Anderson
mentioned Friday night that he may stop by Philadelphia, Mississippi this summer when he's in the area attending the Cooper family reunion. Instead of giving the time of day to some sorry former mayor, there are things to see so he should have the new mayor take him to the
Pearl River Resort featuring two casinos, a water park, and golf course and if he goes in July he can go to the
Neshoba County fair infamous for featuring state and national politicians giving stump speeches next to 200 shanty cabins occupied for 1 1/2 weeks that sell for around $200,000.
Anderson has mentioned the Cooper family reunion before and a couple of years ago I posted an excerpt from Wyatt's
Families book that talks about family reunions.
I know I've posted the item below twice below but I figured Anderfans don't get tired of reading the excerpts.
Those were joyous occasions for me. To see all those colorful people of such variety gathered in holiday mood, with their jokes and their laughter and their familiarity with eachother, was as exciting a thing as I knew. It was better than Christmas.
When the sun sank low in the west, we would begin to depart. Children would be tired and quarrelsome; some of us at least, having stayed too long at Little Bit's banana puddin', would be throwing up.Here are some more excepts that may explain where Anderson gets some of his physical attributes.

The similarities and resemblances among us, or the lack of them, were discussed, analyzed, and compared, as were our virtues and our failings. It was agreed, for instance, that my nose and my conceit were pure Cooper but that my coloring and quiet manner came from the Andersons, my mother's people. I was considered lucky to have inherited a head shaped like that of Grandpa Cooper - it stuck out behind something like the back end of an old-fashioned hammer. I shared this inheritance with only one of the dozens of Cooper cousins, and it was assumed that with it went Grandpa's brilliant mind. We were, accordingly, expected to do the family some credit. In the case of my cousin, Frank Rose, the assumptions found fulfillment, either because there was somethig to the idea to start with or because the expectations spurred him on to notable achievement. In high school he was already dazzling; as good-looking as anybody you'd ever want to have around, as popular as a movie star, a top athlete and a top scholar, he was elected president of any campus organization he happened to saunter near. By the time he was twenty-nine he was president of a college, and later performed brilliantly as President of the University of Alabama during years of intense crisis. Time and Life magazines might have been impressed, but there was nothing remarkable about it to my aunts. To them the honors paid him had nothing to do with hard work, clever planning, or diligent study. It was just Grandpa's head, that's all. With that head, what did you expect? As for me - well, my head never did jut out as far as Frank's anyway.
My aunts, Jewell Smith and Addie Flowers, came with their families from Laurel. They had a city look, with beads and earrings and makeup-Aunt Jewell with her high cheekbones, her light reddish hair and fair skin, and Aunt Addie with her china-blue eyes, her prematurely graying hair, her pretty girlish dresses and her flirtatious girlish manners.
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