The door opens with a wide swing as I'm greeted with the usual "Hi, friend, come in!" Tiny footsteps come faster and faster around the corner until I'm hit by my favorite little person hugs. Coffee is probably already in the works for me, and a spot on the couch cleared. "So, how are you?" she asks.This is the usual welcome I receive at the Havner household. There are some people in life who were made to share in our stories—people who don't simply listen to your words but involve themselves, too.

Welcome to Hicksville

In the 1940s my grandmother’s boss proposed to her, which she promptly refused. It must have made her daily life incredibly awkward, particularly since she didn’t have a car and her boss frequently picked her up to take her to work. She lived near the neighborhood now known as LANA in midtown. It’s a part of Jackson that many remember as Hicksville. The proposal most likely happened only a few yards from where I get my prescriptions filled.

Third Generation

It seems like I find myself in a lot of conversations about how much Jackson is growing. You might also hear natives and non-natives alike saying, “Jackson is nothing like it was ten years ago.” I recently found myself in conversation with a new Jackson resident while waiting in a food truck line at the farmers’ market, and the California-native remarked on how young and up-and-coming Jackson feels compared to other small Southeastern towns she’s experienced.

Gift Guide: Hometown Holiday

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