I was slumbering in the Mississippi Delta one morning last week when I heard a buzz overhead and realized this crop duster was spraying surrounding cotton fields. It was an atmospheric wake-up call, though I wish I'd had a HAZMAT suit to throw over my pajamas as I rushed out to snap this photo. I took a quick road trip through the South last week with my friend Anne Bartlett: New Orleans to Memphis, seven cities in eight days. We were following the Blues Route and chasing our favorite southern ghosts -- from William Faulkner and Tennessee Williams to Robert Johnson and Elvis Presley. We found them. We listened to blues in the hometown of Muddy Waters. We stood at the crossroads where, legend has it, Johnson made his Faustian deal with the devil to perfect his guitar licks. We choked up listening to "That's Alright" in the legendary Memphis studio where Elvis first recorded it. And, of course, we went to Graceland where my homage to the King included eating his favorite sandwich: grilled peanut butter and banana. Along the way we developed a deeper appreciation for how the work songs from those Delta cotton fields - the sharecroppers' blues, country and gospel - eventually mixed with urban sounds to help create the Rock and Soul soundtrack of our youth. It was a perfect road trip.
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