#3 Hattiesburg

The Hattiesburg of 1979 is not what it is today. Sure, the University of Southern Mississippi is there,

My great-grandfather James Elmo and great-grandmother (Aunt) Pansy (nee Gavin, a second marriage for both of them that gave the world one of my all-time favourite Aunties), died in 1972, one after the other.  My dad was in the Navy at the time and had to take emergency leave twice, the second time flying out on a helicopter with some visiting brass. A chat ensues and one of the admiral's staffers gives my dad a card.  

It's a tricky, heartbreaking time for Jim. He went to live with his maternal grandparents at the age of 9, after his father beat him with a bullwhip. (61 years later, the scars were faint but visible.)  At 12, in 1963, he is adopted by his grandparents, legally making his mother his aunt and causing enoug confusion that some say he may just have helped Ray Stevens write 'I'm My Own Grandpa.' I've always been more partial to 'Mississippi Squirrel,' myself, but what's a girl to do? He loves Aunt Pansy and James Elmo with a fierceness that I don't think he ever learned to share outside of his love of my mother.

He inherits some of the land (more on that another time). Grandpa James Elmo was savvy, owned a saw mill, a cattle ranch and chicken farm, land down on the coast, a shrimping boat called the Lola Sarah (more on that another time). Daddy sells it on, buying an El Camino and land in Hattiesburg. He's working in at the shipyard Mobile and I'm not sure why Hattiesburg appeals, but it does, and he buys it. It will come in handy as leverage to move to Hattiesburg when he starts working with the Mississippi Guard.

My only clear memory of Hattiesburg at this time is visiting that land. My parents had sold the El Camino for a Volkswagen Rabbit and I remember sitting on my dad's shoulders, walking around the land, my mom verbally sketching out what she envisioned.  I remember excitement and hope in her voice. Life is full of possibilities. We are a team in this moment, a family unit moving in harmony. It occurs to me now, 43.5/44 years later, this is my first sensory experience of being in sync with my family unit.

They rent a place in Hattiesburg. My mom tries to find a rhythm but there is a lot of suspicion. 'Oh, a Yankee?' At the grocery store one afternoon, a man in a white robe, carrying his clan hood and small son walk in and make a derogatory comment to the shop clerk. Apparently, I ask my mom what the word is and that night, my mother insists we'll be moving to Gulfport. 

I don't even know how long we were actually in Hattiesburg. I don't think it could have been more than 2 months. Sometimes, you just know it's time to leave.