Jackson Free Press

Staying Put

Q. I've been hearing a lot about crime on the evening news. Should I consider moving out of Jackson to raise my children? — Running Scared

A. Fortunately, I've been hearing and seeing a lot more about crime than I've heard and seen of crime itself. And I live in a section that's supposed to be positively crawling with crime. Maybe I'm just lucky, I don't know, but I don't live in fear: I feel safe. I sit on my front porch into the evening and watch the neighbors' young children and my own grandchildren playing happily up and down my street—riding tricycles on the sidewalks, talking to the friendly neighbors, to the postman and trash collectors and meter readers and neighbors mowing their grass and walking their dogs. And we have fine safe public places for kids. My grandkids love our great zoo, the terrific Natural Science Museum, the Agriculture museum, the Planetarium, the Old Capitol, the Mississippi Museum of Art, Smith Robertson museum. I don't know where one would move to find as many of these amenities and a lot less crime.

Don't get me wrong. I do worry about crime in Jackson. Any crime is too much, of course. The horrendous murder last year of Lydie Caldwell was devastating—and we know of other tragedies. But when I think about crime, I think also of the poverty in which too many of our families live. I worry about absentee landlords who let property fall down, enticing drug users and dealers, ruining neighborhoods—and robbing individuals of personal and community pride. I worry about the numbers of our children who do not finish high school and the low performance of so many of our students. These problems all feed into the crime rate, and they must be addressed and solved before we can significantly effect a reduction of crime. What helps one segment of the community helps the entire city.

Black and white, Hispanic and Asian and all the rest; privileged and poor; public and private school; Northeast Jackson and Southwest Jackson—we are all in this together. And we're in for a rough and crime-ridden journey if we don't all help each other with the underlying problems of the whole community and restrain ourselves from fanning the fires of blame and opposition.

Piece de Resistance

Q. What's the best fried chicken in Jackson? — Hungry in Pearl

A. When my Nashville grandchildren—the four wonders belonging to my remarkable son Gibson and the amazing JoDee—came to Jackson in March for their annual spring-break visit, I was determined they'd have a genuine Mississippi experience awaiting them. That means fried chicken, of course.

My own children, now in their 30s, used to complain that I was not a "Cookies-and Milk Mother." Well, they were right. I didn't fry chicken either, but I damned sure was going to be a "Fried Chicken Grandmother."

My dining table was extended to its full length and groaning with enough food to rival the old Revolving Tables in Mendenhall. The piece de resistance was an overflowing platter of the most beautiful, crispiest, tastiest fried-at-home chicken you ever saw or ate.

Since Addison is 5 and the big brother of 2-year-old triplets, I offered him the first choice of chicken.
"What piece would you like, Addison?" I asked. "Do you want a leg or a breast? A second-joint or a wing maybe? Any piece you want—I've got everything."

He perused the veritable feast of real fried chicken, then looked at me a little dubiously, as only a life-long connoisseur of fast-food poultry products could.

"Muddy," he asked hopefully, "do you have any chicken fingers?"

Now, it just so happens that, as I write this, the four darlings and and their mom are making their way south for their summer visit. Can you imagine anything more arduous than driving from Nashville to Jackson with 2-year-old triplets and a 5-year-old? It's just too much for me to wrap my brain around—not to mention my body. JoG, their ever-patient and indefatigable grandfather, has taken on that duty. Me? I'm here at home in the air-conditioned quietness looking up the telephone numbers of every fast-food place in town. I'm about to place the biggest order of chicken fingers ever made in Jackson.

And that's the truth.

Send any question to PO Box 2047, Jackson, MS 39225, or fax to 866/728-4798. Include name and daytime phone number, although it can be withheld.