Mississippi Native: Patrick Jerome

"There are some people I hate who would be happy to see me leave. So fuck them. I’m staying."

What does it mean to call Mississippi home? Why do people choose to leave or live in this weird, wonderful, and sometimes infuriating place? Today we hear from writer, JXN Twitter Persona, and creator of this hilariously renamed county map of Mississippi, Patrick Jerome.

Featured contributor, Patrick Jerome.

Where are you from?

I spent the first 18 years of my life bouncing between Canton, Mississippi and a farm just south of Pickens. After that, I spent 18 years in Jackson, and then moved to the suburbs of Ridgeland. 

How long have you lived in Mississippi?

My entire life. If you want to do some math, I’ve lived in Ridgeland for five years.

What does “home” mean to you? How does Mississippi fit into that definition?

It’s an easy answer, but it’s a long one. 

Home is the place that I know.

When I’m home, I know the timing of things. I know when the seasons change, when the months are dry, when the grass stops growing, when I’m going to need a coat. I know when birds are in the trees and when not to park my car underneath them. I know when I need to wear orange in the woods, and when the woods are flooded. I know when the cold week at the end of October is coming and when November is going to be hot.

I know what’s what when I’m home. I know which roads have potholes and which roads have roadblocks, which roads flood when the river is high, which creeks I can walk down, which creeks I can paddle down. I know which neighbor has a pear tree they don’t watch, which yard has a mean dog, which lots are abandoned, which “No Trespassing” sign means it.

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Like everything else I try to keep my eyes open. I try to be myself when I recognize I’m in a safe place to do so, and I stay guarded when I see that I’m not.

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I know where to go when I’m home. I know what neighborhoods have gates and what suburbs have the worst cops. I know where the cheap bars are, I know where the people I hate hang out, I know where the bartender will float me a few bucks if I run out of beer money. I know where I can get the right soup when it gets cold, which Chinese place has the best wings, which tacos are too expensive and which patio is going to be full on a Thursday night.

 At home I know where the river is, where the creeks are, where the water is deep, where I can walk across the stream. I know where I can find a stand of elderberry bushes in the right of way, I know where a persimmon tree is, where the wild plums and lemons are, where fossils are in the mud, where bones wash up, where I can hang out without buying a damn thing. 

They say home is about relationships, other people, or families. You can find all those things at home, but not everyone will help you, not every relationship will be pleasant, and some of the families you find are worse than the one you were born into. But home is where you know.