On a rainy day when I was a precocious eleven years of age, my mother, tired of my nagging about how I was sooooo bored, shoved a worn out copy of Harper Lee's "To Kill a Mockingbird" into my hands. As they say, the rest is history. Some folks have the bible as a map of life but I have been guided since that day by a simple story with simple people and a simple town. My saints and prophets have been Scout, Atticus, Jem and Boo Radley. I have always had fantasies about meeting these characters or at least coming close to the town and surroundings of Harper Lee's Maycomb County. Who only knew I would be destined to be sent to a sleepy little Southern town that mirrored what had only been before a mere figment of my imagination.

The town of Historic Bay Saint Louis is nestled close to the Gulf and even closer to the bridge that links it to Gulfport and Biloxi, or the other world. Once your feet hit the Main Street, you suddenly morph back a couple generations. You enter a town reminiscent of a pre-World War II age, with crisp American flags blowing gently in the sea breeze, weathered men in overalls rubbing their necks and talking slowly to friends and neighbors on verandas. The shrill whistle of the train sounds almost every half hour as the Union pacific comes hurtling through the middle of the town. Sure, there are signs of new-age changes and stores catering to the tourists. You can't live in the past forever, right? Yet, when I walk into a local greasy spoon, the waitress calls me "hon" and knows pretty much everyone else and their orders by heart. The small streets are bordered by thick oaks and sweeping willow trees, the flowers are still fresh and pungent in late November and I am always greeted by a chorus of "Hello's" from every stranger who crosses my path. As I walk, I sometimes fully expect to see Atticus rounding the corner from the Courthouse with Scout and Jem running to greet him.

Yes, it is a silly childhood fantasy to try and conjure something fictional into reality and yes, I do know that the Wal-Mart and the other cookie-cutter chain of stores will greet me only a few blocks away, but I still can't help but feel blessed that I saw this place and came close to seeing what Harper Lee saw back in 1960 when she wrote that beautiful book. Rounding a corner one day, I stood facing a great oak tree with a knot-hole inside. Maybe life can imitate art after all.