Tour Guide

I had my first gig as a tour guide Tuesday morning when I received a delightful visit from the irrepressible Anna VanWinkle who came all the way from Las Vegas, Nevada, or was it Seattle, Washington? to see me and visit my catfish swimming pond. Well, that's the truth and if you don't believe it you can ask my momma.

Actually, I had given up on her after we corresponded via Facebook several times but she failed to show. I first expected her last week and then I expected her yesterday. When she didn't show Monday, I thought she decided to pass through without stopping. But Tuesday morning out of the blue while I was drinking coffee and trying to hatch a plot for some sort of fun, a new message from my DYST? friend came through. "I am finally in your area," she said. "Are you swimming or running or drinking coffee?"

To make a short story long, I tracked her down (it took some real detective work) and led her and her long truck and longer trailer back to Mom's house where there was room to park. After a quick greeting and a basic question, "How long do you have?" we were off in my old and dirty truck.

"You rode her in that truck?" my wife exclaimed the next morning. "I will never be able to look at her in the face!"

It's not that bad is it Anna? In my defense, I'd rather train than to clean a ten year old truck. At my age you have to make choices. I choose training.

Anna with her tour guide at Steven's

I thought better of my initial offer to take her to Waffle House and chose Steven's Barbecue instead where she ate breakfast, I had more coffee, and I told her a couple of the lurid local lawyer tales that I still can't believe haven't been made into movies.

Be that as it may, we left Steven's and rode down Howard Street, Greenwood's "most urbane" as I described it before crossing the bridge and taking a tour of houses and streets that appear in "The Help." Then it was out Money Road for a stop at Robert Johnson's grave and my commentary on how I wanted to get T-shirts made up that say, "Sell your soul to the devil and be somebody!" Next we went to downtown Money and saw Ben Roy's Service and the Emmett Till store and marker.

If you read this blog or posts in DYST? you should be able to guess what comes next. Drum roll. Yes, we rode over to the fish farm and she got to see first hand a Mississippi Delta catfish pond. And not just any pond, mind you, but the one I actually swim in. To celebrate, we both taped our noses, like I do when I swim any open water, and took a plethora of selfies on the banks of the warm commercial waters. How could it get any batter? Well, we could have swum, but she said, "No," and being a gentleman, I didn't protest.

Double selfie at the pond

After all the farm fun, we drove back to town, to Mom's, where she met my sisters, Mom, and Nancy Webb Phillips and we feasted on leftovers and banana pudding. We chatted, Anna played the piano, and then she left. Her visit was nice, too brief, but a nice relief from the ordinary.

So to all you people I know through Facebook but have never met in person, do like Anna and drive your truck or car to Mississippi and give me a call. I'll show you the sights and take you swimming if you are not too particular about your hair. I'll even feed you and take you to meet my mom. 

And I always supply the tape. Always.