As I am beginning a new life in the Mississippi Delta, I was reminded of how insulted I was when a columnist in the Commercial Appeal suggested it was just time to give up on the Delta and "move the people to a place where they could be helped". There are so many things wrong with this statement..moving people..helping them (as if we want to be moved or need "their" help) that I could not even bring myself to deal with them all, but I had to voice my support for the Delta even back in 2009. I am not sure opinion has changed much since then, so those of us that care, need to still be vigilant and make the case for why the Delta matters! Here is my letter to the editor from November 22, 2009.
"In your Nov. 8, 2009 Viewpoint article "Bluer blues / Grim figures tell of region on the ropes," economist David Ciscel said, "It's probably time to recognize that economic development in many rural counties is hopeless. Yes, we should care about the Delta, but we should not try to improve it any longer. It is time to move the people to a place where they can be helped."
I guess that means we just turn out the lights, lock the gates and wave goodbye on our way out of town. After all, to an economist, it is "irrational" for people to be living in the Delta anyway. Since they are "irrational," we have to step up and help them. It is our duty. This is what Ciscel seems to be saying, and I find it totally unacceptable.
First, I can't imagine that the lights would be out for long. Someone would design a way to make the Delta productive; its land and resources are too valuable to leave fallow. But the people who had sweated for generations over it would be gone and it would be new investors who would profit. Maybe that's the plan.
Perhaps the problem is that we have been looking to 20th century solutions for the Delta. Little to no new manufacturing is being developed anywhere in the U.S., so why do we think it is the solution in the Delta?
What about micro-loans for new small businesses? What about continued efforts to bring needed 21st century infrastructure, such as Internet, cable and wireless communications, so new business models could work in the Delta? What about creating a spoke-and-hub system, capitalizing on areas that can become regional centers of growth and opportunity to feed the Delta's more remote rural areas?
My Delta grandfather always told me that our land in Louise, Miss., was holding the world together. If it weren't there, our world would fall apart. My child's mind could so easily picture that; it made perfect sense to me then and does to this day. The Delta is indeed important, and to suggest we just walk away from it is not an alternative.
Cristie Upshaw Travis
Memphis
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Taking Time
I took my time on my last trip down into the Delta. A lot of time. For the first time, I spent 3 nights and had 2 full days at my little cottage. With so much time came new experiences and perspectives.
One of my goals in having my own place in the Delta was to really live there. I know that is not totally possible as my home is still in Memphis and, at least for awhile, I will be a visitor, although perhaps a frequent one. But living somewhere does require a commitment that just being a visitor does not require. For example:
When you live somewhere, you get to know your neighbors. My new next door neighbor dropped by one afternoon just to introduce herself. I was on a business call and could not spend time with her, but I thought about the hospitality she showed me, a total stranger, even though I wouldn't be there full time. I knocked on her door the morning I left, hoping to return her kindness, but she was not at home. I must be sure and reach out to her next time I am there.
When you live somewhere, you support local events. As luck would have it, a new friend of mine had an extra ticket to "Mont Helena: A Dream Revisited" and asked me to go with her, her husband and her mother. It was a wonderful, very professional performance in the very house where the main characters had lived, loved and died. There is no better way to bring a house to life than to know the family that made it a home. An added benefit of attending was meeting so many people! My hostess graciously introduced me to literally everyone and they were all so welcoming. I hope they will forgive me if I don't remember all their names!
When you live somewhere, you become involved. I already feel myself being drawn into the community. It started with a joke (well, at least I think it was a joke since it was followed by LOL) about volunteering at "A Dream Revisited" next year. I started to think about it and decided to take the offer up and suggest that perhaps there was a way to get involved at the fall festival. That's all it took, someone invited me and I said yes, and the opportunities are flowing in, including one to meet the hospital administrator in town to explore how I may be supportive.
When you live somewhere, you take the time to explore. I found myself half-way to Yazoo City one day so decided, what the heck, just go all the way there. I had not been to see Daddy since January and thought a trip to Glenwood Cemetery on a sky blue day would be a nice outing. Once there I did my usual thing, but because I had time, I noticed things I had never paid attention to before. I noticed that my great-grandfather, the first Jefferson Davis Upshaw, was born in May, 1861. That was just one month after the beginning of The Civil War (or The War, as we call it around here). I cannot even imagine what his parents were feeling with his birth -- the joy of new life and the fear of war and death.
I also noticed a small American flag planted in the ground near a group of graves. I strolled to the spot and was surprised to find a mass grave of 700-800 unknown Confederate soldiers who fought to protect Yazoo City at the Battle of Benton Road. What a loss it was for them, their families, their community. Every life is precious and losing so many at one time reminds us how bloody that war was for our country. As we recognize the 150th anniversary of the start of the Civil War this very month, we should remember that nothing has compared to it since in U.S. history.
When you live somewhere, you take what comes. Finally, I rode out my first tornado weather on this last trip to the Delta. Thank God I had so many enjoyable experiences on this trip because I needed them to make up for the rain, wind, hail and tornadoes! It was definitely un-nerving and perhaps scary, but my little cottage and I made it through unscathed. So, I have my first weather battle scar. I hope it is the only one I get, but I doubt that will be true.
I am so glad I took the time to get to know some of the people and places of the Delta. It is, I realize now, a journey I will be on all year. But the more time I take, the deeper into the fabric of the area I will go, and I think that is what having a place there was all about any way.
One of my goals in having my own place in the Delta was to really live there. I know that is not totally possible as my home is still in Memphis and, at least for awhile, I will be a visitor, although perhaps a frequent one. But living somewhere does require a commitment that just being a visitor does not require. For example:
When you live somewhere, you get to know your neighbors. My new next door neighbor dropped by one afternoon just to introduce herself. I was on a business call and could not spend time with her, but I thought about the hospitality she showed me, a total stranger, even though I wouldn't be there full time. I knocked on her door the morning I left, hoping to return her kindness, but she was not at home. I must be sure and reach out to her next time I am there.
 |
| Mont Helena goes dark during "A Dream Revisited" |
When you live somewhere, you become involved. I already feel myself being drawn into the community. It started with a joke (well, at least I think it was a joke since it was followed by LOL) about volunteering at "A Dream Revisited" next year. I started to think about it and decided to take the offer up and suggest that perhaps there was a way to get involved at the fall festival. That's all it took, someone invited me and I said yes, and the opportunities are flowing in, including one to meet the hospital administrator in town to explore how I may be supportive.
 |
| My Great-Grandfather, the first of 5 Jefferson Davis Upshaws |
 |
| A mass grave of 700-800 Confederate soldiers in Glenwood Cemetery |
When you live somewhere, you take what comes. Finally, I rode out my first tornado weather on this last trip to the Delta. Thank God I had so many enjoyable experiences on this trip because I needed them to make up for the rain, wind, hail and tornadoes! It was definitely un-nerving and perhaps scary, but my little cottage and I made it through unscathed. So, I have my first weather battle scar. I hope it is the only one I get, but I doubt that will be true.
I am so glad I took the time to get to know some of the people and places of the Delta. It is, I realize now, a journey I will be on all year. But the more time I take, the deeper into the fabric of the area I will go, and I think that is what having a place there was all about any way.
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Figuring It Out
I've never had a second home. Many of my friends have lake houses; some have beach houses or condos; a few have hunting camps; one has a house in east Memphis and a condo in downtown Memphis.
These are the traditional second homes --- well, maybe not the condo in downtown Memphis. I have had to explain many times why I have a second home in the Delta. It's not traditional; it's not usual. My home is not on a lake filled with canoes, boats, skiers, sun worshipers. It is not a hunting lodge where you end a long day of solitude, cold, and wet with a hearty meal shared with fellow hunters. It is not a cool refuge offering a cold drink after a hot day on the beach,. So what is it?
Given this is my first weekend, I don't know yet. I am still trying to figure it out.
There are some things that are easy:
Finally, I am beginning to explore the cypress swamps and creeks of my own backyard and they are just as beautiful as the ones I have already found in other parts of the Delta. I continue to be amazed that the Delta is filled with beautiful land and beautiful people. But, I knew that already. I didn't have to figure that out!
These are the traditional second homes --- well, maybe not the condo in downtown Memphis. I have had to explain many times why I have a second home in the Delta. It's not traditional; it's not usual. My home is not on a lake filled with canoes, boats, skiers, sun worshipers. It is not a hunting lodge where you end a long day of solitude, cold, and wet with a hearty meal shared with fellow hunters. It is not a cool refuge offering a cold drink after a hot day on the beach,. So what is it?
Given this is my first weekend, I don't know yet. I am still trying to figure it out.
There are some things that are easy:
- Now I know that the grocery stores are closed on Sundays. Note to self, be sure you have everything for Sunday supper by Saturday night!
- I learned last night (Saturday) that the Delta stays up really late! And, they love to party! It seems that Friday was pay day and with money in their pockets, they rocked until the wee hours of the morning.
- I was reminded this weekend, that everyone pretty much knows where you are and what you are doing in the Delta. No hiding. No sneaking through town on a back road hoping no one will know you were there. Having a red car doesn't help me in that regard either!
- I learned that although small, the congregation at Louise Methodist Church is dedicated and steadfast -- with a prayer list that is 5 times the number that attend regularly and loving volunteers that keep the church and its grounds spotless and beautiful. No paid staff here!
- I experienced a church service where there was a real conversation between the preacher and congregation and the congregation with each other. There were announcements and celebrations of victorious baseball tournaments: people were added to or taken off the prayer list. It was a congregation that knew each other and used worship time to be there for each other. I sat in my Pa's place on the second pew on the left..I could almost feel his presence.
- I figured out that there is a great divide between HWY 61 and HWY 49. In my summers in Louise, on HWY 49, we never oriented west toward 61..we always went east to Yazoo City and south to Jackson. I know that my family is disappointed that I am not in Louise, I am disappointed too. But the opportunity was here in Rolling Fork and I took it. So, now I get to explore and appreciate HWY 61. But it will never be HWY 49! That will always be home to me.
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| Delta egret near my 5-Mile Farm, Louise, MS |
Friday, March 25, 2011
Waking Up
I love the idea of "working" in the Delta. Now that I have my place in Rolling Fork, I can imagine going down on a Friday morning or even a Thursday evening and working from the cottage on the internet (yes, even in Rolling Fork we have internet) and cell phone (yes, even in Rolling Fork, we have AT&T coverage). After all, a lot of what I do is talk to people, either on the phone or on email, Facebook, or Twitter! Or I am researching on the internet or creating documents on my computer. I can do that down in the Delta as easily as from Memphis!
But today, I had a real reason to work in the Delta. I had an appointment in Clarksdale, MS, so I headed south from Memphis after a morning meeting, having already plotted my path...Memphis to Tunica..have a late breakfast at the Blue & White on Highway 61...stop by to see if the eagles were still nesting and if "my" cypress swamp had changed with the seasons...take Old Highway 61 through Lula to Clarksdale...and find my way to my meeting.
What I didn't expect was how busy the Delta would be today. Just two weeks ago, there was no action in the fields. All was quiet and peaceful..no action for miles. But today, the Delta was a buzz.
I could smell the fresh, turned up dirt in the fields. I could see the dust thrown up by the trucks, tractors, and other farm equipment making their way down dirt rows or tilling new rows to ready them for planting. Even the yellow crop dusters were flying about. Every now and then, some piece of farm equipment blocked the road and slowed me down. But for some reason, I didn't mind...it just meant I could spend a little more time enjoying the moment.
I made several bat turns to go back to take a picture of a tractor tilling the land. I am sure the guys driving those tractors wondered why a middle-aged woman in a red Toyota Camry Hybrid was so interested in their work??? I mean, if you live in the Delta all the time, this is just normal activity. No big deal.
There is a cycle to farming. You till; you plant; you water; you harvest; you store; you sell; and then you start all over again. But for a city girl, there is just something about the dirt, the dust, the physical labor of it all. Something that just yells, "I am really working". This is not whimpy work; not virtual work through email, conference calls, Facebook or Twitter. This is get your hands dirty work!
My grandfather, Pa, knew this type of work. He, with the help of others, literally cleared his Delta land by hand. I have been told he used the "deadening" method of girdling the trees (cutting a band around the trunk), which, over about two years, killed the tree, making it easier to cut down. The tree limbs and, sometimes stumps, were burned, and hauled off. We still call the first field he farmed "The Deadnin" after this process used to clear the land. At the end of the Civil War, 90% of the Delta bottomland was still undeveloped and covered by ancient forests and swamps. Thousands of people came to the Delta where they traded their labor to clear the land to purchase it for themselves.The Delta is what it is today, because these people cleared it and farmed it. I cannot even imagine how much work it required to change so much land!
There is part of me that longs to have this type of work. After all, you can see the fruits of your labor. You see the seedlings turn into productive plants that you then harvest, store and sell. You see the land turn over anew each year with the promise (or hope) that new life will grow in the old fields. You physically feel the work yourself: you sweat and ache from your efforts.
I bet my Delta friends and family are laughing at me for saying all of this. For, in reality, working in the Delta is not always this romantic.
I can remember watching Delta farmers trying to salvage their rice crops after the winds of Katrina ravaged their fields...toiling to harvest whatever they could after all the rice had "laid" down with the counterveiling winds. I know that for many Thanksgivings, soy beans were left in the fields to rot because the fall rains came early and it just wasn't possible to get the beans out in time. And the years that disease attacked acres and acres of corn fields, leaving nothing for all the expense and effort it took to make the crop.
And, many Delta farmers have just given up. They weren't able to pay off prior year loans with the next crop and then had no collateral to offer up for the next year,,, so, out of business after a lifetime, and sometimes generations, of farming. Many had to either sell or lease their land to those few farmers that had the capital to farm. Or, as you can clearly see driving through much of the Delta, many farmers just let their land go to seed.. or waste.
So, I know that really working in the Delta is not quite the picture I paint in my mind. But I do love to see the Delta come alive this time of year. It is a time of renewal; a time of hope; a time of activity. After a long winter, it is good to see the Delta waking up.
But today, I had a real reason to work in the Delta. I had an appointment in Clarksdale, MS, so I headed south from Memphis after a morning meeting, having already plotted my path...Memphis to Tunica..have a late breakfast at the Blue & White on Highway 61...stop by to see if the eagles were still nesting and if "my" cypress swamp had changed with the seasons...take Old Highway 61 through Lula to Clarksdale...and find my way to my meeting.
What I didn't expect was how busy the Delta would be today. Just two weeks ago, there was no action in the fields. All was quiet and peaceful..no action for miles. But today, the Delta was a buzz.
 |
I made several bat turns to go back to take a picture of a tractor tilling the land. I am sure the guys driving those tractors wondered why a middle-aged woman in a red Toyota Camry Hybrid was so interested in their work??? I mean, if you live in the Delta all the time, this is just normal activity. No big deal.
There is a cycle to farming. You till; you plant; you water; you harvest; you store; you sell; and then you start all over again. But for a city girl, there is just something about the dirt, the dust, the physical labor of it all. Something that just yells, "I am really working". This is not whimpy work; not virtual work through email, conference calls, Facebook or Twitter. This is get your hands dirty work!
My grandfather, Pa, knew this type of work. He, with the help of others, literally cleared his Delta land by hand. I have been told he used the "deadening" method of girdling the trees (cutting a band around the trunk), which, over about two years, killed the tree, making it easier to cut down. The tree limbs and, sometimes stumps, were burned, and hauled off. We still call the first field he farmed "The Deadnin" after this process used to clear the land. At the end of the Civil War, 90% of the Delta bottomland was still undeveloped and covered by ancient forests and swamps. Thousands of people came to the Delta where they traded their labor to clear the land to purchase it for themselves.The Delta is what it is today, because these people cleared it and farmed it. I cannot even imagine how much work it required to change so much land!
There is part of me that longs to have this type of work. After all, you can see the fruits of your labor. You see the seedlings turn into productive plants that you then harvest, store and sell. You see the land turn over anew each year with the promise (or hope) that new life will grow in the old fields. You physically feel the work yourself: you sweat and ache from your efforts.
I bet my Delta friends and family are laughing at me for saying all of this. For, in reality, working in the Delta is not always this romantic.
I can remember watching Delta farmers trying to salvage their rice crops after the winds of Katrina ravaged their fields...toiling to harvest whatever they could after all the rice had "laid" down with the counterveiling winds. I know that for many Thanksgivings, soy beans were left in the fields to rot because the fall rains came early and it just wasn't possible to get the beans out in time. And the years that disease attacked acres and acres of corn fields, leaving nothing for all the expense and effort it took to make the crop.
And, many Delta farmers have just given up. They weren't able to pay off prior year loans with the next crop and then had no collateral to offer up for the next year,,, so, out of business after a lifetime, and sometimes generations, of farming. Many had to either sell or lease their land to those few farmers that had the capital to farm. Or, as you can clearly see driving through much of the Delta, many farmers just let their land go to seed.. or waste.
So, I know that really working in the Delta is not quite the picture I paint in my mind. But I do love to see the Delta come alive this time of year. It is a time of renewal; a time of hope; a time of activity. After a long winter, it is good to see the Delta waking up.
Monday, March 21, 2011
Proper Grammar
Before any of you try to correct my grammar in my blog's name, know that the name is really a quote from Miranda Lambert's song "The House That Built Me" which has become my theme song for how I feel about the Delta.
Not because it was my home, because it wasn't. Not because it built me, because it didn't. But in many ways because I am reconnecting with who I am, which is what the song is really about.
Not because it was my home, because it wasn't. Not because it built me, because it didn't. But in many ways because I am reconnecting with who I am, which is what the song is really about.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Butter Knives
After Daddy died, Jeff and I got together to divide the "stuff". Walker couldn't be there, which was really dangerous for him, but we promised him we would be fair!
About a year before, I had taken the silver from Daddy's condo and inventoried it, sending a list to both Jeff & Walker to "protect" myself for sure. So when Jeff and I got together it was really just about seeing what was there and dividing it into thirds.
My Delta grandmother loved sliver. She used it every day, as if it was nothing special. Although, she knew it was special and we knew it was special too. But she didn't keep it hidden away only for special occasions; she used it all the time. So, it was well worn by the time it got to me and my brothers. But, that was and is part of its charm.
It's funny how mores change. When I went to her home in the Delta, dinner was the meal in the middle of the day and she had all her finery in full show. Sterling silver place settings and serve ware. Crystal water glasses as well as ice tea glasses. Ice tea spoons that also served as "straws" (a real gem I wish we still had). Dessert forks, salad forks, salad knives and meat knives. They were all there and all monogrammed with a "U" labeling them as ours.
But the most special pieces were the individual butter plates and butter knives.I know fine hotels had place settings like these, but no one I knew ate like this at home. Only at my grandparents, both in Memphis and Louise, did we have such luxuries. I especially loved the butter knives. They were petite, sturdy, and beautiful!
When we looked at Daddy's silver, we saw there was a set of 12 butter knives. In today's world very few of us have 12 people for a formal dinner and when we do, we never have an individual butter plate for each person. What is the need for 12 butter knives any more?
So, we divided the 12 into thirds with each of us got four knives, and, I am sure, thinking, "when and how will we ever use these?".
My sweet niece Jennifer got married in December. I bought her the usual stuff a bride is excited to get...a mandolin, a stainless steel microplane grater, paring knives, and some type of pancake batter thing-a-ma-jig. But I also decided to give her a butter knife. A monogrammed butter knife from her great-grandmother from the Delta. They never knew each other.. but I hope that by having her great-grandmother's butter knife, she will, in some small way, carry the memory of the Delta into her life.
About a year before, I had taken the silver from Daddy's condo and inventoried it, sending a list to both Jeff & Walker to "protect" myself for sure. So when Jeff and I got together it was really just about seeing what was there and dividing it into thirds.
 |
| Miss Chris' coffee urn was very contemporary |
It's funny how mores change. When I went to her home in the Delta, dinner was the meal in the middle of the day and she had all her finery in full show. Sterling silver place settings and serve ware. Crystal water glasses as well as ice tea glasses. Ice tea spoons that also served as "straws" (a real gem I wish we still had). Dessert forks, salad forks, salad knives and meat knives. They were all there and all monogrammed with a "U" labeling them as ours.
But the most special pieces were the individual butter plates and butter knives.I know fine hotels had place settings like these, but no one I knew ate like this at home. Only at my grandparents, both in Memphis and Louise, did we have such luxuries. I especially loved the butter knives. They were petite, sturdy, and beautiful!
When we looked at Daddy's silver, we saw there was a set of 12 butter knives. In today's world very few of us have 12 people for a formal dinner and when we do, we never have an individual butter plate for each person. What is the need for 12 butter knives any more?
So, we divided the 12 into thirds with each of us got four knives, and, I am sure, thinking, "when and how will we ever use these?".
My sweet niece Jennifer got married in December. I bought her the usual stuff a bride is excited to get...a mandolin, a stainless steel microplane grater, paring knives, and some type of pancake batter thing-a-ma-jig. But I also decided to give her a butter knife. A monogrammed butter knife from her great-grandmother from the Delta. They never knew each other.. but I hope that by having her great-grandmother's butter knife, she will, in some small way, carry the memory of the Delta into her life.
A Saved Chocolate
Funny how you just do some things and think back later and wonder why you did them.
I saved a chocolate from my stay at the Alluvian Hotel a little over a week ago. Why did I do that?
Well, probably because I love chocolate and just can't think of not taking a "free" piece with me when I leave a hotel. But, this piece, for some reason, was more important to save.
I think I was trying, in some small way, to save the memories of that Friday night.
Lee and I left Memphis for our first trip alone together to "THE DELTA". He was so sweet to agree to come with me to Rolling Fork to see my new place. But, we couldn't check in until Saturday. There was no way I was only going to have one night in the Delta, so we made reservations at the Alluvian in Greenwood for Friday night and ventured south from Memphis on a Friday afternoon.
We arrived around 5:00 and had dinner reservations at a near-by restaurant at 6:00. With not much time to waste, we headed straight for the Alluvian bar! We started out at a table, but when a place at the bar opened up, we were johnny on the spot. I told Lee that it is always more fun to be at the bar and talk to the folks sitting there than to be at a table by yourself. Good advice for a 21 year old just beginning to understand bars!
Well, we were not disappointed. I recognized a regular right away. In fact, he was sitting in the same seat back last September when Pat and I had ventured into the Delta for a music festival. He was holding court with an old guard Leflore County couple. He is from Tallahatchie County, which always makes me think about that tragic story captured in song about someone jumping off the Tallahatchie bridge!
As we got settled in, an older gentleman worked his way to the bar with help from one of the waiters. He had been sitting at a table too, just waiting for a spot to open up, just like us! He moved slowly due to recent surgery. He told us later he was in Greenwood for physical therapy.
What a great visit we had. We talked with him about college, film and media (Lee's major at Birmingham-Southern), Louise (yes he knew where it was), my new place in Rolling Fork, and his life in Sumner, about 30 minutes from Greenwood. He knew the bar tenders by name (as did the guy sitting in the corner) and they treated him and us with such grace and deference.
The Alluvian bar is a great place to really get to understand the Delta. People come there to meet others and to engage others. It is not a stuffy bar at all. It is about saying hello, and "where you from", and "do you know so and so", and "where are you going for dinner?" As you can tell, they have their own set of regulars. We even met a couple from Collierville, TN sitting at a nearby table. We were close friends by the end of the evening.
The art of conversation is definitely appreciated in the Alluvian bar.
The Alluvian bar is not the exception at all. It is the rule. People in the Delta are waiting for an excuse to talk with you! All you have to do is pause a little and they are pulling you in and out of your shell.
They say that the lobby bar at The Peabody Hotel in Memphis is the beginning of the Delta. If so, the Alluvian bar is in the heart of the Delta You never met a stranger at the Alluvian bar. You are "everyman" and you are talking to everyone at the bar..all connected by being there and in the Delta at the same time.
I saved a chocolate from my stay at the Alluvian Hotel a little over a week ago. Why did I do that?
Well, probably because I love chocolate and just can't think of not taking a "free" piece with me when I leave a hotel. But, this piece, for some reason, was more important to save.
I think I was trying, in some small way, to save the memories of that Friday night.
Lee and I left Memphis for our first trip alone together to "THE DELTA". He was so sweet to agree to come with me to Rolling Fork to see my new place. But, we couldn't check in until Saturday. There was no way I was only going to have one night in the Delta, so we made reservations at the Alluvian in Greenwood for Friday night and ventured south from Memphis on a Friday afternoon.
 |
| Diners have their own private booths at the Alluvian's Giardinas |
Well, we were not disappointed. I recognized a regular right away. In fact, he was sitting in the same seat back last September when Pat and I had ventured into the Delta for a music festival. He was holding court with an old guard Leflore County couple. He is from Tallahatchie County, which always makes me think about that tragic story captured in song about someone jumping off the Tallahatchie bridge!
As we got settled in, an older gentleman worked his way to the bar with help from one of the waiters. He had been sitting at a table too, just waiting for a spot to open up, just like us! He moved slowly due to recent surgery. He told us later he was in Greenwood for physical therapy.
What a great visit we had. We talked with him about college, film and media (Lee's major at Birmingham-Southern), Louise (yes he knew where it was), my new place in Rolling Fork, and his life in Sumner, about 30 minutes from Greenwood. He knew the bar tenders by name (as did the guy sitting in the corner) and they treated him and us with such grace and deference.
The Alluvian bar is a great place to really get to understand the Delta. People come there to meet others and to engage others. It is not a stuffy bar at all. It is about saying hello, and "where you from", and "do you know so and so", and "where are you going for dinner?" As you can tell, they have their own set of regulars. We even met a couple from Collierville, TN sitting at a nearby table. We were close friends by the end of the evening.
The art of conversation is definitely appreciated in the Alluvian bar.
The Alluvian bar is not the exception at all. It is the rule. People in the Delta are waiting for an excuse to talk with you! All you have to do is pause a little and they are pulling you in and out of your shell.
They say that the lobby bar at The Peabody Hotel in Memphis is the beginning of the Delta. If so, the Alluvian bar is in the heart of the Delta You never met a stranger at the Alluvian bar. You are "everyman" and you are talking to everyone at the bar..all connected by being there and in the Delta at the same time.
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