This is me lurking in the shadows of Doe’s Eat Place, Greenville, Mississippi. Doe’s was originally a honky-tonk, and later a restaurant. On the wrong side of the tracks because Doe himself was Italian, which made him, like the Lebanese and Jews of Greenville, colored folk, the restaurant found itself sneaking white folks in the back door because the steaks were so good. Now anyone can eat at Does, and I do recommend it.
I have spent four days — FOUR DAYS — working out the family tree of Lydia Chin’s Mississippi relations. Its importance to the story means it has to be right but gack it has driven me nuts. I think I’ve finally got it. In its reduced form (a number of branches that don’t make it into the story have been left out) here it is. Now I can get back to writing the damn thing.
Just got back from a trip behind the Magnolia Curtain. Thought you might enjoy some photos while you finish baking that plum pudding. Which I had in Mississippi, and it was delicious. Along with the catfish tacos and the breakfast kibbee and grits.
Me on the Mighty Mississipp.
Cotton is King, even off-season.
Went to research the Delta Chinese community for a new Lydia Chin/Bill Smith book.
Cotton snowperson in Cleveland, MS.
Baptism mural in Helena, Arkansas. Lunching in Helena knocked one more off the list of states I’ve never been in. Down to 4!
The Archangel Michael, though his sword looks like a tie, from a Charles Eames church in Helena.
All is not sweetness and light in Helena, however.
My little cabin away from home, in Clarksdale, MS.
My cabin on left, with the back porch of the Big House on right and the plantation owner, Eric Stone.
Rufous-sided towhee in Eric’s shrubs.
Terra cotta in Helena. The spirit of Prosperity. A touch ironic.
