The Georgia Piedmont is a lot like the highlands of northeast Mississippi, which is where I live. Our countryside is just glorious, even if some people might sneer at us or want to burn us down. In my book, Tishomingo or Chief “T,” as we called him when I was a kid, was probably the greatest man in Chickasaw history. I suppose that a young Indian boy might say the same about his daddy or grandpa, although Big T is the namesake of the county.
What? Will the BML’s and the Commifas be coming for Chief T’s monument next?
For years and years, before I retired, the only black man (and family) in the neighborhood was my friend Clark - and Clark was not his real name - who used to live down at the corner. He was a farmer and my second-best fishing buddy. Nobody beats an old Hound Dog as a fishing buddy, even if he ate half the minnows! Lord, I miss them both on a Saturday afternoon.
I’ve been thinking about all of this modern justice stuff for a while now. I’ve had the time, what with the sniffle-bug-lockout and such. Plus I am old, stiff, and retired. The problems with the black cultural ascendancy can be traced back to the Seventies when Motown went corporate and had to move out to LA. It was the same set of songs, but with a different meaning since Detroit was gone. If Jim Crow had owned a moving truck, he couldn’t have done worse. Just ask Florence Ballard (RIP).
Time permitting, I’d say something about Mr. Brooks and his Brother closing their store. However, I see Mildred waving and I smell pie. Yum! In short, wear the mask if it makes you feel like a woman, just don’t rob my bank.
*Jasper Norville Loblolly is a retired forestry estimator and life-long Mississippi native. Nowadays, he pretty much minds his own business. He fondly recalls Mornin’ with Buddy and Kay and he subscribes to Freedom Prepper. He is astounded at the option of two PBS stations on the new digital television.