Mississippi Funerals
Yes, well, one of Joanderwoman's uncles just passed away. Most of her mom's family are still in Neshoba county, so that's where we went. Philadelphia, Mississippi is country country Country. I dunno how remarkable that is to the average person, but i was pretty conscious of it myself. There's a big difference between being a Bostonian transplant in Atlanta... and being a YANKEE in the DEEP SOUTH.
The funeral was small and quiet. The family was somber and respectful. There was even some fried chicken, cornbread, and sweet tea at a little gathering afterward. All things considered, it was nice.
We weren't actually heading back home 'til the next day though. So there i was, trapped in Mississippi (hundreds of kilometers away from my cats and internet connection), with many hours still to kill. What to do. What to do. Well, what would yoU do? Of course we did the only thing there really is to do in Noxapater (Population: 400) on a Saturday night. We went clubbing. That is to say... we went to The Catfish Opry. The Catfish Opry is exactly what it sounds like it is. It's like The Grand Ole Opry COMBINED with catfish. Thus... The Catfish Opry.
From the outside, it's a giant corrugated steel building. It looks like your standard warehouse or industrial location. There was a big sign out front and a gravelly parking lot full of pickup trucks. The moon was shining, the crickets were chirping, and sweet country music was filtering out across the cool night air. As we approach the entrance, the gospel & bluegrass & rockabilly get alittle louder every time the door opens. It's live bands playing live music and it sounds like they're really getting down in there.
When you walk in, you pay your $12 and then step over to the all-you-can eat catfish buffet. There's breaded catfish and blackened catfish. There's coleslaw and hushpuppies. There's black eyed peas, butter beans, fried okra, and turnip greens (whatever that is). Of course there's cornbread and fried chicken and sweet tea too. It's a Mississippi smorgasbord.
i loaded up my plate and turned to face the auditorium. It looked like there were about two-and-a-half acres of picnic tables lined up from the back where the food was to the front of the stage where the band was playing. It was still early, so there were only a few dozen people there, but it could obviously hold hundreds more. We sat down with our dozen and dug in.
Something happened then. i don't know exactly what it was because i seem to have lost consciousness. Apparently my wife (the woman who knows me and loves me more than any other) loaded her plate with some coleslaw and then sat upwind a bit too close to me. I'd passed out from the krytonite-like fumes. i picked myself up, dusted myself off, and moved another meter down the bench.
While my wife enjoyed her dreadful coleslaw, i dug into my catfish again. It was delicious. For my first helping i ate about five planks of variously prepared catfish, some macaroni, and potato salad. i love potatoes and I'm a potato salad fanatic. This potato salad wasn't as good as i was hoping it'd be (the main problem being it was neither cold nor hot, but a milquetoasty room temperature). The catfish, however, was excellent. For my second helping i got another five or six planks. i also picked up some spice cake and some banana pudding.
That's when it happened again. i sat down next to my wife and a noxious odor hit me. It smelled like... it smelled like it smells when you walk your dog and don't notice that you stepped in something. We DID walk my wife's dog just before we left to come out, but how did i not notice it until now? i tried to look real casual as i lifted up my shoe and leaned over to look, but it was clear. i was about to lift up my other shoe when it hit me again. -Only it was coming from the side, not from underneath. i looked over to my left and saw the most horrifying thing. It was my wife. And heaped there on the fork she was raising to her lips was a putrid pile of poop-smelling Turnip Greens. SERIOUSLY. You are NOT going to put that in your mouth are you? (i gagged alittle when she Did.)
As i sat there struggling to maintain consciousness, i tried to focus on something other than my wife's culinary delights. Of course there was the band. Only thAt band had stepped offstage and there was a guy up there doing Gospel karaoke. He was a pretty good entertainer, but kept hawking his services again and again and again. I'm sure his CD and website are pretty professional, but it was alittle underwhelming to see the guy (inbetween his "commercials") keep referring to lyrics sheets. Either you're a pro or you're not (am i right?).
Up next was the Kenny Rogers No-Stars Band. i dunno if that's what they were called, but that's what was in my head as i watched them. There were three guitarists (not counting bass) who all seemed to have different ideas about what they should be playing -so their music was all over the place. We heard Merle Haggard, Chuck Berry, and Guy Lombardo in the same set. It was alittle weird. They say you get what you pay for and, unfortunately, we hadn't paid anything to see them. That being said, they had far more musical talent than i do and i suppose i should be grateful for their efforts.
By the time the next gospel performer came up, we knew it was time to go. We had to get back to the ranch in time for the presidential debate. It was going to be the Atlantan progressives hunkering down with the Mississippi conservatives. This should be interesting. -Only it wasn't. Everybody was pretty respectful and well-behaved and the debate itself was alittle too civil. The highlight of the event seemed to be all the local TV feeds hyping the Ole Miss connection (Joan's dad's alma mater and the setting for the debate). Yay Mississippi.
It wasn't nearly as bad as i expected.
It was pretty alright.
(All things considered.)