Fairly often I get a message that reads something like, “Well, if you are going to write about the Faulkners you could at least do them...
I knew all along I’d never make it to the top, but, age and anger knows no admission of average. The old faces and facades glide...
Here’s John Cofield’s take and John knows a thing or two about growing up in Oxford: “It was a well known FACT that when you came...
Everest awaited. The trip made easier now pushed along by the spirit of Oxford past. Buck Collins nods from the door of his store. But, my...
We live in the Hills. We’ve never wanted to be Delta planters. Jackson doesn’t really feel like ours, anymore, and the Coast has always belonged to...
Commentary by Rusty Faulkner, great-nephew of William Faulkner I recently saw a story on the Thompson House in Oxford and remembered that I have a piece...
The Tallahatchie seemed to be everywhere. Looking out the backseat window, we crossed it a million times going up Old 7 to Memphis. And you had...
As with the great old families of Oxford, each generation leaves its mark with the birth of the next. Among the family who felt William...
My old grandfather Cofield was a true-to-life character. He came to Oxford in 1928, from Georgia. And, because during the Civil War the Union Army had burned...
No matter the generation, the Square has a feeling all its own, but no more so than at sunrise. So hushed you can hear rubber meeting...