Hell Yeah, We're Ready

It's been a long time coming.

This time last year, when the Ole Miss Rebels were sitting discontentedly with a 3-9 record (0-8 SEC), no one could have imagined a bowl game in the near future. Yet here we are, No. 22 in the AP poll with a record of 8-4 and a list of victims that includes Florida, Mississippi State, LSU, Auburn and Arkansas.

Fresh off the LSU victory, the Rebels destroyed the Bulldogs in the 2008 Egg Bowl with a final score of 45-0. Ole Miss had school records of 11 sacks and minus 51 yards rushing allowed. The Bulldogs only crossed into Rebel territory twice and scored just 37 total yards. Mississippi State head coach Sylvester Croom resigned the next day.

Statistics, however, can never portray the mood inside the stadium when Ole Miss stormed to victory. Pom-poms flew furiously as the crowd screamed "Hotty Toddy" and chanted head coach Houston Nutt's name. One player held the Golden Egg aloft as Jamarca Sanford waved a flag emblazoned with the Ole Miss "M." Rebel yells echoed through Vaught-Hemingway Stadium as the crowd reluctantly left the celebration.

Now, Rebel fans wait eagerly to learn which bowl their Cinderella team will play in. Wherever they go, Ole Miss will certainly bring a winning attitude and a hunger for victory.

This season, there has only been one answer to the age-old question, "Are you ready?": Hell yeah!

One Minute

I am in the balcony of Fulton Chapel, tape recorder at my side, pen poised over paper waiting for the forum to begin. In a few moments, eight education experts from across the country will take their seats in the leather armchairs on the brightly-lit stage to discuss education policy. Below the balcony, the house is packed with teachers, students, media and others in the education field anxious to hear what these people will say. I am more anxious for the three-hour forum to be over so I can go home.

Someone takes the stage and utters a welcome to the university guests. Following the applause, a woman silently takes the stage. She doesn't introduce herself. She doesn't welcome the guests. Instead, she begins to speak in a ringing voice, full of conviction:

"'I have only just a minute, only 60 seconds in it,
forced upon me, can’t refuse it, didn’t seek it,
didn’t choose it, but it’s up to me to use it,
give account if I abuse it, suffer if I lose it.
Just a tiny little minute, but eternity is in it.'

Let me say that again. 

'We have only just a minute, only 60 seconds in it,
forced upon us, can’t refuse it, didn’t seek it,
didn’t choose it, but it’s up to us to use it,
give account if we abuse it, suffer if we lose it.
Just a tiny little minute, but eternity is in it.'"

No one came to this forum to hear poetry, but that is what we heard. Simple lines read in a brisk, confident voice by a woman who never mentioned her own name. The three-hour forum is merely a blur in my memory, but that poem has never left my mind.

The Art of the Well-Told Story

Bill Rose came to Ole Miss on a golf scholarship.

That is the way Rose began recounting the story of his journalistic beginnings to an auditorium full of students during his guest lecture Sept. 8. Seeking an easy A, Rose enrolled in Journalism 101 during his first semester of college.

While he had written a few sports pieces for area newspapers, the Shelby, Miss., native couldn’t tell a lead from a headline. Once his instructor set him on the right path, Rose fell in love with the art of journalism. Today, he is managing editor of the Palm Beach Post.

Rose’s biggest concern with today’s journalism graduates is their inability to write.

“Learn how to write,” he told the audience, urging aspiring journalists to write often and to read great writers.

Rose spoke animatedly about storytelling in journalism, encouraging students to “throw off the shackles” and use narrative features to tell the stories they are covering.

I found it incredibly refreshing to hear the editor of a major daily newspaper encouraging young journalists to be creative when writing their stories. I generally dislike news writing because it is bland and uninteresting—both to read and write. I am glad to know that creativity still has its place in journalism.

An Exorcism of Hate, or an Exercise in Hate?

At first, nothing seems terribly out of the ordinary. Two of the University Museum’s galleries house the works of Alabama artist William Christenberry. One is filled with his renderings of trees. The other contains only a few larger pieces.

Two guards keep watch outside a section of the gallery cordoned off by a black and red curtain. The only real preview of what stands behind the curtain is an enormous painting on the wall near the entrance: angry white-clad figures splashed across a brilliant yellow background.

There are plaques, and handouts, and warnings. After reading them, this no longer seems like an ordinary art exhibit. One gets the sense that no one should ever step behind that curtain alone.

On the other side is Christenberry’s installation piece, the Klan Room Tableau. Visitors are surrounded by life-size drawings of hooded faces and miniature Klan dolls being lynched, tarred and stabbed with pins. These voodoo figures stare out of miniature jails and tiny coffins.

Holly Bethune, the museum’s curator of education, said she has never heard people use the word “creepy” as much as she has since the exhibit opened.

The project is based off Christenberry’s encounter with a fully robed and hooded Klansman more than 40 years ago. The artist refers to his work as an “exorcism,” a cleansing of the Old South’s racial injustice.

The artist’s violent hatred of the Klan is blatantly obvious in his work. While he is trying to dispel the Klan’s doctrine of hate, he is perpetuating hatred toward that group. In effect, he is saying that while it is not OK to hate minorities, it is perfectly acceptable to hate the people who hate minorities. 

In no way do I support the Klan. Those white-sheeted ghosts haunt my past along with that of any other white Southerner. The Klan hates without reason, while Christenberry has just cause to hate the Klan. They have perpetuated unspeakable crimes against African-Americans and other minorities for decades.

What I'm asking is this: is it logical to battle hate with hate? 

The answer I have reached, after much internal debate, is no. Christenberry's figures are tortured in effigy, and I cannot help but wonder if he would like to see real Klansmen subjected to the same treatment. Violence is still violence and hatred is still hatred, no matter who it is directed toward.