I awoke at about 10, with my head, thankfully, not truly pounding, but definitely even more fuzzy than my usual morning fog. A shower, an Aleve and some Propel helped greatly, but there’s nothing like a trip to Waffle House to really clear your head. (Let’s not discuss what it does for one’s colon, however.) Waffle House’s are a chain throughout the South much like IHop in the North, although after today, which was my second visit to a Waffle House, I have to admit that the waffles are nothing special. In my opinion, in comparing specialties, the pancakes at IHop are superior to the waffles are at Waffle House. (This crap breakfast food commercial brought to you by the makers of Alka Seltzer.)

So we then began the 35-minute drive to Clarksdale. Route 6 is a pin-straight two-lane blacktop through the flatlands of cotton country. Miles and miles of unending cotton fields interrupted only by the occasional decrepit gas station, junk yard or used car lot, with a fair sampling of homes in the local style of architecture- the double-wide trailer. Those more well-off have low flat homes that blend in to the low flat landscape, and most have what you’d consider a caricature (in this case, true) of a variety of furniture or seemingly abandoned vehicles in their yards. Despite the poverty, there is a calm simplicity to life here that defies pretence. People are what they are and seemed to accepted as so. There is no putting-on-of-airs in The Delta.

We stopped at a small cemetery by the side of the road, which fronted a tiny run-down Baptist church. Running along side this plot was a gentle 25-foot-wide creek, with hanging cypress and magnolia trees on its banks. A very peaceful place to find one’s Last Rest. We took some pictures and paid some homage to some of the neglected graves, some of which dated back to antebellum days. Ray, who in Real Life, makes his living as a Major in the US Army took special note at the grave of a Vietnam Bronze Star and Purple Heart veteran. Touching.

We then headed back to Hopson to visit the owner, Bill, whom Dave I met during our last time here. (He’d gone to bed by the time we’d gotten to the Commissary the previous night). I gave him a copy of the DVD of our last trip, as he was on it, and actually had the last line in it, so we thought it appropriate that he should see it. Bill is a great story-teller and local font of knowledge, and we spent about an hour just shooting the breeze about the colorful folks and history of Greater Clarksdale.

We then drove back into town to check out what was going on. We stopped by the music store again, where a guy named Mike, who was originally from Hamilton Ontario, was plugged in in front of the store and singing. Not 5 minutes went by, and Dave had his harps out and was performing on the streets of Clarksdale. We stayed there while they played for about an hour or so, then walked to see the previously-mentioned T-Model Ford performing on one of the open-air stages. The stage, in this case, is a 6” high plywood platform with a backdrop of cut cane and flowers leaning on a frame. We sat down in the shade on the grass not 10 feet from T-Model.

T-Model is The Genuine Article. He’s probably in his 70s, walks with a cane, and has at least 2 hipflasks of Jack Daniels on him at all times. He sat down and began cranking his black Peavey with small gold stick-on letters that said his name and his moniker The Tail Dragger. He was smiling the whole time, which I am convince was much from the joy he was receiving as it was from the swigs he took between songs, proclaiming “It’s JACK time!” Being so close, it was amazing to see the fluidity of his style, and so quick were his old fingers! I watched his hands float over the strings, plucking and picking (no pick) and for every note I saw him play, I swear I heard three. Juxtaposed to this amazing talent, it was obvious T-Model liked his Jack so much he couldn’t remember what song he’d just played, so at least twice we were treated to repeat performances of Hoochie Coochie Man and (another that I can't remember and will fill in soon). One could take this as a bittersweet thing, or one could just accept it as “part of the package” which is how I think most of the audience felt.

After T-Model, we walked back to the music store to get some pictures with Ron, and then over to the main festival, where we stopped to get a snack of fried Alligator Sticks (No description necessary). Then we headed back to the hotel for showers and some alone time.