Jimmy Reed

Inward Joy

The phone rang early. “Meet me for breakfast — my treat,” said a vaguely familiar voice. “Great,” I answered, “but who is my breakfast benefactor?” When he said Billy Clay, I was thrilled; fifty years ago, he and I were college roommates.

Free Flynn On The Fattening Board

That fall day Boss was short a driver. The Mississippi Delta’s weather during gathering time had been as good as the cotton harvest, but now rain was coming, and the dead stalks had to be cut before it arrived, meaning two drivers must operate the stalk cutter tractor night and day.

Election Integrity

Americans have so much to be thankful for, especially election integrity. Fraud in the presidential election would have made future voters wonder if the country’s method of choosing leaders can ever be trusted again.

Family Member, Bound In Black

I placed the tattered old book in a box and stuffed in packing material. Before sealing it, I lay my hand on the book for a moment … and remembered.

Coveralls Behind The Door

With solemn intensity the two men faced each other. The man behind the counter in the tiny Mississippi Delta country store held a pack of cigarettes; his customer flipped a coin.

He Was Right

Four years ago, I read a newspaper column entitled “Contemporary Cassandra” in which the author made predictions about American politics, and compared himself to prophetess Cassandra of Greek mythology, who was ostracized because she made predictions that everyone scoffed at, but that always came true.

Amongst Metropolites

For someone as country as I am, Oxford, Mississippi, my adopted hometown, is huge. Imagine how I felt when — after living fifty years in a Mississippi Delta hamlet, population fifty souls — I landed a desk job as an editor in megalopolis Memphis.

UMOC

When I entered the University of Mississippi, I was everything co-eds didn’t want to look at. Nothing about me was attractive or symmetrical. I was the proverbial ninety-eight pound weakling. Skeleton skinny, I could hide behind a fence post. I had narrow shoulders, a sunken chest, a giraffe neck, and arms as long as an orangutan’s.

USS Dunleith

When cotton was gathered by hand, and gins processed only a few bales an hour, farmers placed small wooden sheds at the edge of fields to store the harvest until it could be ginned. They were impervious to precipitation … but not fire.

Play The Hand You’re Dealt

From the ceiling of Tommy Hyde’s room, model airplanes hung in every possible configuration — landing, taking off, diving, banking, inverted. The little boy had built all of them. To fly was his life’s dream … but it would never be: Only one of his eyes provided vision.

Boy, Boy, Boy, Boy, Boy

Newman was old, cantankerous, and deaf as a doorknob, but mighty handy around the farm. One of his regular jobs was hauling off garbage, and he would let me sit on his knees and steer the old flat bed truck as we drove to the dump.

Remove The Barb

In an instant, thrill changed to horror. After watching Jaybird’s cane pole bending almost double and the line sawing through the water, I saw the shape of a huge fish emerging from the murky depths. Then, the monster crappie exploded on the surface, and the old black man reached to grab him. Suddenly, the fish threw the hook, and it flew straight into his outstretched hand.

The Starling And Miss Sterling

During my senior year, our biology teacher instructed us to pick any wild creature inhabiting the Mississippi Delta, read up on it, and write an essay about our findings. I chose starlings.

That Night At The Two-Stick

My folks squandered a lot of loot sending me to college. Studying was the last thing on my mind; first on it was fun.

Coop, The Cop

The crops did well that year, and Leland’s football team went undefeated. We seniors were happy. Only one thing bugged us: Coop.

Don’t Rob God

My creative writing students came up with scenarios that everyone could elaborate on in class. One student’s suggestion generated the most discussion: If a billionaire picked our class at random and distributed million dollar checks to all of us, what would be the first thing each of us would do?

Greasy Chicken Bones

There were two of us, and like me, the other guy had no scruples and was delightful company. Along with several hundred other students, we rode the “Victory Train” from Oxford, Mississippi, to Baton Rouge, Louisiana, to witness the annual gridiron spectacle between the Ole Miss Rebels and the Louisiana State University Tigers. Anyone who has ever attended this event knows there are no limits to the mutual animosity shared by the schools’ students and alumni.

Still On His Throne

As a college teacher, I walked into my first classroom in the fall of 1969. During roll call, I noticed one student — a tall, muscular, blonde, blue-eyed, handsome youngster. His demeanor set him apart from his classmates. He exuded the type of serenity and cheerfulness that comes from this certainty: Even when the world seems teetering on the brink of war, destruction, and chaos, God will never forsake those who trust Him.

Dad, Let’s Dance

As a youngster, my friend Bill’s parents taught him that life is a great adventure, but that some people miss out on it — not because they fear dying, but, lacking courage, they fear living.

Bunt

When I stepped to the plate, bunting was the last thing on my mind. I was determined to slug the ball over the Little League field’s outfield boundary. A bunt, I thought, was an insult to my Louisville Slugger bat.