Jackson Free Press

I was always that kid who stuck out in school. With my glasses as thick as ashtrays and my disheveled hair, I was constantly slipping on social banana peels wherever I walked. I was clumsy and silly, but eager to run around barefoot and climb the trees, constantly searching for a place where I felt more at ease with my peculiarities. I often took refuge on our family farm in Hurley, Miss., knowing that the horses didn't care about my awkward inclinations.

In high school I moved to Jackson with my single mother, and we lived on McDowell Road in Creekside Apartments. I began public school at Forest Hill High and quickly found that I was still the oddball, but to my surprise, there were others like me. We reveled in our individuality and united together. There were jaunts to Rocky Springs and the "POW" camp in Clinton that filled my mind with memories and with hope and a sense of belonging. My Power APAC teachers taught me to use my creativity and problem-solving abilities to fuel my progress. My English teacher encouraged me to write about my atypical thoughts and ideas. Others read my words. I felt confident in my own skin for the first time in my young life here in Jackson.

I left Jackson many years ago to attend graduate school. I made my home in Austin, Texas, for seven wonderful years, without a boring day to be had. I enjoyed art galleries, bicycle lanes and concerts, and I began my career there.

Powerless is the only way I can describe the way I felt when I saw Katrina's angry waters destroy my young life's memory banks. I was too far away in Austin to do anything for anyone. I needed to get home to help my family cope with their losses and their broken hearts. Frantically, I tried to coordinate with my sister plans of gas tanks and first aid, food and blankets. Could I ship these things? Was there even a post office? Would I be contributing to the overall problem?

Mama lost everything when Katrina destroyed her little beach house in Bay St. Louis. Dad worked tirelessly at Singing River Hospital in Pascagoula helping to minister to the sick. I was so knotted with worry that I sobbed for days and had to be told not to watch the news anymore by friends who saw me anguishing over my home state's decimation. My Austin friends knew I was a Mississippi girl. Faulkner and Welty filled my bookshelves. Walter Inglis Anderson hung on the walls of my house.

During September the thought of coming home to Jackson mounted. My family needed me. I dreaded leaving my house, my friends and my relationship. It was soul-crushing when I decided to sell everything I owned, with the exception of my car and dog, and make that nine-hour drive back home to Jackson.

My friends didn't understand why I needed to move home to Mississippi when I had built my own life in Austin, but they had never experienced down home Mississippi either. If Mama lost everything to the muddy waters at 63, then I could surely do the equivalent at 29.

Not even two weeks after my return to Jackson, I am here in my Mama's new house. Her spirit is strong, and her eyes are still filled with fire. She has welcomed my arrival with the same deep understanding she has always had for me. Rash decisions and a raw heart have filled my life since Katrina. I hear the stories from everyone back here in Mississippi about how this massive swirling water bomb has flooded their personal lives, and I know my story is not unique. We all share in this pain, and when I tell my story here, people shake their heads in a knowing manner. These folks from my past embrace me and know exactly why I am back home.

I've been gone for some time, and let me tell you, Jackson has changed. I looked forward to being closer to my family, but knew I would miss the exceptional cultural atmosphere of Austin. I thought I would have difficulty finding things that are important to me, like healthy foods and artistic influences. I had no idea what I would be coming home to, but Jackson is a much better place than when I left.

The Fondren area took me by surprise with its colorful additions. I enjoyed the ARTMix and was totally impressed with the amount of local talent that resides here. New boutiques, retail shops, eclectic bookstores, artists' studios and yoga: It's budding into a scene. I strolled into Rainbow Whole Foods Co-op, where I worked years ago. It has transformed into the place to find the food I love to eat. Their membership has increased as Jackson has become more progressive, and the addition of High Noon Café is a fantastic surprise.

Friendly faces from my past greet me with a hospitality that is not found in many places anymore. I went to see some bands play and visited a friend in his awesome loft at the Ironworks Building. Jackson has the potential to become a unique hub of influence in the Deep South if enough support is breathed into our downtown.

Previous Comments

ID

71071

Comment

May I be the first to say (well on here at least) welcome home! We've missed you- I wish the circumstances were different. Excellent perspective on Jackson then and now-and homecoming. I hope to see more of your writings and musings. I know it's not to the degree of what you are experiencing , but I miss Austin too. Thank goodness for Fondren :)

Author

MANGUM

Date

2005-11-30T21:34:04-06:00

ID

71072

Comment

J, I'm with Trey... Welcome home. Let's get together for some cocktails and let the pups play (will call you very soon). Long live Thunderchicken!

Author

kaust

Date

2005-12-01T12:54:58-06:00

ID

71073

Comment

I hope to see more of Jerusha's writings and musings as well. ;-) In fact, let's all celebrate her homecoming tonight at the ArtMix, then at Operation Shoestring benefit. Get y'all's butts on out here. And I would add, thank goodness for Fondren and Downtown. I think next we should be thanking goodness for Fondren, Downtown and all those old houses being renovated by diverse folks in Poindexter. Hint, hint. Great view of the city, all. I won't even ask about Thunderchicken. I think you had to be in high school in South Jackson a few years back to understand. ;-D

Author

DonnaLadd

Date

2005-12-01T13:23:23-06:00

ID

71074

Comment

Hey Hey, Austin comes to Jackson on Friday, Dec. 9. American Analog Set will be playing if your feeling homesick.

Author

herman

Date

2005-12-01T13:24:43-06:00

ID

71075

Comment

A few years back? You're too kind!

Author

kaust

Date

2005-12-01T13:48:12-06:00

ID

71076

Comment

Aww ya'll make me blush! Thanks for all the encouragement and I do plan on writing more in the near future. I am glad to be home and to be a part of Jackson again. Now, about those bike lanes...

Author

jdegroote

Date

2005-12-02T09:28:52-06:00

ID

71077

Comment

J, there are bike lanes in Ridgeland... There's also bike lanes on Old Canton in Fondren. What I'd love to see is the triangle of roads connected by bike lanes (Old Canton, State, and Meadowbrook) as well as a lane going straight through Belhaven into the business district. I've been told that's a pipe dream but whatever. ;-) If you like to ride for exercise, a friend and I were discussing cycling parts of the southern Trace soon. Leisurely and nothing too hardcore.

Author

kaust

Date

2005-12-02T09:33:42-06:00

ID

71078

Comment

There's also the Longleaf Trace between Prentiss and Hattiesburg.

Author

Ex

Date

2005-12-02T09:58:40-06:00