Remembering Mississippi: A Place That Never Leaves You

I haven’t lived in Mississippi since 1987. That’s pushing forty years now—four decades since I packed up my life, left the Magnolia State, and planted myself in south-central Kentucky, mostly Bowling Green, where I’ve been ever since 1988. But every now and then, something stirs the dust of those old memories, and suddenly Mississippi doesn’t feel far away at all. It feels like yesterday. What brought it all flooding back this time was the news about Lane Kiffin. The Ole Miss football coach decided to bail on the Rebels and head to LSU for a whole lot more money. The move left the players hanging, the administration scrambling, and the fans and alumni feeling sucker-punched. And as a proud Ole Miss alum myself, it bothered me too. You don’t abandon the people who poured their hearts into you—not without leaving a bruise. I ended up talking with a former fraternity brother of mine, Dr. Donald Simmons, who now lives in Tupelo. He’s a chaplain down there, still connected to the heartbeat of Mississippi. We reminisced about the old days, and that simple conversation unlocked a whole room full of memories—college days, journalism classes, long nights at the Daily Mississippian, and the people who shaped my young life. Mississippi may be poor in dollars, but it’s rich in soul. Oxford, Ole Miss, and the Spirit That Lingers Oxford was where I became who I was going to be. I studied journalism at Ole Miss, worked at the campus newspaper, and walked the same streets that so many storytellers had walked before me. It was also where I met my wife, Patty—a meeting that would define the rest of my life. Funny how a single place can carry so many beginnings. There’s something about being a freshman at Ole Miss—the buzz on the Square, the Grove on a Saturday, the faces you meet who somehow stay with you long after you leave. The Ole Miss spirit doesn’t fade. You carry it with you. It becomes a part of how you talk, how you laugh, how you remember. Willie Morris and the Writers’ Bench One of the brightest memories from those years was Willie Morris, the late writer-in-residence at the university. Most folks know him for My Dog Skip, but to us journalism and English students, he was something more—our literary uncle, our storyteller-in-chief. Willie was a Southern writer who had lived big in New York City—editor of Harper’s Magazine, Rhodes Scholar, a man who knew both the Delta and Manhattan. And somehow he made Oxford his home. I was one of his groupies. A lot of us were. We’d sit with him at the Hoka, sipping coffee that may or may not have been strengthened with a little bourbon. We’d follow him over to The Gin, drinking White Russians while he talked about life, writing, and Mississippi. Sometimes we’d wind up in his house on Faculty Row—No. 16, if memory hasn’t tricked me—where he’d read to us or listen to whatever half-finished stories we were working on. Those nights had a magic of their own. Dr. Simmons was the one who first introduced me to Willie. I still have several of Willie’s books, all autographed, plus some letters we exchanged through the years. He was generous that way—generous with his time, his words, and his whiskey.

Family Roots in Mississippi Mississippi is also where our son Tony was born, in Pontotoc. Hard to believe he’s 38 now and living his own life up in New Jersey. Funny how something as simple as thinking about Oxford can make the years feel like a stack of old photographs sitting in your lap. And speaking of people from those days, I’m looking forward to reading The Dean by Sparky Reardon, one of our former deans at Ole Miss. Sparky is retired now, but he was a legend when I was there. My stepdaughter, Misty Hale from Taylor, asked what I wanted for Christmas, and I told her plain and simple—an autographed copy of Sparky’s book. That’ll bring back even more memories, I’m sure. Time Moves On, But Mississippi Holds Tight I may have built my life in Kentucky, raised kids, worked different jobs, and grown older, but Mississippi still lives quietly in me. Those eleven years—from 1976 to 1987—were long enough to shape a lifetime. They were good years. Formative years. Years full of friendship, learning, heartbreak, joy, and the unmistakable Southern charm that only Mississippi can produce. Lane Kiffin leaving might sting for a while. Folks in Mississippi have a way of taking loyalty seriously. But coaches come and go. Players come and go. What stays is the spirit—the memories, the people you met, the stories you lived, and the feeling you carry long after you leave Oxford. And even after nearly forty years away, Mississippi still knows my name.

Let's Keep Building Ole Miss Up Rather Than Tearing Her Down By Taking Away Her Traditions And Heritage

The Lyceum

   I knew Willie Morris, Barry Hannah, Dr. Porter Fortune, Ron Shapiro and The Hoka. I knew the Rebel flag, the Rebels, Frat Row, the Dixie Song and Kentucky bourbon in my Coke on a Saturday football fall afternoon. I knew the Spirit of Ole Miss as I graced her hallways in The Lyceum on an early Spring morning or as I sat in a classroom at Bondurant Hall on a long, hot summer day. I knew the beat of her heart when I walked the Grove on a beautiful fall afternoon.

    And I can still hear her calling my name as I am one of thousands of students who knew and loved her as she was. Thirty three years later, it’s not a matter of how much money I have given her through the years. But it’s a matter of how much she has given me. She prepared me for the world, my career and how to be a family man. She made me into a productive and responsible citizen in my community.

My late mother and I in 1986 at Ole Miss

   
She has given me so much more than I could have ever given her. So the question is, “Would we recognize her today? No, I don’t think so. Has her spirit, heart and soul been destroyed? Yes, I think so. The liberals and socialists have crawled all over her like poisonous and diseased insects. So let’s keep building her up rather than tearing her down. Let’s keep her traditions and heritage alive so she will continue to have a positive impact on all of her student’s lives for future generations as she done for mine today. May God Bless Ole Miss and Hotty Toddy! (Pic below: My late mother and I in 1986).

About The New Willie Morris Biography: "Willie: The Life of Willie Morris By Teresa Nicholas"

"I received from Amazon, the new biography of Willie Morris, the late Mississippi author and our former writer-in-residence at Ole Miss while I was in college there from 82-87. I am looking forward to reading it and I'll probably write a review for my blog regarding the book. I realize after being away from Ole Miss (even though I have returned many times for visits) and Oxford, Miss., for almost 30 years now that I was just simply a fan like a lot of admirers were back then. And sometimes fans go out of their way to do unusual things to try to obtain the admiration of their favorite celebrity, author, sports figure or musicians. Some are not so gracious but Willie was gracious and personable. He remembered your name and treated you like a friend."-Galen A. Smith Sr.

Tennis Courts in Oxford, Miss., Named After Late Ole Miss Writer-In-Residence and Writing Teacher, Barry Hannah

     I was reminded recently of the late writer-in-residence and writing teacher, Barry Hannah at Ole Miss where I attended college for five years in the early 80's by an article that was written by Oxford, Miss., writer, Jim Dees, called "Was There A Golden Age" in Oxford?"http://oxfordcitizen.com/2015/04/10/was-there-a-golden-age-in-oxford/. Also, because of the fact that the City of Oxford had named some tennis courts in a local park after him that made national news earlier this month. http://oxfordcitizen.com/2015/04/13/avent-tennis-courts-named-for-barry-hannah/

Photo Taken By Galen A. Smith Sr.
Ole Miss, 1986

      I remember learning about Mr. Hannah being at Ole Miss when I saw some of his posters for some books he had written posted around campus.  To me, it seemed he just appeared out of nowhere.  Little did I know that Mr. Hannah had accepted a position with the university teaching writing courses in the English department on campus and also became our writer-in-residence.  Also, he already had several books published, won awards and had taught at other universities. Eventually, I think most students and Oxford citizens realize that we now had another pretty well-known and respected writer in the vicinity besides our other well known writer-in-residence, another Mississippi writer, Willie Morris. Barry and Willie were basically two different types of writers. Mr. Hannah, fiction, and Willie, non-fiction. Although, I am sure that they hung out at night together some with the same people in the same circle of friends at the former Hoka, the famous little bohemian coffee shop and theater in the small university town.  And I'm sure some of his quick new friends when he arrived in town were probably of course, Willie, and Ron Shapiro, who owned the Hoka, and Jim Dees who worked there.

"Week Of Initiation," One of the Short-Stories
that I wrote for Mr. Hannah's course.  I was
proud of the comments he gave me on it.

      Eventually, I took Mr. Hannah's fiction writing course and got an "A" in it.  I think one of the things he liked about me as a writer is that I took chances by writing such short stories like an expose piece about a fraternity initiation that was loosely based on truth.  It was foul-mouth and dirty.  But he liked it.  In the Summer of 1986, I was the Entertainment Editor of  Ole Miss' student newspaper, "The Daily Mississippian."  Mr. Hannah allowed me to come to his home and interview him for the student newspaper.

 

Written By Galen A. Smith Sr.
Published June 19, 1986
"The Daily Mississippian"

    While I was in Mr. Hannah's class, I met another young writer and Ole Miss student by the name of  Katie Powell from Bowling Green, Ky., who would eventually become his daughter-in-law.  Mr. Hannah's son, Barry Jr., was also a student at Ole Miss at the time and I had several classes with him.  I would also see Katie at the Hoka where she worked some serving cheesecake and coffee.  Eventually, I had moved to Bowling Green after I married a Kentucky lady down in Oxford who was also from the Bowling Green area and we eventually settled there in 1988 after we had married in 1986.  That same year in 1988, I saw Katie again at a local Italian restaurant in downtown Bowling Green where she was serving and invited me to her wedding to Barry Jr.  The wedding was at the historical St. Joseph Catholic Church in Bowling Green with a reception at the Bowling Green Country Club.  At the reception, I saw Mr. Hannah again and I think he was really surprised to see me and probably wondering how in the hell I got there!  I don't think he understood the connection at the time.

     Eventually as time went by, I lost touch with Ole Miss and Oxford and the local writer's scene with the Hoka and the famous, little, independent book store, "Square Books" where they had a lot of book signings and readings for authors from all over the country and world.  By the time 1994 had arrived, it seemed Oxford was in the national spotlight all the time because of legal thriller writer and Oxford resident John Grisham's major success.  So I decided to attend the "Second Annual Oxford Conference For The Book" in 1994 that was taken place on campus at Fulton Chapel with a reception following in the library.  Superstar horror writer, Stephen King was there along with John Grisham and Mr. Hannah was moderating.  Before the session began, I saw Mr. Hannah sitting down on a wall on the side of the building smoking a cigarette and I decided to walk around and talk to him.  Obviously, Mr. Hannah was trying to enjoy his cigarette and I started to ask questions about getting published and he got really irritated with me so I decided to back off and leave.  However, I did get to shake Mr. King's hand after the session was over with.  However,  Mr. Grisham was standoffish and apparently didn't want to be bothered either with the public.  Apparently, fame and being the center of attention was closing in on him.

    Regardless, I held no grudge against Mr. Hannah.  I am the one who invaded his space and privacy that day.  However, I am extremely happy for Mr. Hannah and his family and grandchildren for being remembered and honored by the City of Oxford and by naming the tennis courts after him since he loved the game of tennis as well as writing and teaching. Mainly, he was an excellent teacher of fiction writing in my opinion and I really enjoyed taking his class.  His class was one of the best in my five years at Ole Miss!