BILOXI - When an area has had such a profound influence on your life, it is always nice to get back and renew old acquaintances and establish new ones.
While I am quite comfortable with the Southern charm and flavor, which is unique to the Delta, nonetheless, the Mississippi Gulf Coast has a human characteristic that beckons one to always return.
So when the Edgewater Rotary Club asked me to speak here about the world of journalism, the decision became an obvious no-brainer.
Besides Tom Wall, a Biloxi lawyer and president of the City Council, made persuasive arguments that were hard for any sane individual to refuse.
"People have been reading your column for years," Wall said, "and your viewpoint is respected in all segments of our community."
On the Coast, you experience a tranquil feeling riding along U.S. 90, watching the pleasure crafts gliding over the murky waters of the Mississippi Sound, joggers striding up and down the boardwalk and couples strolling on the sandy beach.
In the aftermath of the Sept. 11 terrorist suicide attacks, the Eight Flags display on Biloxi Beach at U.S. 90 and DeBuys Road now exhibits eight American flags - a show of patriotic pride. The new configuration replaces the controversial display that highlighted the eight ensigns - including the Confederate battle flag - that have flown over the Coast since the 17th century.
I recall the many occasions I took the ferry across the Mississippi Sound to Ship Island, watching the savvy seagulls swoop and dive in the water for popcorn tossed from the vessel.
For me, the Coast always provided a candid snapshot of history, purpose, contentment and professional growth. But with assuagement comes certain trade-offs.
Like most areas, the Coast is in the midst of vibrant growth and development - reshaping its infrastructure. And with the coveted industry comes the nightmarish traffic that usually characterizes high-density areas.
It appears gaming has been good for the continued vitality of the Coast, because the roll of the dice and pull of the slot machines have brought an infusion of tourist dollars.
But at this stage of its growth and development, the Coast is a microcosm of the urban sprawl experienced in Southern cities like Atlanta, New Orleans, Memphis, Nashville, Jacksonville, Birmingham and Miami. The morning and evening rush hour cha-cha is an accepted part of one's lifestyle.
Living in an agricultural oasis that is the Delta, the intrusion of an urban sprawl is remote, and the traffic snarls that are attached to it. Come to think of it, my daily commute is about 10 minutes - depending on how many red lights I catch. You could say Delta motorists greatly appreciate their so-called "rush minute."
I can imagine the consternation of Coast motorists who must travel over the bridge to Ocean Springs during rush hour.
As a former New Yorker, I have vivid memories of four-hour daily commutes from central New Jersey to my office in Midtown Manhattan when I was an editor for a national news magazine. Yet when there is no frame of reference, you accept what might be perceived as a problem simply as the accepted way of the world.
I certainly did, until I moved to the Coast in 1994 and discovered to my delight that you do not have to live life in seas of humanity.
But you know secrets - the good ones at least - do not stay hidden for long.
People have a tendency of spreading the word to a friend or two, so the story of this wonderful Southern paradise reached mainstream America - code name Yankees - and this idyllic area has become buffeted by the madcap mind set that is the North.
Very little in life remains static. Although change is a truism we must endure, it does not mean we have to like the human alteration.
So that is why the Delta has kind of captured me, because to a large degree the indigenousness of the area and the vibrant spirit of the people who live there are difficult elements to ignore.
Besides, it is always nice to come home.
