“Crows are family.” This wasn’t precisely the first utterance from Denton Parkins, but it was certainly the most arresting. He’d already gone through a list of remedies for crows and mice, his major competitors in the pumpkin and strawberry market. Crows, it seems, are wily creatures and sociable; he proposes to me that, “the crows scope us out.” I sense that he and the crows, from long dwelling together, have become familiar with one another’s faces.
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To call Jackson home sometimes feels like a betrayal of the place that taught me the meaning of that word. Two hours east on I-40, home is a small white farmhouse on top of a hill with a porch swing and a bed of roses that welcome you to the front door. At home, the sound of that swing’s rusty metal creaking still steadies me like I imagine the ticking of a metronome does for a novice musician. There are days when I ache for the rhythm of home, just as we gasp for air when deprived of breath.
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It seems like I find myself in a lot of conversations about how much Jackson is growing. You might also hear natives and non-natives alike saying, “Jackson is nothing like it was ten years ago.” I recently found myself in conversation with a new Jackson resident while waiting in a food truck line at the farmers’ market, and the California-native remarked on how young and up-and-coming Jackson feels compared to other small Southeastern towns she’s experienced.
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On a sunny afternoon in the fall Melissa and I found ourselves outside, sitting at a black metal table with a red umbrella, and discussing ideas for “Cultures of Jackson.” As I perused through the calendar looking for some hidden inspiration, my eyes fell upon the dreaded finals week in December, but something else also caught my eye. With a mischievous grin I looked up at Mel and said, “Hey . . .did you know Hanukkah is in December this year?”
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Upbeat music pounded against the walls and colorful lights flashed as we (Kimberly and Melissa) found ourselves on a dance floor. People of all ages and various ethnicities surrounded us as we all did dance motions to the best of our abilities. Women in bright traditional Indie dress flashed smiles as their friends joined the circle. A small boy laughed as he bounded from one side of the stage to the other and dodged between peoples’ legs.
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