Articles by Roger Truesdale
Jerry Lee “Duff” Dorrough passed away Wednesday in Ruleville. He’d had a tough last year or two. He fought the good fight.
Last Sunday morning I called some friends to invite myself over for Sunday dinner. More often than not, every third Sunday or so their dinner table is covered with garden-fresh vegetables, fried pork chops, chicken or meatloaf and to-die-for desserts. I’m blessed to have friends that don’t mind my barging in (I think?).
Like most of you, I voted a week or so ago. To be honest, I almost didn’t. I got home Tuesday mid-afternoon and settled in to the comfort of the air conditioner. Suddenly, that “forgotten to do something” alarm started beeping like a smoke detector in need of a new battery. I tried to ignore it.
On Wednesday afternoon, a tumultuous thunderstorm blew through. I was at the computer staring at the screen, doing my best to conjure up something to amuse you with before you have to leave for church later this morning.
A few years back, I subscribed to Netflix. Soon after Only Daughter and Third Favorite Child, who was living at home for a spell (too long), ordered one. She used it to stream Netflix’s “watch instantly” movies from the Internet directly to her television.
Many years ago a friend of mine invited me to a pickin’ party at his chicken farm out at Steens. His sister, who he said “sang a little,” was coming home for a visit. I got there late, after all the pickers had warmed up.
A friend of mine sent me an email Monday advising me not to waste my time making a trip to Rolling Fork. I had sent him one earlier in the day letting him know that I was going over to witness the historic crest of the Mississippi River. He reported that the levee was closed to all visitors and warned that even if I weren’t shot on sight, I would end up in the county lock-up.
Seems like only yesterday that I wrote about Joe (not his real name). You might not remember; he was the meth dealer I spent a day with some four or five years ago. I made a long road trip a few months ago, where I found him back at work for my client.
Jobie Martin lost his life in a tragic automobile accident on Interstate 220 in Jackson a few weeks ago. He was 91. He was a broadcasting legend over where I grew up. I was one of his biggest fans.
I drove in late Tuesday night. I found this letter on my back door from one of my neighbors, a little girl.