WhatFinger


Jimmy Reed

[em]Jimmy Reed is an Oxford, Mississippi resident, Ole Miss and Delta State University alumnus, Vietnam Era Army Veteran, former Mississippi Delta cotton farmer and ginner, author, and retired college teacher. This story is a selection from Jimmy Reed’s latest book, entitled [strong]The Jaybird Tales[/strong]. Copies, including personalized autographs, can be reserved by notifying the author via email (.(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)).[/em]

Most Recent Articles by Jimmy Reed:

Floyd Finnegan’s Finished Fishing Forever

Floyd Finnegan’s Finished Fishing ForeverThe sun was sliding toward the horizon, and my lifelong friend and mentor Jaybird and I were waiting for two men ahead of us on the ramp, launching their boat, but what was about to happen dashed all hopes of fishing that day. Fidgeting, Jaybird mused, “I wonder what’s keeping those clowns from launching. We should be fishing by now.” I nodded in agreement with the old black man. Strange indeed … the truck’s driver, Floyd Finnegan, faced backward, but wasn’t responding to his pal in the boat who was shouting angrily for him to back further down the ramp until the boat floated free of its trailer. Frustrated, Jaybird moseyed down to chat with a few ladies fishing from the bank. On pretty days, they were always there, wearing flower dresses, wide-brimmed straw hats, and sitting on five-gallon cans. One of them, Sadie, lived on Dad’s Mississippi Delta farm.
- Thursday, February 10, 2022

The Fleet-Footed Fastest Fighting Cub

The Fleet-Footed Fastest Fighting CubDuring my college teaching career, experience— always the best teacher — taught me to identify abilities of students whose attitude held them back and do all possible to maximize those abilities. Although challenging, for some it was a life-changing experience. I know. It happened to me in 1961. In high school, I wanted to play football, but weighed only 97 pounds. Looking at the other players convinced me I was doomed to be a bench warmer. Their uniforms fit well, but Mama had to cut swatches from my jersey until it fit over the shoulder pads and tapered down my rail-thin torso. She sewed loops on the pant’s top so that a tight belt would prevent their falling to my knees. The helmet was beyond her skills, and after being tackled in practice I often arose looking through one of the ear holes.
- Wednesday, February 9, 2022

Eternal Existence With God

‘Eternal Existence With God’After we toured author William Faulkner’s home, I asked students in my creative writing class how the great writer felt about mankind’s capacity for endurance, to which a student replied, “He summed it in his acceptance speech for the Nobel Prize in literature: ‘I believe man will not merely endure; he will prevail.’” Another great thinker, my boyhood best friend and mentor Jaybird defined man’s capacity for endurance by living it, day by day. When I was ten years old, my father, a Mississippi Delta farmer, turned me over to the old black man and told him to teach me how to work. I didn’t even know what endurance meant, and certainly didn’t have enough of it to withstand long workdays. I learned; Jaybird saw to that.
- Tuesday, February 8, 2022


The Death Of Fear

The Death Of FearWhile sipping coffee in the faculty lounge, a colleague chided me for dwelling too much on subjects of a serious nature. A self-proclaimed agnostic, he said, “Christians, especially you Protestants, take life too seriously. Life is for enjoyment, which your serious nature disallows.” “Since you brought up religion — because I’m a Christian, I don’t believe a middle ground exists between believers and non-believers.”
- Sunday, February 6, 2022

Good Will To All

Good Will To AllThat Christmas Eve, my boyhood best friend and mentor Jaybird leaned on his porch rail, looking across Mississippi Delta cotton fields in which he had toiled since he was a boy. In moon-blanched stillness, the fields were taking a well-earned winter rest. The old black man had seen good cotton years and bad, but few like this one. Rainfall came, plenteous and timely; sunny summer days were long, hot and humid. Cotton’s green blood, chlorophyll, raced in photosynthetic delirium from sun-absorbing leaves to roots, stalks, and fruit, loading plants with bulging bolls that produced one of the biggest yields ever.
- Thursday, February 3, 2022

Forgiveness — The Most Complete Revenge

When I went to Jaybird’s house after school with a black eye and swollen nose, I was ashamed to tell him I lost a fistfight. The old black man, my boyhood best friend and mentor, asked one question: “Was it a fair fight?” “Well, I guess so. Because I thought Freddie was cheating in our marble game, I took a swing at him. We fought, and I lost. But I promise you this, I will get revenge.”
- Wednesday, February 2, 2022

The Good Land God Gave Us

The Good Land God Gave UsUpon returning home to the Mississippi Delta after overseas military service, Dad put me to work as farm manager, labor supervisor, and bookkeeper. As harvest season approached that first year, he said, “Son, we’ve got a fine cotton crop that must be gathered before fall rains set in. You’ll replace me as gin manager; I’ll tend to the harvest. Jaybird knows all about that gin and will show you the works.”
- Wednesday, February 2, 2022

God Looks At The Heart

God Looks At The HeartWhen Rachel, a well-dressed young woman, walked into my British Literature class, I noticed that her most attractive feature was thick, glossy, brunette hair, perfectly coiffed. I thought … if only all female students would go to such trouble to improve their looks before appearing in public. Nowadays, many don’t; the way some dress is appalling. With shorts that are little more than panties, T-shirts sagging from underneath their blouses, unkempt hair, and dirty, unlaced sneakers, they look like tramps.
- Tuesday, February 1, 2022

Go For The Long Ball

Go For The Long BallWhen I batted in Little League baseball, bunting was the last thing on my mind. I focused on slugging the ball over the outfield fence. A bunt, I thought, insulted my Louisville Slugger bat. My boyhood best friend and mentor Jaybird took me to games, and watching in disappointment when I struck out, told me that I wasn’t big enough or strong enough yet to hit homeruns. “That will come someday,” he said. “Right now, get good at what you can do — become the team’s best bunter; Coach Coleman will notice, and play you more.”
- Monday, January 31, 2022

The Gift Of Honesty

The Gift Of HonestyIn a small town near my father’s Mississippi Delta farm, Purlene and “Ug” Upton, owners of a mom-and-pop store, paid top dollar for pecans. One look explained Ug’s nickname: A mule kicked him on the cheek, and his jaws no longer matched, giving his face an ugly twist. The blow also affected one eye, which focused momentarily and then roamed.
- Sunday, January 16, 2022

Games Of Chance Are Mischance

Games Of Chance Are MischanceDuring my teenage years, I thought like most adolescent males: I was no longer a boy, but a full-grown man. During those turbulent years, my boyhood best friend and mentor Jaybird taught me many life lessons the hard way: through experience. Once, after he lit up a Camel cigarette while we were fishing, I reached over and took the cigarette case from his shirt pocket. The old black man didn’t say a word when I boasted that I was a man and could smoke if I wanted to. Shrugging, he passed me the lighter. I lit up, inhaled deeply, and picked up my fishing pole.
- Saturday, January 15, 2022

A Fool Fooled Twice

A Fool Fooled TwiceOnly fools think money solves all problems,” my lifelong best friend and mentor Jaybird told me. One day while lolling with my pals on Uptown Avenue in our Mississippi Delta hometown, I ignored Jaybird’s advice about money, and learned its truth the hard way. I didn’t have a cent, and was certain money could solve a problem: coming up with twenty-five cents to buy an All-Day Sucker at Peach-Eye’s Grocery.  
- Saturday, January 8, 2022

A Fish No Man Could Catch

A Fish No Man Could CatchDeep down in his mute, cool, dimly lit domain, the monarch of the Mississippi Delta swamp hole lay in patient ambush while the terrified shiner just inches above him swam round and round in frantic arcs, desperately struggling to break free of its tether to the red and white bobber floating on the surface. 


- Friday, January 7, 2022

The Endless Attraction Of Penny Whistles

When a student in my creative writing class noticed that I printed exercise forms on the unused side of sheets on which previous classroom handouts had been printed, she said, “Only a tightwad would do that.”

- Thursday, January 6, 2022

Eerie Ed Eddards

Eerie Ed EddardsOf all the men with whom I worked during two decades as manager of my father’s Mississippi Delta farm, Ed Eddards was the strangest. Eerie describes him better. One day when my lifelong friend and mentor Jaybird and I were repairing a tractor’s flat tire, he appeared suddenly. “I need a job,” he said abruptly, causing us to whirl around. Growling, Guv’nuh, my Doberman Pinscher, scooted close against my leg, and Jaybird whispered, “Something ain’t right about that man.”
- Wednesday, January 5, 2022

Easter Hands

Easter HandsOne fine spring day, on my father’s Mississippi Delta farm, Jaybird, my boyhood best friend and mentor, told a story to a group of us children, a story he called “Easter Hands.” As the old black man slipped into the hypnosis of his bullfrog bass voice, we little ones clustered at his feet, leaning toward him like eager flowers toward the rising sun. He told us the story of Easter. We had heard Jesus Christ called different names — Savior, Messiah, the Nazarene, Son of Man — and our young minds were confused. Jaybird explained in a way we understood.
- Tuesday, January 4, 2022

Don’t Dare Do Deputy Duty

My lifelong best friend and mentor Jaybird warned me not to be deputized, but our little Mississippi Delta farming community was too remote for the law’s long arm to reach quickly, so I accepted the badge offered by the sheriff. “We’ll soon learn how tough a deputy you are,” the old black man said, as we left church. “Tump Thompson is trying to court Pete Plugg’s daughter, Lottie Lou. Don’t dare do deputy duty.”
- Friday, December 24, 2021

Don’t Bet On Beatrice

Don’t Bet On Beatrice Glaring at the Volkswagen Beetle in front of the commissary store on Dad’s Mississippi Delta cotton farm, my boyhood best friend and mentor Jaybird said, “That ain’t nothing but a coffin with wheels on it.”
- Thursday, December 23, 2021

The Craziest Pilot Who Ever Flew

The Craziest Pilot Who Ever Flew When the caller asked if I would fly to the Gulf Coast and get his dead brother, I didn’t know what to say. “He died while vacationing, but the local ambulance company charges too much for the trip,” he said. “If you’ll do it, I’ll rent the airplane and pay you $100.”
- Wednesday, December 22, 2021

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