The Port Gibson Oasis
       548 ran into 18 and 18 ran into Port Gibson. At the intersection of 18 and US 61 Ray smelled onions cooking. This immediately put the Hunt for Patriot Stones on the back burner and finding lunch on the front.  We both decided to look further than the  healthy sandwitch chain which was within sight. We agreed to go to the Port Gibson Tourist Information site on Church St. Mercy, the lady in the place knew her stuff. We explained that loose ends were presenting themselves and that the success of the Plan was now in her hands. She pulled out book after book on the local cemetery reisidences and when she felt that she could not answer one of Ray's questions, she directed us to Mrs. Crisler. But, first she suggested several cures for our immediate need, lunch. Her first suggestion of a light meal, measureing our girth, was rejected. Then she suggested Grants, since recognized by Billy as being, truly, the better place to eat in PG. It was from which the onion smell had originated, a bit north of the intersection of 18 and 61 on the west side. The name "Grant's" may be a give away to the owner's appreciation of a certain general, although that is specualttive.
   It was one thirty and this was leftovers. Rhonda is the chef, spelled, R-h-o-n-d-a. She spelled her name for me as I told her she would now be world famous. The sweet potato was gone.  I figured dessert was gone, also. I know it must have been bread pudding or lemon ice-box pie. Later I would learn, coblers. Dern.
    She smiled when I chose dark meat.
   Then it was off to the newspaper, The Port Gibson Reveille  and Port Gibson Gas Co.. Each having their own contacts mentioned in the Tourist Center.
     Mrs Crisler was the Spring of the Oasis. She spouted forth with a flow so fast that I could not
adequately absorb. I yelped. She moved to her desk and sat down at her typewriter. It exploded with a rap which could only be compared to a sub-machine gun. In a few minutes she had the information on paper offering to join us at the cemetery sensing that we were numb and unable to actually follow written directions. Perceptive lady.
We arrived at the cemetery and waited at the gate.  Behind us stood Mrs.Crisler, waiting for us.
Come this way!
  Mrs. Crisler, besides being "big" DAR,  also guides the yearly Cemetery Tour.
We had hit gold. She and her husband had run the paper for 40, some say more, years. If there was a Port Gibson expert, we were in her midst.  The Plan was now safely stable and proceeding with professional integrity. This was awing.
  She routed us by the angel, which I would learn from Barry, has wandering eyes, something Mrs. Crisler had not mentioned. I guess that would come with the Tour. Or maybe not.
    Our next destination would be Bruinberg and the mounds cemetery at Windsor. We tried and she tried to conatact the owner of both. We were unsuccessful and dark was falling.  We did not want to be mistaken for two fat bucks wandering well posted and manned grounds.
   All of that is very nice but you can't get there  because of what we'd learn from Billy and Mrs.Crisler. His notes are below with the names of the parties involved excluded. We hope to make friends with these people in the future and truly respect their right to property and peace. Billy's notes below give an insight as to how important local connections can be. As a tourist, you can only penetrate the outer layers of information.
  Bill would share this wih us about Windsor:
  " I know  "the owner" a little, my uncle knows him pretty
well.  "Another fella" I have known for 20 plus years.  I
know where the "other family"  lives.  He was some kind of
military hero himself, I think.  "The present owner" as well as
the "family"  at Bruinsburg don't let many people on their
property, period.  It would be something to get permission to see the cemeteries on their places.
............  I could get us on that part for sure if there is any historical stuff on it. "The present owner of the Windsor Mounds" came in several years ago, bought up all that land, then fenced it with tall, deer-proof fences to keep everything in and people out.  He has men working there that do nothing but keep people out and make sure his deer get big.
  "Grants probably has the best food available in Port
Gibson but a lot of people won't even go in there. 
They have the best cobblers I ever had, if you can
save room for it.  Did Mrs. Crisler take you inside
the Catholic church in Port Gibson?  Rezin Bowie has a
lot of woodcarving in there I want to see.  Mrs.
Crisler and her husband "Scoop" have written the paper
for at least 50 or 60 years in Port Gibson, if not
longer.  unfortunately, he died a few years ago.

   I want you and Ray to come back.  There are a lot of
things I would like to show you around Vicksburg, Port
Gibson, and Natchez.  Can't do all that in one day
though.  Might take several days in fact.  bring your
wives too. This area up here is so different from where
you live.  I don't realize it until I hear about what
we take for granted from a visitor.  If you want to
plan a trip when hunting season is over, let me know
and I will take several days off.    We could make the
dates tentative until the time is closer and pick out
some days with the best weather".
Which one of these folks do we write to for permission to visit the graves at Windsor?
   Ray wrote in a tizzy I suspect, "We shot pictures of the wrong marker.  James Calcotte Sr. (D: 1830) served with Francis Marion (the Swamp Fox) during the AR.  His son, James Jr. (d:1838) served in the War of 1812".

   I'd just left it, you wouldn't have noticed, anyway.
  I am so glad Ray recognized the situation and we did not proceed down that path to destiny.
   Below is a funny Ray related after looking over the pictures. It should in no way reflect negatively on the success that this trip was. So what if we clearly saw "1812" and both shot it.
Billy further added, making our suspicions valid.
     I suspect Ray will decide that the Southwestern Segmentof the PatriotStone Project-Plan will be continued when Hunting Season is over.
   Above is the last picture of the evening, Light was dimming quickly as we followed the unprejudiced Garmin GPS across MS. The green portions below are National Forest where the roads turned to dirt. Garmin doesn't see dirt.
The Plan didn't either. The Plan was not Perfect, but Perfect is boring. This ride was not boring, so I guess it was Perfect. I often box myself in on these ride discriptions, the site if full of them. But I'm not Perfect which would be boring. Take it from there. He, he!
   If the 200 miles of riding and 100 miles of walkig and hours of talking wasn't enough, we got up the next morning and rode another 70 or 80, finding some more near Brookhaven, then we split up, I dragging the camper home and Ray went off on another adventure on his way home, 180 miles away.
    This was the first test of how to search for the Paatriot Stones. We learned a lot, including the need to off  the pace a little in the future.   Maybe we'll "dig" a little deeper.
     Ray says that he will use the next few weeks to develope more plans. If they work as well as his first try, they will be successes, also. Now that I've seen a success my perceptions have changed. I've learned they envolve work. Let me think about that.
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