tornado watch.  Nothing disastrous here, but the high winds are knocking out the Internet connection.

Tomorrow:  Hattiesburg and on to the Gulf.

Mississippi Bound - Day 5 Illinois to Missouri

I don't like long days of driving. In my younger days, I drove eleven or twelve hours a day, but these days, I think seven hours are enough.  

When I planned this day, I figured on taking H. 55 past Springfield, through St. Louis and along the Missouri River to Sikeston, Missouri.  Gary said it would be better to go east to Highway 39 and working south on Highway 39 on down to Sikeston on Highway 57.  He said I would avoid city traffic that way. 

I followed his advice. I took along a camera so I could take photos of the scenery. It didn't work out that way.  From the time I left the farmhouse until 4:30 pm, Illinois was covered with fog. I could see  a few yards from the Interstate, but that was it.  My view was of the backs of semi trailers and of drivers going far too fast for conditions. I was pleased I didn't choose to drive through St. Louis.  On a sunny day, I have no problems with cities, but in the fog, I would have made more than one wrong turn.   

At 4:30, I was at Effingdon and still had a long way to go. I had only about an hour before sunset and all I was passing was flat farm land. By the time I was passing through the Shawanee National Forest, with its rock escarpment and vast spread of trees, the sun had set and all I had were shadowy outlines of trees. No photo ops there. 

It took me 8-1/2 hours of hard driving to get to this motel in Sikeston.  I figure on being in bed by 9:00.

Tomorrow is going to be a warm day with a minimum of driving....I hope. Tomorrow it's Tennessee then Mississippi. 

 

Mississippi Bound - Day 4 - a Process

Last full day in Dixon with Gary. The sleet is  beginning, though three hours later than we expected it.  The plan is to stay here in the farmhouse eating ourselves sick on rocky road ice cream.

Tomorrow morning, I'll leave, driving a mile and a half  down Plock Road to get to the interstate, which should be cleared. By 5:00 p.m. I should be in Sikeston, Missouri.

So, as I sit here waiting, I thought I would write about my process of writing a short story for Black Coffee Fiction.

The first thing you have to know is that almost all of my stories evolve out my experiences to create entirely new stories. I've had a lifetime of experiences.

This past week, I was too busy getting ready for the trip to sit down and write, yet I had to have a story ready by 4:00 p.m.on Friday.  I had a story outlined and in my mind,  but it takes place on Mother's Day.  I thought I would rather save it for May, but at the moment I had nothing more.  As I drove to Dixon on Thursday, I worked on the details of that story, firming it up in my mind.  I would write it on Friday morning.

I woke up around 5:00 a.m. here in the farmhouse, and let my mind wander.  I thought about our partner at Black Coffee Fiction, Betty, who lies in Colorado. My mind wandered as I thought about the places I've visited in Colorado and settled my mind on an old cemetery east of Boulder. It was really old, with tombs dating back to the 1800's.  There were prairie dogs all over the place, burrowing through the graves.

Then my mind went to the time Gary and I planted my mother's old cat next to her grave.

And then I thought about Gary's Aunt Shirley pushing a walker and wanting to die. I thought about other patients in the nursing home with their oxygen packs, gasping for breath.

A new story began to form in my mind.  I got out of bed, went to my laptop computer and began to type.  In an hour I had the story I posted that afternoon.  I sent it out with very few edits.

One reason I go out on tours is to save up more memories.  They are all there, in the back of my mind, to seep out as new stories.

http://blackcoffeefiction.blogspot.com