Oxford, MS

From Tupelo, we moved to Oxford.  Home of Ole Miss and of Faulkner.  We wandered the grounds of his old house.  We’ve been doing that a lot recently: visiting the old homes of dead figures: Faulkner, Elvis, Jefferson Davis.  Amazing how little light a house sheds on the actual life of the man who lived in it.  We peed on Faulkner’s bushes.  Hurrah.

Oxford is really a very charming town.  College town.  Lovely square.  Lots of book stores and such.  We ate some pizza.  The pizza shop owner was from Ohio and named Tate Moore.  He cooked us up some Ohio-style pizzas.  We spent an hour or so with Tate talking about Oxford, the South, and college drunkenness.  He’s a musician, who tours rather frequently with his band that sounds something like Wilco, according to him.  He gave us a couple CDs for the road.  We make so many friends in the south.

That night we stayed with Miriam.  She’s a TFA teacher based in the even-smaller Holly Springs, MS.  She was proctoring (or whatever you call it) a basketball game at her high school when we arrived, so we went to watch.  Every single person in the building, except us and a few teachers, was black.  Segregation ain’t quite over.  After the game, Miriam took us out for deep-fried dill pickles in ranch sauce.  Deep-fried dill pickles in ranch sauce.

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