A few weeks ago, rather than face the rigors of making New Year resolutions, my wife and I fled to the Caribbean. We took flight from Mississippi and sailed from Miami on the Seven Seas Explorer, a ship of the Regent line.We put aside impending obligations, such as rounding up income tax materials, getting the gutters cleaned and disposing of downhill skiing equipment unused since before the century turned.
It’s easier to procrastinate down there in Jimmy Buffet World, and there’s really not much for old folks to do beyond showing up for meals, and even those events are flexible. On shore, you can tour a distillery that makes a crabapple-based liqueur called Bismolica or Crampico or something, or you can down a cooling Captain Morgan’s Tongue Thickener at one of the many festive outdoor bars.
If you remain aboard ship or are at sea, the ship has a fitness center. I never actually found the exercise room, but it was pleasant to put on shorts, T-shirt and running shoes and then sit on the balcony and contemplate weight reduction. Inevitably, my mind wandered. A wandering mind is as good as a brisk walk, given a well-developed ability to rationalize. At such times it is normal to think of home.
Thinking of home is not the same as homesickness, which can make you morose and depressing at mealtimes. None of your tablemates wants to hear you lament that you miss Tupelo and are upset that you can’t just jump into the SUV and drive over to Elvis’s birthplace. Taking a positive approach is far more productive: I tell my new friends that the new Costco store coming to our neighborhood is every bit as handsome as most Mississippi correctional facilities.
I enjoyed telling people about my idea to found the Scarlett O’Hara Society, an organization that would aim to reduce the guilt laid-back Mississippians feel when they put off renewing their concealed-carry permit or getting the F-150’s oil changed. “Put off” is what Southerners say when they mean procrastinate.
My new organization’s motto would be “Cras Faciam,” Latin for “Do it tomorrow.” Gone with the Wind fans may believe that Scarlett would say, “I’ll think about that tomorrow,” but true procrastinators will never find time to think that far.
When you tell people you’re from Mississippi, it causes a long pause if not a complete stop in the conversation. I think this is because (a.) they’ve never been here and didn’t think we had actual people, or (b.) they believe we all got arrested and sent to prison in that Whoopi Goldberg movie. Whatever the explanation, ignorance of Mississippi is a genuine phenomenon.
I usually try to put these folks at ease by humming a couple B.B. King tunes or offering them a handful of grits, but a more effective conversational ice breaker is telling them how much fun the Magnolia State can be and inviting them to visit here.
I imagine myself saying, “We can ride over to Shucker’s and watch the sheriff arrest rednecks.” Or if I think the visitors are real fun seekers, I envision visiting any restaurant in the tri-county area, ordering up a bottle of wine, and then watching the hapless server try to open it.
I could see taking the visitors to a good rib joint and watching them stab themselves with a knife and fork instead of just grabbing and gnawing like we do. Seeing how strangers handle finding a roll of paper towels on the table might also be a hoot.
But those are fantasies. On the cruise ship, I just try to be a good lad and represent my state with some common sense and good humor — two qualities found in abundance in Mississippi. I tell them how easy it is to take the City of New Orleans, that we have a lieutenant governor named Delbert and that we used the ballot box to avoid having a lieutenant governor who was an Elvis impersonator.
The day comes when we bid farewell to our shipmates, sometimes with a sincere, “Y’all come see us,” and then it’s back to all those tasks I’d been putting off. I’m planning to have those resolutions done no later than year’s end. Wish me well.
William Jeanes is a Northsider.
