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Oxford, Mississippi: First Impressions

Tuesday evening in Oxford. I've been here barely two hours and already I've gotten the question of the day: What are you doing in Oxford? When I tell them I’m here for a discussion of “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” as part of a conference on gay and lesbian issues sponsored by the university’s Gay Straight Alliance, and that I’m hoping we can get a question in at Friday’s presidential debate, the response is more surprise than anything else. Matan Drori, the head of the foreign desk at the Tel Aviv newspaper Ma’ariv, asks me, in effect, what that has to do with foreign policy and national security, the subject of Friday’s debate. The suggestion seems to be that I’m being a little naïve or maybe presumptuous to think anyone wants to talk about gays in the military in these debates.

They may not want to talk about it, but they need to talk about it. Yes, I care about other issues, too, including the ever-expanding financial crisis and what it’s going to cost us — and how it’s going to effect “my issue.” I care about health care. I care about the outcome of this election. I could go on, but I don’t. Instead, I head into town for a look at Oxford and supper, as we call it down here.

. . .

Oxford: The grass, all freshly cut; fine white frame houses; PRAY signs with an American flag planted on the manicured green lawns. Many McCain and Palin signs, too, not so many for Obama.

Early evening and already the Oxford square is abuzz, but softly. No horns or rude yelling, mind you. Folks strolling the streets, parking spaces already taken up all around the square, people drifting into restaurants. The lingering cocktail hour is happy but not loud. No one talks loudly here, not even on their cell phones.

Three polite ladies in white blouses perched on a wooden bench in front of Square Books featuring books by McCain, Obama, and Biden in the window. Nothing by Palin yet, but you can bet there will be. The ladies size me up — politely, of course — as I pass by. They ask if I'm from Oxford. Of course they know the answer. What they really want to know is my role in “the debate.” All minds in Oxford are on Friday’s debate. The ladies tell me they have just been interviewed — "someone from the Washington Post." Tom Oliphant of the Boston Globe is standing behind me, peering over my shoulder. The first wave of the media has already arrived.

I ask the welcoming ladies if they will be around tomorrow.
They nod in unison and one says, "Oh, yes, every day until the end of week."

“I want you to meet some friends of mine tomorrow.” I tell them, “and then I'll tell you why I came to the debate." I wonder how they’ll react when I tell them I’m here because I’m part of the fight to get “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” repealed.

"We'll be here," one says. She is a spry little woman of at least seventy, maybe more, a genteel lady of the South.

And then I ask where I should have supper. "City Grocery. Downtown Grill. AJAK. You can’t go wrong. Delicious." I decide on City Grocery.

I am back in the South of my childhood, and I see with a kind of double vision what I loved about it and why I left it.

09-23-08 By Aubrey Sarvis, SLDN Executive Director |