|Headed down the Blues Highway and back to Louisiana in May, 1998. Near Hollandale, Mississippi. |
When ole Muddy sang, "Going down to Louisiana. Get me a mojo hand," this is the way he went. New Orleans is about 250 miles thataway.
(That's not my camper.)
|This is the brass plaque beside the gazebo in front of the Rolling Fork, Mississippi, courthouse.|
This plaque is the only visible evidence of Rolling Fork's pride in its most famous son.
|Take a look at Muddy's gazebo. That's Muddy's brass plaque between the gazebo and the street. It's located on China Street in Rolling Fork. I took the photo from a position
near the front door of Sam Sing's Grocery.|
After I snapped the photo, I walked across the street and up to the 3 black men you can see relaxing in the shade of Muddy's gazebo. I then said, "I know y'all gonna think this is a dumb question, but what kind of music do y'all like?"
A 30ish man with bushy sideburns General Burnside would have been proud of said, "Don't care
nothin' fer no kind."
A 30ish man who looked like he just crawled from beneath a tractor and probably did said, "I don't
care 'bout none of it, but if somebody's sittin' 'round playin' it I'll listen."
A 50ish and neatly dressed man who looked like a cowboy and probably was said, "I always
liked blues and I like jazz, but this rap crap I don't like at all. I can sit an' get quiet an'
listen to the blues."
Hey, I've got lots in common with that Rolling Fork fellow!
|I found this relic in a junkyard beside Highway 82 a few miles east of Greenville, Mississippi. |
For some damned reason I took the photo in low resolution. The words you can't read say, "You stab 'em--we slab 'em."
|Near Swiftwater, Mississippi.|
Here's one solution to living in a flood-prone area such as the Delta--build your house on an Indian burial mound.
I wonder if these rich white folks ever hear eerie noises at night.