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| Wesson, MS. 8:10:36 AM |
| Observations: Mississippi has different driving requirements. The women are the same. Checking make-up before going to the gas pump is par. Waiting for them is par. |
| Inside the Wesson Shop, our leader, obviously donning his obvious disguise, for what purpose I have yet to learn, is seen gathering supplies for the trip. Twinkies, Mars Bars and three pounds of boiled peanuts were toted to the voluminous Jessie Bags, where a forceful slam was heard, securring the booty for the ride. |
| Ray had written a while back asking me to take a picture of the old school at Wesson. He explained that Wesson was a very advanced community having electrical lighting before Washington, D.C. The school had been built to resemble the facilities of the business which was responcible for the advancement of the town. Ray further explained that train travelers were amazed to see the lighted town approach as they rode on the night train from New Orleans to Chicago. That train would be called, if not then, The City of New Orleans, previously mentioned in this rag. Ray, what was that industry? Don't tell me Wesson Oil. Peanut oil? |
| Ray and I took 37 pictures of the school. My picture won due to me being the judge. |
| Ray, wandering away from the school, saw a cemetery, one he had not marked as having one of our pursuitees in residence. It pulled him. "Later" was the agreement. Visiting every cemetery in Mississippi could get drawn out and I know the artist. |
| I think our next destination was Crystal Springs. On this stretch we had to stop and ask directions from our first native. Ray thought he was drunk. He addressed me as "young man", obviously confirming Ray's assessment. But he did know where the cemetery was. |
| Our first prize was marked. This one was easy and inspiring. Ones down the road were in sadder states. Notice that even the flag is correct. Ray did the paperwork and shot pictures, I recoreded the exact locations on the GPS. We were a well oiled machine. I felt this thing had promise. |
| Second road on top of the hill. Here is a scene which would be repeated all day. I love these "roads". They look so Plain Jane and end up yeilding such treasures. |
| Below: Ray, searching for that lost Mars Bar Actually, he was plotting our next assault from "The Plan". More than once he would grin and say that we were on track and on schedule. When someone assures me I worry about the need for assurance. I put worry aside as I was already lost and hooked to the barreling Cemetery Train. Resignation is the term. |
| The book would be closed and a sly expression would beam from raised eyes as I approached. Ray measures his rides in RayMiles, a medium of varying definition. Questioning, "Are we there yet?" is totally useless as "there" is a variable whose distance away is a variable. Only Ray can plot that course and he kept it to himself. We were on course and on schedule. Of course we were just at our first stop. |
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