The late Jim Dickinson, second from left, sits with (left to right) son Luther, wife Mary Lindsay, and son Cody. Jim’s good buddy Lightin’ the basset hound is seated center. For more on the piano* that served as the centerpiece for this photograph, see below. Photo by Art Meripol.

Memphis and the greater world of music lost one of its most knowledgeable, talented, and entertaining denizens last week. James Luther Dickinson died Saturday, August 15, at his home outside of Coldwater, MS.

Jim leaves his wife Mary Lindsay and their two sons, Luther and Cody, who many music fans know as the guitarist and drummer, respectively, for the North Mississippi Allstars. He also leaves us all with music he’s written, performed, recorded, and produced, having played with such icons as Bob Dylan and The Rolling Stones, and worked with bands, such as The Replacements and Memphis’ own Big Star.

Okay, so this is really cool.  I caught wind about the Southwest Airlines Wi-Fi, but it didn't cross my mind this morning when I hopped the plane from B'ham to Dallas.  

Then, Bam!  Here I am, blogging in real time from the skies.  Their wi-fi homepage shows me the progress of the flight.  (It's 8:15 a.m., we're going 450 mph, our ETA to Love Field is 68 minutes, it's dark, and we're wearing sunglasses...)  During this testing period, the service is as free as the two packs of peanuts sitting on my tray. 

Now, what could I write about?  The guy in 12D holds his newspaper close to his face.  The woman in 13D brought cheese crackers.  She offered me one, but I politely declined. 

I never promised the post would be exciting. Just cool.

Some people think of Oxford and immediately think of The Square, The Grove, and Ole Miss. For me, Oxford is a bastion of Mississippi culture and great Southern dining. So it disheartens me to report that Yocona River Inn, one of the community's culinary landmarks, was destroyed by fire on on Thursday, March 12.

(photo by Robbie Caponetto)

“Everybody wants to know when they will win the lottery," said Margaret "Miss Maggie" Burkley. "It’s not the winning or the losing, though. It’s the playing of the game.”

SL Photographer Robbie Caponetto and I sat down with Miss Maggie last March while researching our story The Allure of Natchez in the March '09 issue.  We found her, because when we asked locals about the unique personalities and characters, they all recommended we make an appointment to see her at her pink house on the bluff. 

Why?  She was the town psychic, and even though I called ahead, I had a feeling she knew we were coming... 

The first thing John David Montgomery ever gave me was a pair of red chopsticks.  To be fair, they were the only things he ever gave me.  To be even fairer, he tried to give me a Bud Light when last I saw him, but I politely passed.  I still had a ways to go on the bottle in my hand...

I don't understand the Blues. I don't know the Blues. My dad only played country music on our car trips growing up. I listened to Mariah Carey and REM and Crash Test Dummies as a teenager. And now the songwriters I drift towards like Bon Iver might put Howlin Wolf and Buddy Guy to sleep. It wasn't until I heard Solomon Burke sing "How I Got to Memphis" - a song that to this very day makes me want to call the river city home, just for a little stint, to feel the hurting truth of King Solomon - that the Blues knocked on my door. But even as I write this, the soft, cottony talking Blues angel in my backseat mumbles two words. Muddy. Waters. Yessir, Muddy Waters, my friend.

Yesterday I hit the red leather-bound volumes of Southern Living, starting at the top left corner of the shelves in 1966. What I found felt very much like a time capsule.

Last Friday all eyes were on Ole Miss as the two Presidential candidates opened the debate season in Oxford, Mississippi. If you are wondering what the scene in the little Delta jewel looked and felt like, one Ole Miss senior took nonpartisan notes for Southern Living in the tailgate-like atmosphere.

Recently, Time Magazine (a publication owned by our parent company) published a story titled, "50 Authentic American Experiences." These huge types of magazine articles always intrigue me. Rarely do I not grab the magazine or click on the story to see what editors spotlight as the best BBQ in Texas, the greatest songwriters of all-time, or America's favorite beaches. I love the breadth of expertise and the narrowing down of opinions.

Time, though, missed the mark, especially in the South. I'll offer my thoughts and you can decide.

Shop, stroll, and eat 'til your buttons burst in this town that treats strangers like friends. A rock star in the constellation of Delta darlings, Oxford, Mississippi is the small town other towns hope to be. Basking under the glow of Ole Miss’s iconic reputation, this stop provides the low-key getaway I crave before summer’s end.

(Photos by Jennifer V. Cole and Kathryn Cole)

This week, on a twisty stretch of Highway 21 outside Philadelphia, Mississippi, the 119-year-old Neshoba County Fair celebrates the very essence of Southern hospitality (July 25-August 1). I've been going since I was 3-months-old, and I can tell you, there's a reason it's known as "Mississippi's Giant House Party." For seven days, folks do a lot of eating (fried foods required), drinking (you might find some 'shine), front porch sittin', and late-night pickin'. It's a time to slow down. To forget laptops and cell phones. And to practice the art of conversation and storytelling on a lazy summer day. I just spent a weekend at the Fair catching up with friends and chasing around after my nieces and nephews (I've got the red-clay-stained feet to prove it), and I can't think of a better place to be in the month of July. If you've never been, add it to your list.  If you have been, you know exactly what I'm talking about.

Here are a few photos of life at the Fair:

(Photo of Charleston's Beard-winner, Hominy Grill, by Shayna Anne)

Foodie powers-that-be recently announced this year's James Beard Awards, the highest culinary accolade out there, America's meal medal of honor. The shindig, which you can see via pictures on the JB Foundation website, looked to be a real tony affair, with the tops of our nation's restauranteurs/chefs/food writers toasting their love of cuisine. And once again the  contingent who call our proud region home showed up bigtime at the celebration.

(Photo by Bill McKinney)

I always wondered how Mississippi--and in particular, Greenville--grew such a large crop of brilliant writers, such as Shelby Foote, Walker Percy, Ellen Douglas, etc. etc.  After a recent visit to that Delta city, I found the answer in a terrific independent bookstore.  McCormick Book Inn, overseen by curmudgeonly Hugh McCormick, is only too happy to enlighten the curious.

(Photos by Bill McKinney)

Driving through the Mississippi Delta on Hwy. 82, we stopped at a BBQ spot in Indianola. I had heard there was a BB King Museum in the works, and the purveyor of pork at Big Daddy's BBQ told us just where it was--101 South Sunflower Avenue.

I was standing in Natchez--Under The Hill, to be exact--when the sky went pastel as the sun set behind the far banks of the Mississippi River. Cross that bridge, and you'll find yourself in Louisiana. Vidalia.