While touring William Faulkner’s Home, a student from California in my creative writing class asked, “Does the fact that Mississippi is a much-maligned state disadvantage its youth when they compete in the job market with peers from other states? Is there a stigma attached to being a native Mississippian?”
Considering the moral and cultural woes her home state wallows in perpetually, I bit my tongue to avoid a vituperative riposte.
Instead, I dismissed her insult to the deep affection I have for the state I thank God is my home, and answered, “Mississippi’s contributions to society are far more numerous than her past mistakes. Historically, Mississippians — women and men, black and white — have represented their home state in virtually every field of human endeavor, and continue doing so.
“However, I must admit the stigma to which you refer does surface occasionally. Once, in San Francisco, a woman read I LOVE MISSISSIPPI on my T-shirt, and asked, ‘Why are you wearing shoes? I thought folks from that ignorant, backwoods state went barefooted.’”
“Oh, we do, Madam,” I said, “but only when treading Mississippi’s hallowed ground. When out of what we ignorant, backwoods people call God’s Country, we wear shoes to avoid contaminating our feet.” The class laughed, and the tour continued.
That exchange reminded me of an experience years ago, when I met my Army roommate in our overseas barracks. The tiny room contained two bunks, two footlockers, and little else. The name on one locker read, “PFC Jimmy C. Jones”; on the other, “PFC Jimmy C. Reed.”
Extending his hand, an African-American said, “Jones, my man, The Bronx, Noo Yok. Where ya from?”
“Mississippi,” I drawled.
“Mississippi!” he exclaimed. “Geez — Mom will faint when I write and tell her where my roommate is from. You’re not a Klan member are you — not one of those nightriders I’ve read about?”
First impressions notwithstanding, Jimmy and I soon became pals, even though he couldn’t resist nicknaming me Nightrider, or mimicking my accent.
We were the same size, and not wanting to be seen with a guy in my wardrobe’s dull duds, he shared his fashionable clothing when we enjoyed weekend passes together. As time went by, we evolved from being pals, to best friends, to soul mates.
When our overseas tours ended, Jones chose to reenlist; I opted for civilian life. As our last hour together drew to a close, we chatted heart-to-heart, and exchanged photos of each other, but that wasn’t enough — he had a special shoulder patch, and knew how badly I wanted it.
Reading my mind, he said, “I’ll give you the patch, but you must swap something to remind me of you.”
“What could that be?” I asked.
“Your wallet,” he answered. I handed over the wallet with the state of Mississippi on one side and Confederate Battle Flag on the other.
Back home, I framed his photograph and the patch. To this day, it brings back cherished memories of two friends for life: Jimmy C. and me.
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 The Jaybird Tales.
Copies, including personalized autographs, can be reserved by notifying the author via email (.(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)).
While touring William Faulkner’s Home, a student from California in my creative writing class asked, “Does the fact that Mississippi is a much-maligned state disadvantage its youth when they compete in the job market with peers from other states? Is there a stigma attached to being a native Mississippian?”
Considering the moral and cultural woes her home state wallows in perpetually, I bit my tongue to avoid a vituperative riposte.
Instead, I dismissed her insult to the deep affection I have for the state I thank God is my home, and answered, “Mississippi’s contributions to society are far more numerous than her past mistakes. Historically, Mississippians — women and men, black and white — have represented their home state in virtually every field of human endeavor, and continue doing so.
