I hope this song in some way moves us to do something more, to think less of ourselves, to think less of our conveniences, and less of what we think is "progress."         ...water  

LYRICS:
​
I went down to the water to quench my burning thirst
There I saw a swimming otter and a doe standing in alert.
like me the water drew them, like them I needed a taste
Of God’s sustaining water, His precious gift we cannot waste
 
There are hands like ruthless drills digging deep ‘til the land is spent
They want only God's riches, not caring what becomes extinct
 
Water led me down the mountain, singing to me as it ran,
Through the trees and golden grasses, we danced over rock and sand.
In a field, I lay in clover fed by God’s rain and shining sun
I gazed up at the gathering clouds and wondered why it’s not enough
 
There are hands like ruthless drills digging deep ‘til the land is spent
They want only God’s riches, not caring what becomes extinct
 
I went down to find the water to quench my burning thirst
But I found no swimming otter, no doe standing in alert.
There was no water to draw them, not a drop for me to taste
With the riches went the water, all that’s left is barren waste
 
There are hands like ruthless drills digging deep ‘til the land is spent
They took only God's riches, and left nothing ...
 

By the mid-nineteenth century, the locomotive, known as the “iron horse,” had become a national obsession and a massive machine of stamina, speed, noise, fire, iron, and smoke. Finally, travel conquered the obstacles of forests, water, hills and valleys.

Stories about railroad projects, railroad accidents, railroad profits and momentum saturated the press and became the subject of speeches, articles, stories, and songs.  The railroad engine, a symbol of human energy and strength in the time of the horse and carriage, became godlike and in the distance resembled a long monstrous snake-like machine chugging down its track, puffing white smoke, like Native American ceremonial signals above a wilderness landscape.

Edward McGehee, a planter from Woodville, Mississippi , had a dream of a railway system extending the twenty-seven-miles stretch of railroad from Woodville to St. Francisville on the Mississippi River below the Louisiana line.  In 1830, a company was organized; on December 20, 1831 a charter was obtained, and the West Feliciana became the first railroad in the United States to cross a state line as well as the first to use the standard gauge of four feet, eight and on-half inches.

After staking his claim to seven-hundred acres in 1834, Virginian Richard McLemore, “The Father of Meridian,” built his log house close to current downtown Meridian.  His nearest neighbor being about eight-miles away, he recruited his neighbors-to-be from back east, offering them land and the promise of a future.  McLemore played a great part in establishing Baptist churches in Lauderdale County, including Oakey Valley Baptist, predecessor of First Baptist Church. Possibly the greatest part McLemore played in Lauderdale County’s future, though not intentionally, was in the future of the railroad.

The Southern Railroad Company, chartered in Mississippi on February 23, 1846, had plans to build a railroad running eastward from Brandon through Meridian to the Mississippi-Alabama state line. However, before any construction began, the charter lapsed. Reincorporated as a Mississippi corporation on March 9, 1850, the Southern Railroad Company in July, 1852, acquired the Jackson and Brandon Railroad and Bridge Company’s line between Jackson and Brandon, including engines, cars, depots, lands, and slaves. The line would one day make its way toward Lauderdale County, Mississippi.

Before arrival of the Southern Railroad, the 1850’s witnessed the “Iron Horse” pushing its way through Lauderdale County, Attorney Con Rea of Marion predicted the primary beneficiary of the railroad would his town of Marion.  In anticipation of the coming M & O Railroad, according to author James Dawson of Paths to the Past, Meridian Founder, Richard McLemore, before moving his family to the Marion area, sold the remainder of his land to Alabama Lawyer, Lewis A. Ragsdale and Kemper County Merchant John T. Ball. On this land purchased from McLemore, Ragsdale started a tavern in McLemore’s first home while John Ball established the first store in the village not yet named.  These two guys would prove Con Rea wrong!

Once people filled this small church in rural Mississippi, their voices blending in spirituals,  hands folded in prayer. After the service, children ran past their parents to the front lawn, their patent-leather Sunday shoes pressing into the grass, Mothers calling out to them, "Don't you get your clothes dirty!" A line of people extends down the center aisle  leading to the front door where the pastor greets each attendee, thanking them for coming.  "It was a beautiful sermon today," most say, even those who nodded away during the hour, waking only when the preaching rose to the highest note.  You  always found peace on Sundays. Peace still resides here.

Silence pervades the  cemetery, as if even nature understands that death resides here, and with death comes a forever silence.  We fear the cemetery in more ways than one, maybe because death is a certainty; maybe because we do believe ghosts reside here with the headstones and statues and monuments.  Haunted tales of the dead live for centuries and we cling to them, preserve them, tell them,  deny them and believe them.

​It's something we all fear--being abandoned, left alone to face the elements because no one cares anymore. The gates begin to rust, the stones begin to fade and discolor over time. Yet, they still stand, reminding us of the way we were, that someone did care enough to preserve our life here on earth through iron and stone and marble and flowers. Death and time can never erase memories...and we cherish them until we, too, become dust and our stones reach up to heaven.

Many early roads followed Indian trails, such as the stage road through Lauderdale Springs and Daleville, which were among the first communities to have stagecoach service. Original surveys showed a road running southwest to northeast between Lauderdale and Enterprise. This was probably the early route of U.S. Highway 11 and most likely ran through present-day Meridian by way of Sixth Street. One mail and stage route was possibly the “Choctaw Trail.” On this route in 1800 a stagecoach stop was erected in the community of Lauderdale. A major stage line was the Jemison and Ficklin stage line. Coaches arrived in Marion on Monday, Wednesday and Friday evenings and stopped at the Bains Hotel in the town square so passengers could eat in the hotel’s café. Other important roads were the Marion–Livingston Road and the Gaston Road running from Marion to Alabama by way of Alamucha. An early road to Alabama probably followed the route of Highway 19 through Lauderdale County. Decatur Road from Marion may have followed today’s Seventh Street in Meridian.

By late 1835, Scott, Newton, and Lauderdale County residents had persuaded the legislature to establish a mail route from Jackson eastward through Brandon, to the three county seats of Scott, Newton and Lauderdale counties, passing through Alamucha to the county seat of Sumter County, Alabama. Postal authorities wished to upgrade three routes to Lauderdale County so that the coaches pulled by four horses would have greater speeds.  

Traveling Mississippi's  coastal region you discover soft,  white sandy beaches, daily arts & entertainment events, incredible restaurants, and quaint towns nestled among high-rise casinos along the shore igniting the darkest night! The Northeast Mississippi hills spin you on the world's most powerful literary wheel and you feel the stories penetrate your soul. Parallel to the Mississippi River, Highway 61 trails from Natchez and Vicksburg, two river cities that daily share Mississippi's past through antebellum homes and buildings and structures. Before heading to the Delta, stop in Yazoo City's colorful downtown filled where music flows into the streets, beckoning you to get out of the car to stroll the sidewalks and visit the shops along the way. Then, it's on to the Mississippi Delta, where the blues move you and thrill you and the deep, rich soil your toes dig into feels like home.  

So, Mississippi's East Central Region can be easily overlooked. However, through my research for the Mississippi Secretary of State's Bicentennial Book, the East Central Region's history has shouted, whispered, sung, recited, cried and laughed through the many stories it revealed. Join me as I share a few highlights from my research.  I know you'll be as amazed as I was!