Musings at Altitude

Throughout my life I’ve played to the stereotype of folks from Mississippi.  I’ve been known to say, “I’m from Mississippi, so please speak slower.”  Or, “in my Mississippi math, it comes out to ________”.  I’d then smile and folks would nod knowing exactly what I meant or exactly what I was joking about.  But over the last few years, I’ve begun looking at Mississippi and thinking about Mississippi very differently – though some of my old habits in cracking jokes about Mississippi haven’t yet stopped.

I grew up on the Mississippi Gulf Coast, born in Biloxi and raised through grade school in Gulfport.  I was able to walk to elementary school and ride my bike to junior high and high school, and my entire world centered around school on weekdays, church on Wednesdays and Sundays, and roaming the neighborhood in summers.   In 1969, I lived through Hurricane Camille on the beach front in the Buena Vista Hotel as my Dad worked feverishly to fill sand bags to try and block the tidal surge that was inevitably coming.  He and the staff gave up when they recognized it was a valient attempt at stopping an unstoppable force, and then they all evacuated the lower floors to get upstairs.  We lived that night, huddled on the second floor on the hotel, but the hotel never recovered from the hurricane.

When I was old enough to work, I went to work.  As with most of my friends, faith and church were core to who we were, and church was not option.  Of course, school was not an option either.  When I left my troubled first six years of school behind, my Dad sat me down and said I would need to do my part to pay for college.  He would not be able to pay for it.  It wasn’t long after that when a Liaison Officer for the Air Force Academy showed up at my junior high school and a picture of the Academy went up on my wall.  For those last 6 years of grade school, I had one goal – get to the Academy.

I remember one day in the spring of 1978 when I got paged over the school intercom system with an announcement that Representative Trent Lott was on the phone for me.  I also remember to this day my English teacher at that time saying, “he can wait” since she was of a different political persuasion, and making me wait the final 10 minutes of class before letting me go to the phone.  Much to my surprise, Representative Lott was holding, and he quickly informed me that I had received an appointment to the Air Force Academy.  I still remember the excitement I felt which slowly changed to anxiety as I realized I’d be leaving Mississippi, leaving the security of home, and heading to a part of the world which I had never seen before except in those pictures of the Academy.  My Academy years were spent locked up in school, and then, when I got those rare breaks, I’d rush home to Mississippi.  There was an awful lot of comfort there and an awful lot of love from both my folks and my friends. 

Because of Mississippi, I made it to the Academy.  Because of the Academy, I had the opportunity to travel the world in the Air Force, to work at the Pentagon as young officer, to work in the overhead reconnaisance business in space launch communications and to work in the White House as a military communications officer.  Because of the military, I made it into business and I’ve worked all over the country and all over the world since. 

At school and in each job, the education I received, the understanding of real faith that I gained, and the lessons in humility and persistence that I learned in Mississippi provided a foundation for life that was unbeatable.  Even more importantly, my best friend and life long companion also came from Mississippi – my wife!

As I look back today, even with the great foundation I was provided, I made no real effort to understand Mississippi.  I was and in many ways still am ignorant about my home state.  But in spite of that self induced ignorance, I can tell you this…when I see the resilience in folks in my home town today as they rebuild from Katrina, I’m proud.  When I see the commitment to carrying on traditions and to rebuilding lives, I’m proud.  When I see the laser like focus on recovery – with or without the help of the federal government – I’m proud.  And when I get to visit my Mom and Dad and my wife’s Dad back home, I’m proud.

I’m blessed to be from Mississippi, and I’m grateful for the opportunities I have today to visit Mississippi for work and for vacation.  I’m also thankful for those who are working on folks like me to change the stereotypes.  One such campaign is the “Mississippi, Believe It” campaign which was built to inform both those in and from Mississippi and those from elsewhere about the real Mississippi.  When you get a chance, stop by and take a look.  The Cirlot Agency did a tremendous job of addressing the common stereotypes of folks from Mississippi and providing the true picture.  Here’s the web site – http://www.mississippibelieveit.com/faq/.

I’m sure in the coming months and years I’ll still stoop to my old habits and make some of my “I’m from Mississippi” comments.  But maybe with time and more learning about my home state, those statements will morph to a new meaning and I’ll say that with a real understanding of Mississippi rather than ignorance.