As I was looking at the basic definition of what it means to make something, it read “essential qualities or ingredients.” Essential. That word kept repeating in my mind. Essential describes aspects of each person and organization featured in this journal. The stories featured in this Made in Jackson edition represent aspects of our community that are essential when we think about what continually makes Jackson a home for us all.
"Ingredients" is also an interesting concept. I love cooking and baking, and as I think about creating a recipe or making something in my mind into reality, I must have certain ingredients to make the final product taste delicious and enjoyable. This also reflects “makers” in Jackson. They are the ingredients needed to enjoy our city.
But are the makers in this journal, or even the ones nominated, the only people and organizations who are the essential ingredients making up Jackson? I would most certainly say there are more than one could count or acknowledge.
The whole concept of “Made in Jackson” was created to open up the journal for community participation and to hear who you think are essential parts of our city, making up the ingre-
dients that keep our city running together. For this second year, I wanted to change how we phrased each category, adapting each one to say “making Jackson.” The act of being a maker is continual, it is ongoing, it never stops. While these features are the ones we chose for this specific journal, there are many other makers in Jackson who are essential for a thriving environment.
While we must call a physical print journal “finished,” the work being done by community makers is ongoing; it will forever be changing, adapting, and readjusting to the needs at hand. As you read this journal, my encouragement is to look and see how you are actively making the spaces and communities you find yourself in. How are you an essential part of your sphere of influence? Would people look at you and say that you are investing in your community in ways that are essential ingredients in creating a home for your people? And then think: who are the “makers” I should be thanking for making my school, church, organization, friend group, social circles, businesses, or local government?
Let’s continue to do the work of making Jackson the home we all know, love, and strive to see.
MADDIE MCMURRY, EDITOR-IN-CHIEF
CONTRIBUTORS
CONTENTS
8/INNOVATIVE: KATIE GARCIA
Turning 'No' into 'Yes'
By Lizzie Emmons,
Photos by
Kristi Woody
12/INNOVATIVE: MALESUS STEM INNOVATION CENTER Committing to the Future of Jackson's Students
By Austin Thompson, Photos by Maddie McMurry
18/ENTERTAINING: JACKSON ROCKABILLYS
The Ministry of Baseball
By Anna Esquivel, Photos by Dan Battle
24/ENTERTAINING: JEREMY TUBBS
Building a Future in Music
By Eric Archer, Photos by Hannah Gore
30/SPONSOR FEATURE: JACKSON STATE COMMUNITY COLLEGE Making Futures Better
36/CARING: STACY PRESTON
Changing the Narrative Script for Immigrants in Our City Story and Photos by Maddie McMurry
42/CARING: HOLLIE STOCKDALE
Showing up as a Witness & Servant to Women in Motherhood
By Bethany Welborn, Photos by Carrie Cantrell
52/ENDURING: WEST TN FARMERS' MARKET Rhythms & Seasons
By Gabe Hart, Photos by Mirza Babic
58/ENDURING: LENDON NOE
The Process of Becoming
By Trista Havner, Photos by Cari Griffith
making jackson INNOVATIVE
WHO IS MAKING JACKSON INNOVATIVE? WHO HAS DEVISED AND IMPLEMENTED CREATIVE SOLUTIONS TO ENHANCE AND IMPROVE JACKSON? WHO ADDRESSES LOCAL CHALLENGES AND DRIVES POSITIVE CHANGE?
Turning 'No' into 'Yes' KATIE GARCIA
WRITTEN BY LIZZIE EMMONS
PHOTOGRAPHED BY KRISTY WOODY
In 2022, Katie Garcia reached out to me for the first time. We had never spoken before, but she asked a mutual friend for my contact information. She called me to share a new idea she had with someone who was part of the downtown creative community. Although I didn’t know anything about the person on the other end of this phone call, I could tell that Katie Garcia was a powerful force for good change in our community. She told me that she and her husband, Victor, had recently purchased a property on Shannon Street in Downtown Jackson, and she was interested in making the building a space for art. My ears perked up immediately, and I had high hopes that Katie and Victor were about to solve a need in Downtown Jackson: a physical space to create art.
Since 1949, 201 South Shannon Street has been an inconspicuous red brick building of offices. When Katie and Victor purchased the building, they instantly knew that office spaces weren’t what the building was meant to be anymore. They knew that Downtown Jackson was, and is, becoming more than office spaces. With their new building being in close proximity to theLOCAL, the Farmers’ Market, the Amp, restaurants and shops, Katie and Victor had big dreams of activating the space, and their entire side of Shannon Street, into a place the community could enjoy together.
“This is what downtown needs to become exciting and fun; the element that’s missing is art,” Katie said as she remembered when she and Victor were trying to decide what to do with their new building.
From the beginning, Katie knew that she wanted the building they purchased to be a space for working artists and creatives, understanding the value they bring to Downtown Jackson. Becoming a freelance artist or creative of any kind is incredibly intimidating and often expensive, and Katie sees Art on Shannon as a space that is accessible and affordable to all people in all situations who are looking for a creative space to land.
And a creative space for artists to land is exactly what Art on Shannon became.
Katie began creating connections with local artists by attending artist roundtables and going to arts events to inform them about a new resource. Local artists quickly gravitated towards Katie, not only as tenants in her space, but they saw her as a person they could connect with because she dreamed of growing the downtown arts community in partnership with them.
Once Katie formed relationships with the local artists, they all began thinking of ideas together of how to use Art on Shannon. Artists Trey Thompson and Joshua Blankenship quickly partnered with Katie to host artist pop-up events. Now known as Madison Muse Society, this group of artists hosts pop-up events at Art on Shannon and aims to enrich Madison County’s cultural landscape by providing opportunities for local fine artists. Events at Art on Shannon are strategically planned for the benefit of both the artists and the surrounding businesses. Katie has been in contact with local businesses and organizations when planning artist pop-up events to
align with other events in the downtown area, and she stressed the importance of working together with the surrounding community so that everyone is supported in their efforts to grow downtown.
“We all have to succeed together,” said Katie.
Artist entrepreneurs frequently hear the word ’no’: ‘no' to art being a viable career path, ’no’ to finding affordable studio space to create art, ’no’ to opportunities to showcase their work. I believe the reason so many artists are drawn to Katie Garcia and what she’s building in Jackson is that she says ‘yes’ to their big arts dreams, largely because she shares those big dreams for local art too. Katie understands the regular aspects of being a working creative, so she is flexible with leases. She understands the need for more opportunities for artists to showcase and sell their work, so she provides opportunities for them to do it. She believes that artists integrating into commercial businesses is critical for a thriving downtown community, so she organizes opportunities for collaboration.
Jackson, and she is open to making changes that best serve the arts and creative community. She invisions downtown one day having an artist co-op led by the Madison Muse Society and Art on Shannon partnership where artists can have a brick-and-mortar gallery space to showcase and sell their art regularly, rather than relying on frequent pop-up events.
Turning a space like an old office building into an innovative artist studio space is something that Katie sees as an exciting adventure she has taken on, even in the face of some resistance along the way.
“Because so many things haven’t been done yet in Jackson, there’s so much you can do here! On the other hand, some people will say, ‘You can’t do that.’ Sometimes you have to be willing to hear, 'no,' but not take no for an answer."
“On the one hand, because so many things haven’t been done yet in Jackson, there’s so much you can do here! On the other hand, some people will say, ‘You can’t do that.’ … Sometimes you have to be willing to hear, 'no,' but not take no for an answer,” Katie said.
“Since the beginning, I wanted this to be a very organic, artist-led community,” Katie said.
She anticipates Art on Shannon continuing to evolve with the ever-changing arts scene of Downtown
As we look toward the future of Jackson, many of us, like Katie Garcia, are looking at what remains of generations that have come before us and are trying to find new ways to use these spaces and tools we have to meet the needs of our neighbors. As we think through the challenges and possibilities of transforming our community for the better, I hope we each have the tenacity to turn each ‘no’ we might face into a collaborative and creative ‘yes,’ just like the Garcias have, to create revitalized spaces that work for us all.
Committing to the Future of Jackson's Students
MALESUS STEM INNOVATION CENTER
WRITTEN BY AUSTIN THOMPSON
PHOTOGRAPHED
BY MADDIE MCMURRY
In the southern corner of Jackson, Tennessee, something truly special is happening at the old Malesus School. The Malesus STEM Innovation Center isn't just another school; it's a beacon of hope, an investment in our children's future, and a testament to the power of innovation and collaboration. As someone who has long felt the pull of innovation and creativity, I know firsthand the importance of spaces like this — places where kids can explore, fail, grow, and ultimately thrive. If a place like Malesus existed when I was in school, it would have been exactly the kind of environment where I would’ve thrived. This summer, I had the privilege of working with the Jackson-Madison County School System (JMCSS), assisting the Innovation Department with assembling equipment and handling logistics for Malesus. I was uniquely qualified for this role as an entrepreneur and the manager of the longest running Makerspace in Jackson at theCO. It was one of those experiences that reminded me of how lucky we are to have such forwardthinking leaders in our community. One of those leaders is Dr. Marlon King.
Dr. King, the superintendent of JMCSS, has been instrumental in bringing this vision to life. As a man with nearly 30 years of experience in education, his commitment to improving public schools is clear. From his roots in rural West Tennessee to his leadership across various districts, Dr. King understands that our children deserve opportunities that will prepare them for the future. Under his leadership, Malesus was born as more than just a building — it’s a movement, a place where students
can engage in real-world STEM (Science, Technology, Engineering, and Mathematics) coursework like robotics, cybersecurity, and mechatronics. In previous conversations, Dr. King has emphasized that Jackson needs to be at the forefront of preparing students for a workforce that's constantly evolving. And that’s exactly what Malesus is doing.
Of course, no project of this magnitude is complete without visionaries on the ground to make it all happen. That’s where my friend, Dr. Molly Plyler, steps in — though let’s be real, I’m never going to get through this article calling her Dr. Plyler. Molly and I have worked together in the past, and not only do I respect her deeply, but I can also say without hesitation that she's much smarter than I am. So while I’ll give her the accolades she deserves, you’ll have to forgive me for being on a first-name basis with such a brilliant mind.
Molly, the STEM & Computer Science Senior Advisor for JMCSS, lights up when she talks about Malesus and the opportunities it presents. "I’m ecstatic," she said when I asked her about the school’s impact. She shared how students at Malesus now have access to courses that will prepare them for the future — robotics, engineering, eSports, and more. She’s not just talking about teaching the kids how to build cool things; she’s talking about life-changing opportunities. With STEM occupations expected to grow by 10.4% over the next decade, these kids are being equipped for a future that’s brighter than many of us could have imagined for ourselves. And let's face it — Jackson itself stands to benefit from this in ways we haven't fully seen yet.
"The more we cultivate STEM talent," Molly said, "the more likely Jackson will attract companies focused on technology, advanced manufacturing, pharmaceutical research, and healthcare."
And it’s not just about what happens inside the classroom. Molly made it clear that the key to STEM education is project-based learning. That’s why community partnerships are essential to the success of Malesus. She shared an exciting example about Toyota’s involvement with the school. Not only did Toyota invest financially in the program, but they also provided hands-on training for teachers, consulted with students on projects, and helped shape the physical setup of the classroom to mirror the modern workplace. That’s not just education — that’s transformation.
When I asked Molly what it meant to be part of such a transformative initiative, her answer struck a chord with me. "Where the Jackson-Madison County Schools are right now is magical," she said. And I couldn’t agree more. Malesus represents the culmination of years of hard work, collaboration, and community effort. It’s not just a school; it’s a message to the children of Jackson that we see them, we believe in them, and we’re committed to their future.
perspective on what it takes to inspire students. During our conversations, she described the potential that Malesus holds, not just for its students, but for the entire community.
"We’re creating an ecosystem where learning extends beyond the walls of the classroom,” McSweeney said. That’s a bold statement, but it’s exactly the kind of bold thinking that has driven Malesus to become the beacon it is today.
Dr. McSweeney also spoke about how the hands-on, experiential learning approach at Malesus is what sets it apart from other schools.
"It’s not just a school; it’s a message to the children of Jackson that we see them, we believe in them, and we’re committed to their future."
"It’s one thing to read about science or math," she said, "but it’s a completely different experience when you’re applying those concepts to solve real-world problems."
That approach, she explained, is what will give Jackson students a competitive edge. It’s what will ensure that these kids not only learn but excel in the fastpaced, ever-evolving world we live in.
Another key player in this journey is Dr. Teresa Littrell McSweeney, who serves as the Chief Innovation Officer at the Jackson-Madison County School System. Dr. McSweeney’s background in school leadership gives her a unique
I can’t help but reflect on how different my life might have been had I attended a school like Malesus. I graduated from Dyersburg High School in 1995, and while I wouldn’t trade my experiences for anything, I know a place like this would have changed the game for me. But more than that, I’m grateful to be a part of the Jackson community now, watching as the next generation gets the opportunities I could only dream of. Malesus is more than just a school — it’s a promise to our kids and our community that we are ready for whatever innovation the
future brings.
It’s impossible not to feel the weight of history blending with the excitement of the future. This school, once filled with memories and then closed, is now alive again with the hum of innovation, possibility, and dreams. This school is more than just a building — it’s a beacon for the future of Jackson. That future, built on the backs of leaders like Dr. McSweeney and Molly, is a testament to what can happen when educators and community members unite with purpose.
Throughout the process of reopening Malesus, it felt apparent that everyone knew they had a responsibility — not just to reopen a school, but to redefine what education can look like. They were not just preparing them for
today, but equipping them for a future we can’t yet see.
And that’s the beauty of it all. Malesus stands as a symbol of resilience, not just because it was brought back to life, but because of the unwavering belief in the potential of our students. From a school once closed to a vision executed by true innovators, Malesus is a promise that Jackson is ready for whatever tomorrow holds.
In the end, the story of Malesus is not just one of rebirth — it’s one of triumph. We’ve come full circle, and the sense of pride and joy I feel walking these halls is shared by every teacher, every student, and every person who believes in the power of this place. The future is bright, and Malesus is leading the way.
making jackson ENTERTAINING
WHO IS MAKING JACKSON ENTERTAINING? WHO ARE THE ARTISTS, WRITERS, MUSICIANS, ACTORS, EVENT PLANNERS, FILMMAKERS, DESIGNERS, PHOTOGRAPHERS, AND MORE WHO SHOW US NEW WAYS OF HEARING, SEEING, AND ENJOYING OUR CITY?
The Ministry of Baseball
WRITTEN BY ANNA ESQUIVEL
PHOTOGRAPHED BY DAN BATTLE
THE JACKSON ROCKABILLYS
I lost count of the number of times Dennis and Lisa Bastien said they were “blessed” to be in Jackson heading up the Rockabillys baseball team. As a Southerner, it's a phrase I hear so often that I can be a bit, well, cynical about its overuse. But the more I learned about the Bastiens and their journey to Jackson, the less cynical I became and the more I wondered if “blessed” was an understatement.
A Rockabillys experience showcases the best of what sports has to offer any town. A collective identity radiates from the players to the spectators. Dennis and Lisa Bastien, in spirit and in service, remind me that sports, and baseball especially, can be much more than just spectacle and revenue. It would be easy to walk into the Rockabillys offices and see only spectacle. Movie posters greet you as soon as you walk in: Field of Dreams, A League of their Own, The Sandlot, Bull Durham, For Love of the Game. Baseball stadium blueprints and renderings line the walls. Each office is the resident’s own ode to baseball, but Dennis’s corner office is the most impressive. There’s the usual kind of memorabilia: old bats and bobbleheads, signed balls and old news articles. On closer inspection, these items tell a much deeper, more intimate story. Dennis isn’t just any collector who hunts down some cool stuff on eBay. His bobbleheads date back to the 1960s, when he and his grandfather took trains from Southern Illinois to St.
"A Rockabillys showcasesexperiencethe best of what sports has to offer any town. A collective identity radi- ates from the players to spectators."the
Louis to watch Major League Baseball games, collecting priceless memories along the way. The old wooden bats that stand sentry in the corner of his office were used by his grandfather in his Army baseball days, when he played with Don Larsen. Covering two other walls were pieces that signified another side of Dennis’s connection to what baseball offers the American narrative. The first thing you see when you walk into Dennis’s office is a signed lithograph of a ballplayer painted with exaggerated extremities, reaching for a ball as he stands over another player sliding into base. “That’s Cool Papa Bell,” Dennis explained. “Maybe the greatest player who ever played the game.” Art renderings and reprints of old newspapers articles about the Negro League cover about half of Dennis’s office. He’s deeply invested in the history of the league and was proud to share with me that
Major League Baseball had, just this spring, integrated the Negro League’s stats into its records. While this move by MLB certainly could never right the wrongs of the past, it allowed Josh Gibson, a talented player from the 1940s, to claim the top spot in MLB for highest batting average.
It doesn’t take but a few minutes of meeting Dennis to realize that there’s nothing trivial about these memorabilia. They aren’t for show. In fact, most spectators will never see the inside of this office or hear the stories Dennis has to tell about each item. These items aren’t for us, but for him.
They remind him why he has dedicated his life to baseball and why baseball is worth dedicating one’s life to.
The journey to Jackson for the Bastiens has been thirty years long. They were scouted by Mayor Charles Farmer back before there was a ballpark. On an early visit to the area, Farmer had taken the Bastiens to the tract of land between Exit 85 and 87 that would become the ballpark, trying to tell them that the Fairgrounds where the Bastiens’ team would have to play was planned to be only a temporary park. Unfortunately, at the time, the league that Dennis was scouting for wasn’t keen on their teams playing in borrowed fields. Nevertheless, the Bastiens saw something special in Jackson on that visit, and it never quite left their imagination.
Over those thirty years, the Bastiens kept up the baseball business, owning teams, commissioning leagues, and building ballparks, yet something
would keep drawing them back to Jackson — to scout, to play, and to keep those early memories of what could have been ignited in a small way.
Eventually, Dennis would be hired as the commissioner for the Prospect League, a collegiate summer league that he expanded to include the Rockabillys. At that point, the Bastiens had suffered several losses in their enterprise but gained their first grandchild. And once again, they had an opportunity to bring a league team to Jackson and to put down roots somewhere for a while. They had put in an impressive and expansive proposal to the City of Jackson, but they just weren’t sure it would pan out.
One Sunday morning, as they were considering the fate of their proposal, Lisa and Dennis wondered if they should head to Jackson after church, just to take one more look at the park.
“We rarely turned on the radio, much less to a country station,” Dennis
explained. But something made them turn on that FM station, and when they did, there was the Man in Black inviting them to come along, because he was “Going to Jackson.” “My whole life, I’d never heard that song on the radio — and I was a big country music fan,” said Lisa. So if this wasn’t a sign, then signs don’t exist. Not ones to argue with the great Johnny Cash, the Bastiens did go to Jackson, made it home, and made the Rockabillys their home team.
With the addition of their daughter Grace Crocker, the Bastiens have been able to create a team that not only expands the recreational offerings of West Tennessee, but also the number
of people who, even if temporarily, call Jackson home. Each summer, the Rockabillys host college ballplayers from all over the league’s coverage area. While Grace ostensibly acts as the CFO for the team, her passion is creating a sense of home and belonging for the transient players. She’s very aware of the impact these players have not just on the team but the region. She wants these players to connect with the community, to see what Jackson has to offer, and to eventually graduate from college and consider returning to Jackson for a place to work and build a family.
The Rockabillys’ economic and
community impact is not limited to baseball games. The Bastiens’ proposal for the park won out because of their promise to bring events other than baseball to the park. From Brew Fest to car shows to concerts, the Bastiens have kept their promise. This October, thousands of people will attend the University of Tennessee Baseball’s fall practice game; this spring, the stadium will host a 32-team National Down Syndrome Awareness high school baseball tournament. After that, the Southern States Athletic Conference will bring 16 teams to the area. As a way to connect the historic with the present, Dennis has just signed a contract to bring the Black College World Series, a week-long event highlighting eight of the best baseball teams from Historically Black Colleges and Universities to Jackson in May 2025.
The economic impact of the Prospect League is much more expansive than that of a minor league team, because the shorter game season allows for more off-season programming, which can be tailored to the values and interests of the West Tennessee community. The Rockabillys employ about 60 to 70 people on any given game night. Over the years, baseball in Jackson has given so many people opportunities for employment. Dennis proudly talked about how often he hears from spectators and Jackson natives that they worked at the ballpark at one point or another. Grace explained that she wants the ballpark to be part of West Tennesseans’ personal milestones and hopes to find more ways for the Rockabillys to play a part in people’s “firsts”: a child’s first ball game, a company’s first social gathering, a teenager’s first job.
"For the Bastiens, baseball is more than a business; it is history, it is art, it is family, and it is a mission."
What makes baseball such an important linchpin for a community?
“There’s no clock,” Dennis answers. The leisureliness of the game, the relative closeness of the players to the fans, the openness of the stadium that allows movement and play —all of this makes baseball not just a game to be watched, but a communal, connecting experience as well. During any game, you’re not just watching the players play; you’re watching old friends connect, children playing in the stands, new friendships being made. With every crack of the bat, our collective eyes move back to the game play — but only for a moment. Community is made, and in the meantime, a ball game is being played.
The Bastiens’ hope is that Rockabillys Stadium will host more community events and fundraisers. They want it to be such an impressive place for players to play that they tell other players that Jackson is the place to be. They want it to be a familial place, a place of firsts. If the Rockabillys are a ministry, then the stadium is the church. The Bastiens are building a space where West Tennesseans can foster kinship and share community values. For the Bastiens, baseball is more than a business; it is history, it is art, it is family, and it is a mission.
Building a Future in Music
WRITTEN BY ERIC ARCHER PHOTOGRAPHED BY HANNAH GORE JEREMY TUBBS
It’s nine-thirty in the morning when Jeremy Tubbs sticks his hand out to shake mine on the sidewalk in front of the Hamilton Performing Arts Center at the University of Memphis campus at Lambuth. In Jeremy’s other hand he balances a mug with the bag he has slung over his shoulder. “I think we probably have the building to ourselves for the interview,” Jeremy says to me as he reaches out and inserts his key into the front door of the building. He swings it open, letting me step inside. “Music students are more like eleven o’clock kind of folks.”
Just inside the entrance hall Jeremy pushes open a second door — his office. I step in after him as he circles behind a desk to set down his bag — a desk which, itself, is surrounded by walls adorned floor to ceiling with concert posters and plaques, records, and other memorabilia.
“I bet this took a minute to decorate,” I say as Jeremy steps past me back into the hall.
“I call it my music library,” he jokes, pointing toward a shelf stuffed to its edges with vinyl records, before continuing deeper into the building.
“So I went to South Side,” Jeremy tells me. We're now sitting on a pair of sofas inside Lambuth’s recording studio. Across from us are audio boards
and studio monitors. Behind Jeremy I can see into a small vocal booth. The window behind me frames a second, larger booth, this one packed with drums and microphones, amplifiers, and instruments.
“I graduated in ‘93,” he continues. “I came to Lambuth, um…” He stops to look at his phone. “Hold on one second,” he says, standing and walking back into the hallway, “I may need to open the door because some people want to get in.” I hear him continue talking as he walks back toward the door of the building, “Yeah, my office sometimes is a place where people come and do homework and stuff too.”
A moment passes before he reenters the room. He pauses in the recording studio. “I see stuff that has been moved around,” he says, pointing to the instruments and amplifiers. He sits back on the sofa across from me.
“I love to come in and say like, ‘Hey, they've been recording.’” He settles back into the interview with a look of curiosity, as if he’s trying to imagine what creativity could have happened in this space since he left the building the night before.
I’ve known Jeremy for no more than twenty minutes now — already I can tell there is more to this man than simply “music professor.” It seems that, to his students, Jeremy has full intention
to be a friend and mentor as well as a professor. This thing he's built in this room — in this building — it’s seeming a lot more like a home than a degree program.
“You were telling me you went to South Side,” I prompt.
“Graduated in ‘93, came to Lambuth, and I came to Lambuth premed major.”
“Right,” I respond. We’re back in it.
“It's like, came here, you know, was going to pursue medicine, but also music minor.” He squares his hands from left to right, compartmentalizing the two interests — separating them.
But Jeremy hated it. Every day from start to finish was enveloped with work, class, and studying. Over the span of 18 months music had rapidly become an afterthought.
“So, um, decided to change majors — told my dad. My dad was like, ‘Oh no, no, no, no, no, no, no.’” I laugh as he strings out the reaction.
in Musicology.
A promise kept.
Jeremy attended graduate school in Memphis, Tennessee. It was here that he would plug into the local music scene, attempting to experience all the city’s rich music history had to offer.
“I think if I'd have gone to any other city, I don't know if I'd have been the same, you know? I fell in love with not only Memphis music, but this thing that's in the, you know, it's in the Mississippi River.”
“If they have a passion and they understand the freedom that comes with that passion, then I want to nurture that and grow it to where they can go and do what they want to do in life.”
It was there in that city of music that Jeremy made the decision to become a musicologist, something he almost felt destined to do. He loved all things music — Pop, Rock and Roll, Blues, The Beatles, The Stones, Clapton — and it’s that passion that landed him in an interview room with Kenneth Kreitner, professor of musicology at the University of Memphis.
“‘Dad, I promise you,’” Jeremy continues. “‘I will still be a doctor.’ That's what I said.”
Jeremy’s bio is, itself, a text that is in no way lacking accolades — founding nonprofits, performing and music directing with platinum songwriters, studying at Oxford College in England and the Berklee College of Music in Boston, having a membership with the NARAS (that's the Grammys by the way), presenting papers at Yale. Among these many accolades also reads Ph.D.
Kreitner was one of the world's foremost experts on Medieval and Renaissance music, but more importantly he was the man that could open the doors to the graduate program at Memphis.
Jeremy sat with Kreitner, and the break was that he liked what Jeremy was bringing to the table. “He affirmed me. He was like, ‘You — you've got this edge to you that's kind of neat.”
“That must have meant a lot to hear,” I respond.
“In that meeting that day, after we talked for a little while, he basically said, ‘If you stay here through your
master’s and doctorate both, and I'm your advisor the whole time, you won't have to pay for school.’”
“So did it work out that way?”
“Absolutely.”
2008 is the year that Jeremy graduated with his Ph.D.
“Within two weeks, Lambuth called me and said, ‘Hey, come home.’”
“Back to Jackson?”
“Back to Jackson,” he confirms. “And I was hired to start this program, basically.”
Jeremy and the other professors of the music department would be building a program from the ground up. In many ways it seemed that everything was falling into place, but in another way it would seem that this feeling was to be short-lived. In 2010 paychecks stopped arriving on time.
Rumors were flying around, feelings of uncertainty were spreading, and Lambuth was going bankrupt. The program Jeremy and his colleagues had been building ground to a halt. Jeremy tells me how he remembers packing away all the department's equipment into storage closets and barricading the doors.
“They were afraid that looters were going to come on campus and start stealing stuff. They couldn't pay security. They couldn't pay people to watch at night, so people were coming on campus. Alumni were coming back and stealing bricks.” He raises his hand in confusion at the mayhem of it all.
In light of the setback, Jeremy started playing more gigs and teaching music lessons. Jobs in academia are scarce during the summer. Given that most programs would not be hiring until fall of the following school year, Jeremy faced nearly a whole year in
limbo.
Jeremy turned to reliance on his music skills — gigs, lessons, and royalties — but even with his wife working, he had two young kids, and things were tight. Despite this uncertainty a glimmer of hope appeared on the horizon: Lambuth was to be bought by the University of Memphis. Unwilling to let opportunity slip by, Jeremy picked up the phone and placed a call to Memphis — the dean of the College of Fine Arts.
“So I cold-called him, and his reaction was, ‘Let's meet, let's talk about this.’”
U of M already had a music department and ultimately saw no need to establish a second one, but like a lightbulb, Jeremy and the dean settled on a new idea. What if there was to be an extension of the music department, a program designed specifically to be studied in Jackson, Tennessee?
Jeremy started writing curriculum, and in 2023 the program was ready to be implemented. A Bachelor of Arts in Music and Entertainment — a program twelve years in the making.
“This is an art,” Jeremy tells me, sitting forward on the blue sofa across from mine. “So you get all types of people.”
“Definitely,” I respond.
“It's like, well, we're a rainbow spectrum over here [in the music department] of different colors, shapes, sizes, mentals. It's a great thing. It's all diverse, and I believe inclusion and diversity bring out creativity, because I — I lived it. I've lived where I am a white heterosexual male that was really ingrained in the culture of African American Delta rock and roll blues.”
Jeremy speaks with a recognition
that seems to carry gratitude for all that his life has exposed him to.
He tells me the impact this diversity has made on his life, and the creativity that has flourished from welcoming it. What's more, he seems determined to offer his students the same opportunity to create great music in a space that values who they are.
“I want to make their lives better. I want…” He pauses. “If they have a passion and they understand the freedom that comes with that passion, then I want to nurture that and grow it to where they can go and do what they want to do in life.”
“It's a passion, it's a freedom, and I want them to enjoy that, you know?”
“A lot of people come through the program, and if you poll — go out into the community and go to a gig, you'll see that somebody running sound or somebody on stage probably graduated from here. Every church on Sunday morning, you could walk up on stage and ask, ‘Where’d you go? Did you go to school?’ ‘Oh, I went to Memphis,’ or ‘I went to Lambuth.’”
Jeremy pauses for a moment, as if he's reflecting on the story he’s told me — the impact it has had on his life and the lives of his students. It is clear that here, in the Hamilton Performing Arts Center, Jeremy is doing much more than teaching music. He is shaping young creatives to have a true passion for their craft and for the world around them. He is making an impact not just on those students, not just on Jackson, but on every community those students choose to spread to throughout the world.
“So, it's pretty — it's pretty amazing," Jeremy tells me.
And it is.
SPONSOR FEATURE
Making Futures Better
JACKSON STATE COMMUNITY COLLEGE
“We don’t just see ourselves as a degree-granting institution, we see ourselves as a community agent for economic development,” Dr. Carol Rothstein, president of Jackson State, said.
In the heart of West Tennessee, Jackson State Community College has been a cornerstone of education and economic development since its founding in 1967. As one of the original three community colleges in Tennessee and the first in the western part of the state, Jackson State serves over 3,500 students across 10 counties, connecting individuals to transformative opportunities and improving the overall health of the region.
Jackson State sees themselves as a key player in economic development as they partner with organizations throughout West Tennessee and commit to training a local workforce that strengthens the economy and improves quality of life. They want to instill a love for Jackson as a home for their students. The community college model is unique because of the partnerships they have with other four year institutions like University of Memphis, UT Martin, and Lane College, which allow
students to receive all the training and degrees they need for their career while remaining at home. This not only retains local talent, but also attracts businesses, combats economic decline, and reduces poverty, especially in our rural surrounding communities.
For Dr. Rothstein, the mission of Jackson State is personal. As a mother of three who needed the flexibility of a community college, she experienced firsthand the life-changing impact it can have. "They helped me figure out my goals and what I wanted," she recalled, making her deeply invested in the success of students who find themselves in similar situations. Whether they are recent high school graduates, working parents, or individuals from underprepared academic backgrounds, Jackson State meets students where they are.
The impact and reach of Jackson State is vast and wide across West Tennessee.
“You can go into any room and ask ‘who here graduated from Jackson State?’ or who is connected or knows someone – it is overwhelming how many people in a room are connected
to Jackson State. It’s wild. It is a big sign that we have that community support,” Henry Kilpatrick, Chief Marketing and Communications Officer, said. “I want people to be proud of the institution they came from and proud to give back to it, we really want to establish pride in West Tennessee.”
Jackson State is making Jackson’s students better prepared for their futures and encouraging community engagement at whatever age they enter the college scene. Many times, students come out of their programs and are making the highest salary of their entire household. This changes the trajectory of their entire families and the impact they can add to our local economy here in West Tennessee.
Graduates move on from Jackson State to do incredible things, and most of them are staying local. Jackson State has a huge impact on keeping people in the home we all know and love here. They make Jackson better by training
more “Jackson makers” and by improving the livability of each family the students are connected to.
Kilpatrick and Dr. Rothstein both hope to see Jackson State continue to grow with their student population, whether that be by renovating buildings, establishing more community partners, or expanding programs of study. They want to grow and expand their relationships, resources, and reputation. Jackson State is shaping students into community members who have a deep love and appreciation for making their home right here in Jackson, Tennessee.
“We always look at how we can be a better neighbor, a better steward to our community, not just through education, but also showcasing the partnerships and programs we have available to them to potentially give them what they are looking for,” Kilpatrick said.
making jackson CARING
WHO IS MAKING JACKSON CARING? WHO PROVIDES SUPPORT TO MEMBERS OF THE COMMUNITY? WHO HELPS THOSE IN NEED? WHO OFFERS ANY KIND OF EMOTIONAL, PHYSICAL, OR PRACTICAL HELP?
Changing the Narrative Script for Immigrants in Our City
STACY PRESTON
WRITTEN + PHOTOGRAPHED BY
Imagine entering a space and time that is unfamiliar to you. The culture you are surrounded with is nothing like the one you grew up in. You don’t know what roads lead into the next, what people to connect with to get a job, or any information for daily living. On top of the culture shock, you are surrounded by a language you do not know. You can’t communicate. You can’t even speak to the person to your right or to your left at the grocery store, a basic task we take for granted.
Now, imagine you are stuck in a domestic abuse situation with children to care for, but your abuser uses their legal status as a way to continually trap you in the life you want to escape.
But then you meet a woman named Stacy, who tells you that you don’t have to be stuck in this situation any longer. There is a way to self-petition due to being a victim of abuse, but you didn’t know this was an option until someone told you about the resources available. This was a real person that Stacy Preston, director of All Saints
MADDIE MCMURRY
Immigration Services, cared for recently. She was able to get this woman and her children out of an abusive situation simply because of her legal knowledge and intentionality to inform someone who didn’t know what steps to take. Now, a year later, this woman has a work permit, has moved her children into an apartment, and is able to live an independent life.
The work Stacy does is transformational — it provides people with a shift in identity, and it provides them with confidence.
While most of us carry on with our normal lives unaware of the challenges or circumstances of our local immigrant community, Stacy Preston has a different story. All Saints Immigration Services (ASIS) in Jackson is a local nonprofit providing low-cost legal services to immigrants in our community. ASIS is the only immigration service between Memphis and Nashville, making the needs greater than the current staff can provide.
Stacy moved to Jackson in 2001
to attend Union University, where she met her husband, and after graduation, they decided to make Jackson their home. While at Union, she majored in Spanish, with a minor in intercultural studies. During her college years, she began serving at a Spanish church and stayed there for seven years. The congregation quickly became like family to her, and soon she began attending their birthday parties, weddings, and quinceañeras. This was the beginning of her passion to help immigrants find resources and attain legal status so that they could live their lives to the fullest capacity and fulfill the dreams they had in moving to the US.
In 2016, after a very long period where she didn't really know what to do with her degree and felt limited in Jackson, Stacy and her family began attending All Saints Anglican Church. At this time, her children were older, and she was questioning how she could be involved in the immigrant community. She came across a way to practice immigration law without going to law school, a program through the Department of Justice, where you can practice immigration law through a nonprofit. One of the barriers to daily life for immigrants is their access to attorneys, so instantly, she knew this was what she needed to do. After Stacy went through the training, the church began to function as the nonprofit that housed her ability to practice this immigration law.
In 2020, ASIS officially opened its doors, and in 2023, it became its own nonprofit, separate from the church. The work that Stacy and her small team accomplish is life-changing for people in our community. Most immigrants can’t afford to hire an attorney, and they don’t know what
resources are available or what steps to take to get the help they need. Stacy’s priorities for caring for this community are very practical. Her work ranges from giving immigrants legal status, a driver’s license, work permits, escaping domestic violence, and overall, independence.
“There is a lack of resources for people who have so many needs and so many barriers to get what they need. Being able to use my own experience, just the fact of having an education and being born a US citizen and having the ability to understand immigration law,” Stacy said. “It allows you to be an advocate for people who are not in the same situation and who could not navigate the system on their own. And I think providing it at low or zero cost takes down so many barriers.”
Stacy and her team face a long list of barriers while trying to care for immigrants. From raising awareness of ASIS resources, to trying to communicate through different languages, to getting people out of abusive situations, to overcoming political biases, the list could go on for a while. Yet, Stacy is filled with joy. She continues to pursue care for this community despite what others may think or say because this mission is far greater than herself.
“Our geographic location and the immigration narrative is a challenge. We are not working in politics, but immigration is tied so closely to that. We work within the humanity of immigration; we’re not trying to solve all the political problems within the immigration system. But that’s a challenge because there are people who would never be interested in what we’re doing simply because we are working with immigrants,” Stacy said.
"Our geographic location and the immigration narrative is a challenge. We work within the humanity of immigration. "
These immigrants are already here, right in our neighborhoods and communities, so why not help them? The amount of help that our community needs is greater than the All Saints' staff's capacity. The immigration population in Jackson is incredibly diverse, as Stacy and her team have seen clients from over 30 countries. The largest number of phone calls come from Spanish speakers, which is easy for communication because both Stacy and her assistant speak fluent Spanish. However, if a client speaks another language besides Spanish, they try to connect people to another person — a human being. Connecting them to people is vital.
“Caring for our neighbors is helping them figure out what needs they have and then meeting them there,” Stacy explained. “It’s hard to feel very cared for through a phone translator.”
again until just a few years ago. Now, that little girl who Stacy used to hold in her lap has become the newest team member at ASIS and is going to law school as she works with Stacy parttime. Stacy also got to be the family’s legal representative in their case to become US citizens. This is the fullcircle transformative care Stacy gets to provide our community, families, and individuals who feel scared and helpless.
“I feel passionate about highlighting immigrants in a positive way and changing the narrative so that they are not seen as a lot of myths, but that they bring incredible gifts to our community."
Although the challenges are great, the rewards for Stacy and her team are even greater. Each legal case can take a long time to see any kind of results. Since ASIS is in its fourth year of operation, the team is finally seeing cases that are closed and lives that are changed simply from one piece of paper.
One story Stacy recalls as impactful has been a twenty-year journey. In college, she served at a Spanish church where she became close with one certain family (who she has a photo of hanging in her office). After she left that church, she didn’t see this family
Whether an immigrant is four years old or 80 years old, Stacy wants to change the narrative of their life by providing them with legal help, but ultimately, seeing and meeting each human right where they’re at. That might look like connecting them with someone farther along in this journey, creating a relationship with another neighbor who speaks their language, or helping them find a job. No matter what the day holds, Stacy faces it head on, overflowing with joy, and caring deeply for those most would overlook.
“I feel passionate about highlighting immigrants in a positive way and changing the narrative so that they are not seen as a lot of myths, but that they bring incredible gifts to our community. Diversity is such a gift,” Stacy told me. “It doesn’t make us a more dangerous city. It really is a gift. Being able to help change that narrative is something I feel passionate about. I want people to understand the entire immigrant experience and all the challenges these people face.”
Showing
up as
a
Witness & Servant to Women in Motherhood
WRITTEN BY BETHANY WELBORN
BY CARRIE CANTRELL
PHOTOGRAPHED
HOLLIE STOCKDALE
We pulled up to the house at the same time, she and I, on a quiet, well-manicured street in the north Jackson neighborhood. Fall was just beginning to tease the Tennessee breeze, and the sky seemed a deeper, fuller shade of blue than it had in the shimmering heat of July or the droning buzz of August. My first impression of Hollie Stockdale as we greeted each other on the driveway was that she was steady, wise, and kind. She paused before she spoke, not from hesitation, but from reflective consideration. She gathered up a length of colorful fabric she’d brought (a birthing aid from Mexico called a rebozo, I’d later learn), and knocked on the door of her client’s home before letting herself in. Her eyes were tired; she’d been assisting with a birth the night before until 4am, yet she graciously kept our appointment. Her voice throughout our interview, lower and softer than I expected, didn’t waver or self-deprecate. This, I felt immediately, was a woman at ease with herself and her place in the world. This is a woman who knows what she was made for.
As we walked into the expansive living room of Hollie’s client — Veronica was her name — and got settled on the couch, I was delighted to be seated next to a gently rocking SNOO bassinet, with Veronica’s four-week-old son, Jacob, snuggled inside. Hollie beamed when she saw him, and gave Veronica a familiar hug.
My second impression of Hollie Stockdale was this: she delights in tending to mothers and babies. One of the first things Hollie mentioned as we began our discussion of how she serves
the families of Jackson was that if you reach out to her for help, you won’t be turned away.
“There should not be a barrier of time, space, income, any of that…I’ll meet [you] where [you’re] at,” she said assuredly. Hollie, an RN of 10 years, mother of five, certified lactation consultant (CLC) and owner of Hub City Doula, considers her job to be a noble calling, not just a career. Providing expectant and postpartum mothers alike with resources and compassionate support is her passion. When women contact Hollie needing help with breastfeeding or birth plans, she will always provide that information free of charge.
In addition to her one-on-one work as a doula, Hollie also partners with the Jackson Health Department and Women, Infants, and Children (WIC) program, serving as a consultant to help educate new moms about labor and delivery, breastfeeding, postpartum mental health, and more. She also played a pivotal role in reviving the local chapter of the Le Leche League, which now meets at the downtown Jackson-Madison County Library. The group had previously been trying to meet online, but Hollie was dissatisfied with that platform, missing those intimate moments of connection that can only happen in person.
“We need a community of mothers, mothering each other, mothering ourselves, mothering our babies,” she said as she described the dynamic of the group. I was struck by the image of a co-mothering community. Could Jackson be such a place? If it’s up to Hollie, it will be.
Hollie first started helping close friends and family with their postpartum nursing questions during the pandemic in 2020. As a floor nurse at Jackson-Madison County General Hospital, she saw how much fear was impacting both medical professionals and patients during that time, particularly those on the labor and delivery floor.
“Especially with breastfeeding, medical professionals didn’t want to get too close,” she told me. “You don’t want to get in a baby’s face. You don’t want to transmit anything, but you also don’t want to catch anything.”
Hollie’s friends who were having babies and struggling to care for them knew that she was a safe person to reach out to for help and insight. Despite the risks, she was determined to be there for them. “I don’t know anything about the virus, I don’t know anything about
COVID,” she recalls thinking, “but I’m going to teach you how to breastfeed.” Word quickly spread among her social circles, and demand began to rise for her services. That was the moment when she realized that this could be a feasible (and meaningful) full-time career.
“Life is too short,” she remembers thinking. “It’s time for me to go do what I love.” She left her job as a floor nurse and established Hub City Doula later that year.
Hollie’s passion for empowering mothers is especially evident in the priority she places on the postpartum period. She offers both daytime and nighttime doula services where she stays in the home with families, making herself available to feed or change the baby, rock the baby to sleep, and provide emotional and physical support to the mother. To her knowledge, there are no
other doulas in Jackson who offer postpartum overnight services.
“It’s such a sensitive time, and the mothers are really forgotten,” she said. “Once the baby comes, it can feel like the show stops for mom, and then the mom is on her own…” Hollie paused here, shaking her head, “I don’t want anyone to feel that way.”
Hollie told me she sometimes doesn’t take on too many births at a time so that she can be available for these postpartum services, and offer each client a high quality of care and presence. She also holds a mental health certification that is specifically tailored to the postpartum experience.
“I really focus on whole-woman wellness…we talk about childhoods, we talk about their families, we talk about everything. We tend to get real-
ly close…I have people reach out years after I’ve worked with them… if I’ve been your doula once, I’ll be your doula forever.”
I was continually struck when talking with Hollie by her quiet self-assurance and calming presence; I can easily see why a laboring woman would want to have Hollie by her side. Hollie herself has experienced all manner of birth stories with her own children; she’s birthed a baby in a car, one baby’s shoulder got stuck, one labor was induced. When she first meets with clients to see if they will be a good fit to work together, Hollie said she always wants to make space for that client to share her dreams and goals for her upcoming labor and delivery, but also to process any trauma the client may have endured prior to their meeting.
“Once the baby comes, it can feel like the show stops for mom, and then the mom is on her own. I don’t want anyone to feel that way.”
“I hold a lot of space for things that have happened in your past, so that when mom finds herself in labor, she’s not afraid.”
This is a unique benefit of doula services, the practice of holistic, whole-body care that considers an entire life history, not just a blood pressure reading on a screen. Despite the best efforts of prenatal care providers, it can often be difficult to provide the time and space for a holistic approach in a traditional medical office. Hollie prefers to meet with clients in homes or other calming environments and is optimistic when transforming past trauma into future birthing successes.
“Pregnancy can realign us in some ways. It produces the most potent oxytocin that you’ll ever have in your life,” Hollie described.
“What if at the moment you have those powerful hormones, everything is just right? What could that do for your journey as a woman?”
to be there for them as a witness to what they’ve been through.” It’s curious, that word “witness” — it sounds so much like with-ness. A determination that the suffering among us will not suffer alone, the burdened will find relief in a shared load, the mother birthing her child will find herself held, seen, and taken care of.
I asked Hollie what the most rewarding part of her job is. “Seeing moms win,” she answered, a smile blooming across her face, pride lighting up her eyes.
“I always think of the moms who don’t get to take home a baby. I grieve with them, too. I pray for those moms. No matter what the situation is, I want to be there for them as a witness to what they’ve been through."
Hollie could have no way of knowing how those words would impact me and my own experience of a traumatic birth, postpartum anxiety, and postpartum depression. Her compassion is a gift, the way she holds the weighty importance of a laboring mother in careful hands.
“I always think of the moms who don’t get to take home a baby. I grieve with them, too. I pray for those moms. No matter what the situation is, I want
Every woman’s success in finding her place within the realm of motherhood fuels Hollie’s joy. It’s what motivates her to stay up all night, week after week, with a stranger’s baby, washing bottles and changing diapers. Hollie has attended approximately 80 births in the Jackson area over the last four years; she is on call at all hours, providing support via text, video calls, and in person. For the past two years, Hollie has also single-handedly organized and hosted a Community Baby Shower at the Carl Perkins Center, where any new mother from the Jackson area can come and find celebration and support. At the most recent community shower in 2024, there were over 500 participants, and more than 2,000 free diapers were distributed. Lactation consultants were available for free assessments, and local OB-GYNs and their nurses were on site to meet with potential future pa-
tients. Hollie also sourced generous gift baskets and door prizes for attendees from local businesses; she described it as a win-win for the community, as local companies get free exposure while new moms have the chance to get out of the house and feel spoiled for an afternoon.
The role of a doula, Hollie told me, is often misunderstood. “It’s my job to help the client voice what they’re feeling…I think there’s a lot of opinions out there about how women should birth and reproduce, but it’s really no one’s business but the mother’s. There’s not a lot of veneration or appreciation for the importance of this time in a woman’s life, and I feel like that can
lead to a lot of despair for families. We want it to be joyful, a celebration, happy and fulfilling, so that they can lean into their role as a mother with the full support that they deserve.”
Doulas, she insisted, aren’t just for “crunchy” moms. She’s worked with every type of client, and her goal is for each woman to experience her version of a perfect birth, whatever that looks like.
“Doula comes from the Greek word [for] servant,” Hollie told me. “This is never about me; it’s about them.” She quieted, tears filling her eyes. “That’s how I view myself. I am the Hub City servant.”
making jackson ENDURING
WHO IS MAKING JACKSON ENDURING? WHO IS LEAVING A LASTING LEGACY THAT WILL BE AROUND FOR YEARS TO COME? WHO IS CREATING SPACES, EVENTS, CULTURE THAT WILL STAND THE TEST OF TIME?
Rhythms & Seasons
WEST TN FARMERS' MARKET
WRITTEN BY GABE HART PHOTOGRAPHED BY MIRZA BABIC
There’s a rhythm to this world, a give and take, an ebb and flow.
The sun rises and sets — the early light and fading dusk opening and closing our days with autonomic consistency.
Seasons gradually appear, peak, and then recede into the next — a cyclical pattern of denouement and exposition, an ending giving way to a beginning. To borrow a line from a local artist, “The world ain’t round; it’s just repeating.”
West Tennessee is situated in the heart of the Delta, a fertile area of flat land nourished by the Mississippi River. For centuries, the river has carved its way from Minnesota to Louisiana, swelling, receding, flooding, and nourishing, the excess water seeping into the ground — an elixir for the crops that have dotted the landscape since the tribes of Native Americans cultivated the land for corn,
squash, and gourds. Thousands of years later, crops from the same fields are still grown here.
Every Saturday from April to September, farmers from across West Tennessee gather in Downtown Jackson to sell their crops and prime cuts of meat from their livestock. Tucked under a pavilion nestled between restaurants, a Starbucks, and a fitness center sits the West Tennessee Farmers’ Market, the unmistakable green emanating from the roof.
On any given day during the warm months of the south, thousands of West Tennesseans will pass under the pavilion and scan the vibrant fruits and vegetables that line the length of the market. The canary yellows of the squash, the cool greens of the watermelons, and the balance of the lightest orange and white of a ripe peach provide a kaleidoscope of color
that both contrasts and complements the rich greens of the grass and trees of a West Tennessee summer. There isn’t much that exudes the energy of life quite like the experience of immersing yourself in the vitality of the Farmers’ Market.
But for all the hyperbolic language that accurately describes the setting of 91 New Market Street on glorious, sunny Saturdays, none of it happens without the behind-the-scenes work of Bruce Bond and Ricky Dawson.
Bruce and Ricky are the engines that propel the energy that’s felt each time the Farmers’ Market is open for business, and — like the engine of a machine — their work isn’t seen by most people.
Before directing the Farmers’ Market, Bruce knew little about it. When he was hired in 2014, however, he quickly realized its impact on the downtown area, which never would’ve
occurred without the vision of former Jackson mayor Charles Farmer.
The location of the Farmers’ Market on New Market Street wasn’t always its home. Before 1991, farmers simply set up in the parking lot of the old West Jackson Baptist Church, which has since been torn down to make way for new homes and apartment buildings — a big reason why the crowds on Saturdays are so large now. Mayor Farmer saw a need for the city to invest in a space that would support farmers from all over West Tennessee.
In the three decades since, the market has grown into a ceremonial Saturday event for residents in Jackson and beyond.
“When you think about this market, most of our vendors come from West Tennessee,” Bruce said. “You got them coming from Paris, Camden, Haywood, McNairy, Hardeman County. We even have one that comes
all the way from Kentucky.”
When the market is mentioned, most people think of a clear, bright Saturday morning with colors, crowds, and giant donuts; those are the hallmarks of the West Tennessee Farmers’ Market, but the purpose is a bit deeper.
Home-grown produce and freerange animals provide health benefits that far outweigh those found in processed foods. Unfortunately, most people don’t have access points for healthy alternatives. There are even people who are unable to brave the crowds on those Saturday mornings, and the market provides time and space to make sure everyone in the area has an opportunity to buy fresh food.
“We’re open Tuesday through Saturday,” Bruce explained. “Obviously, a lot of our vendors are here on Saturdays, but we have a drive-through market on Wednesdays for people who aren’t able to navigate the crowds on a Saturday. We have a lot of elderly people who want this type of food but don’t really want to fight the traffic and crowds on a Saturday morning. We’ve got to take care of them too, you know? They can pull right up to the vendor and say, ‘I need this and this, and the vendors will bring it to the car.’”
and summer. Along with the weekly Saturday extravaganza during these months, the market also provides a space for community events such as Christmas in the City and the Vintage Makers Fest — events that can galvanize a community. Ricky Dawson has seen this firsthand.
“We see it as family-friendly; this is where everybody meets up. It’s where everybody brings the kids to have fun. You know, in the park, they set out and enjoy their donuts.
"No matter how much it’s grown here, we still serve the same purpose they did almost 35 years ago. The market looks different throughout the year depending on the season, but each season serves a purpose for us."
The donut truck is one of the main attractions, but we have stuff here year-round, not just on Saturdays,” Ricky said.
Diversity is a common thread running through the market — diverse uses of the space, a diverse supply of fruits and vegetables, and diverse vendors. Diversity doesn’t happen by accident, though.
The Farmers’ Market is open year-round, not only on Saturdays during the warm months of spring
“When people request a spot, we want to make sure that we’re offering a wide array of vendors. Our only requirement is that whatever someone is selling is either handmade or hand-grown, but we also don’t want to overload the market with much of the same stuff. Baked goods is one of those where we sometimes need to be selective of how many vendors there are on a given day,” Bruce explained. “In the end, though, we want to provide a space that brings the community together.”
For Bruce and Ricky, Saturdays start early and end late, mirroring the
days of the farmers who travel to Hub City each week to sell what they’ve grown, the rhythm of each keeping a steady schedule — a beginning, middle, and end.
When the shadows start to lengthen, and the sunlight is refracted at a slightly lower angle, the harvest is done. The crowds on Saturday mornings don’t seem as big, and the vendors who pack the West Tennessee Farmers’ Market from April to September aren’t quite as plentiful; everyone can sense summer’s end.
Like the rhythms that have guided the planters and growers in West Tennessee for centuries, the West Tennessee Farmers’ Market also has a seasonal ebb and flow — a heightened
interval of colorful energy and a dormant span of rest and preparation that provides respite and renewed anticipation for the next round of sunny Saturdays in Downtown Jackson.
“A lot of the original vendors who started in the parking lot of the old church have passed away, but there are five of that original group who still set up here every Saturday,” Bruce explained. “The connection to that original group is important. No matter how much it’s grown here, we still serve the same purpose they did almost 35 years ago. The market looks different throughout the year depending on the season, but each season serves a purpose for us.”
The Process of Becoming LENDON
WRITTEN
BY
NOE
TRISTA HAVNER
PHOTOGRAPHED BY
CARI GRIFFITH
I have been enamored by trees for as long as I can remember. The weeping willow in our yard that sheltered me from the sun as I devoured Judy Bloom novels. The big maple tree in my neighbor’s yard that saw me swing from its flexible branches and break my fall with my right shoulder, landing me in a cast for most of second grade. The canopy of tree branches from so many old and beautiful trees that covered my husband and me as we said our vows to each other on the lawn of First Presbyterian Church. Recently, I was given a book all about trees, redwoods in particular. I learned that trees are vastly more intelligent than most humans understand and that they have a whole life beneath the earth that we likely never consider. We enjoy their fruit but often forget the work it takes to grow. I found myself wondering how small I’d feel standing under the shade of a redwood. Tennessee has no redwoods, but we do have oak trees. Tall and wide with vast root systems that dig deep into the earth, oak trees have long been a symbol of resilience and strength as they withstand weather and time. As I considered the oak tree, I began to see why I was so captivated by them. This tree, with its tendency for growth and strength and protection, reminded me of a woman I know.
Most oak trees have a nine hundred year life span — three hundred years to grow, three hundred years to live, and three hundred years to mature. In that life cycle, the bark of the oak adapts to the needs of the tree in those three phases of life. The bark starts smooth as the young tree shoots up and grows, laying the foundation for new bark. In the second phase, the bark becomes rough and thickens to protect the tree from the elements and any outside
forces that might damage the tree. In its final stages, the tree bark loosens and opens, allowing wildlife to shelter and feed in its crevices. As I was tasked to write an article for this particular journal with the theme of “enduring” in mind, I thought of no better person to feature than Lendon Noe. And I could think of no better metaphor to describe the full and abundant and hard and beautiful life that Lendon is living than the mighty and enduring oak tree.
As a native Jacksonian, I have known who Lendon Noe is for a long time. I admired her work and commissioned her art for my own home long before I really knew her. After Havner’s moved downtown and added the gallery, Lendon started popping up in my shop and in my life more and more. We have shared conversations over meals and while she painted in the shop, and each time I left her I would always think to myself, “That is a conversation I will remember.” She thinks deeply, takes in every idea and turns it over in her mind until she understands it. She listens well and tells stories that highlight the people and the places that have made her. She speaks kindly and carefully but never takes herself too seriously. I met her over lunch (well, two lunches because neither of us are short on words) to ask her questions about her life, the highs and lows and the ways in which she felt her legacy would be remembered. I wrote it all down and left her, terrified to write this piece because how do you convey enduring qualities about someone you regard so highly? Every idea felt too small. And then it hit me: Lendon is an oak tree. Lendon’s smooth bark years, the years of her childhood and early
adult life, were spent in search — of inspiration, of knowledge, and of a way to reckon with the way the world was changing around her. Lendon grew up in Jackson, in a house her family built on Arlington Avenue between Lambuth Boulevard and Hollywood Drive. At that time, Arlington was a wide expanse of land hosting her family’s house and nothing more. As a child, Lendon leaned more in the direction of a “tomboy” than a southern belle, and her mother encouraged her to be authentically herself. She was multi-faceted and had varying interests and abilities, including basketball and music and reading, always reading. She did not conform to the societal norm of the traditional 1950s, and literature and her love of folk music (which centered around the counterculture movement of the 1960s) further impressed upon her ideals of independence and intellectualism. She found that she was artistically inclined at an early age and loved pouring over Mad and Life magazines as inspiration for her art, finding the most inspiration in cartoons and advertisements. (She attributes her use of negative space in her art to a specific Volkswagen Beetle advertisement in a Life Magazine.) Despite there being no art program in K-12 schools in Jackson at the time, she entered and won every poster design contest and grew her artistic skills.
"There were untold moments of joy, but life has a way of hardening our bark, and Lendon is no exception. "
the interdisciplinary nature of the program. It was at Rollins that Lendon began to see connections between previously unrelated ideas, and her brain began to hardwire that ability to find relationship. Her college years were colored by the Vietnam War and the protests of the counterculture movement, and those feelings she felt as a girl of resistance began to find a home and left a lasting impact on her thinking about education and art. Lendon would graduate from Rollins in 1972 with a degree in English Literature and Art, spend a year at a fabulous program in Denver where she studied live models and the human form, and earn a master’s degree in Art Education from the University of Tennessee at Knoxville before coming back to Jackson to teach art at the Old Hickory Academy. These smooth bark years of growth and personal discovery allowed Lendon to build a foundation of deep knowing of herself, letting what she did not need slide off and laying the bedrock for new bark.
After her high school graduation, she left Jackson for Winter Park, Florida, to attend Rollins College and major in English Literature. She loved the proximity to the coast and
Lendon never intended to stay in Jackson. But an opportunity came along to be the first paid Executive Director of the Jackson Arts Council, and she simply could not pass it up. That, coupled with getting married and having a son and aging parents who were still in Jackson, kept Lendon home. These were her rough bark years. As she navigated her professional and personal life, she began to form tough bark that protected and insulated her from the hardships of adult life. There were untold moments of joy, but
life has a way of hardening our bark, and Lendon is no exception.
After stepping down from her director position with the arts council after the birth of her son, Lendon worked in the schools as a K-6 art teacher before joining the staff at Lambuth University in the art department full-time in 1985. There, she created curriculum heavily influenced by her days at Rollins in interdisciplinary studies, and pioneered many new courses and opportunities for her students, including graphic design by introducing the first computer in the department and creating junior and senior courses centered around problem-solving through reading, writing, and art. Lendon pushed her students to develop their own ideas and interpretations, to distinguish fact from opinion and to recognize bias, all skills she is artful at herself. She also earned a Master of Fine Arts in painting and mixed media, which heavily influenced her own art and teaching as she learned from artists from programs all over the country. She taught painting and drawing and was a pillar of the department.
suddenly losing a place she loved so dearly caused her bark to form thick and rough. Her tree had grown, its core strong and roots deep, but her bark served as a protection from forces beyond her control.
But Lendon was resilient. In those years post-Lambuth, as she had to find ways to survive as an aging artist, she entered into her mature bark years — still rough and thick, but loosening. After losing her studio at Lambuth in 2011, Lendon was offered a studio in the old Griffin funeral home, which she gladly accepted. She worked from that studio until 2018, when she began to build her own home studio, which she operates out of currently.
"Her legacy is one of enduring things, and it will echo for many Jackson generations through our ability to see and question and respond with care."
As I sat and listened to her recount her days at Lambuth, I could feel her love and sincerity. She still feels a connection to the place and the people that is real and deep. As I listened to her explain the years after Lambuth closed, the contrast was stark. She grieved the loss of this time and space, calling this period in her life the “saddest she has ever experienced.” She poured so much of herself into those years and
All the while, she taught workshops and made art while she pieced together what she wanted this next chapter in her life to look like. She attributes the Jackson community for literally helping her survive those early postLambuth years through signing up for workshops, offering her space to work, commissioning art, and hosting shows for her. Again, I could sense the sincerity in her voice when she explained that “the community truly kept (her) afloat and stepped up to help when (she) was struggling most.”
Because of this support, she has created meaningful bodies of work in this last decade and a half, through her work for the bicentennial and the Rockabilly portraits that our community will forever cherish. Though not in a classroom, Lendon is always teaching and offering pieces of herself, and her art beckons that her
audience look and really see. And that is what loose bark of an oak tree does! In its maturing, it loosens and cracks wider to allow wildlife to nest and feed in its bark, protected from whatever hopes to harm it. The bark offers respite and care and a safe space to rest. If you know Lendon, this could not be more true of her. She has offered me, time and time again, a safe space to open and marvel and question with no fear of judgment. Her loose bark is a beautiful outward sign of the work and growth that has taken place within.
As I wrapped up our two-part interview, I asked Lendon what she hoped her legacy would be. How would she want to be remembered? She struggled to give an answer to such a complex and comprehensive question. How do you sum up a lifetime of being and doing? Again, Lendon is like the mighty oak. Does an oak tree know that its branches will provide shade to generations? Does it know that its wood is the perfect building material, strong and lasting, even after it falls? No. But it is compelled to keep growing. This is the part of the metaphor that rings the most true for Lendon. She is compelled to grow, committed to the process of becoming. Her legacy is one of enduring things, and it will echo for many Jackson generations through our ability to see and question and respond with care, skills she has taught and modeled her entire life. She has continued to reach towards the light and dig roots deep into our community, and in doing so, has created a haven for discovery and reflection, the very concepts that propel communities toward necessary change that make a place more inclusive and thoughtful. Like an oak, she has quietly grown tall and strong, and we will sit under her shade for generations.
thank you to our
2024 Neighbors
INDIVIDUALS
RICKY & PATRICIA SANTOS | DARIN HOLLINGSWORTH | ALEX RUSSELL | THE HARDIN
FAMILY | ANNA ESQUIVEL | ALLISON SHIPP| MANDY WHITE | ONTONI REEDY | BARARA LUTZ | JONATHAN AND DR. TERESA MCSWEENEY |SYDNEY SPARKES | ANN VAN DER LINDER | JENNIFER TRENTLY | BETHANY WELBORN | LUCAS GLIDEWELL | BRENDA HARDIN
BUSINESS NEIGHBORS
TURNTABLE COFFEE COUNTER | TENNESSEE INDUSTRIAL PRINTING | EDWARD
JONES, WESLEY BROWN| JACKSON ENERGY AUTHORITY | ADELSBERGER
MARKETING| GARNER BLUE |MODERN ANCIENT MYSTICISM | TLM | LEADERS
CREDIT UNION | JAN-PRO DEVELOPMENT | JACKSON STATE COMMUNITY
COLLEGE | HILLER PLUMBING | JACKSON CLINIC OB/GYN DEPARTMENT | COMMUNITY FOUNDATION OF WEST TENNESSEE | GREATER JACKSON CHAMBER | VISIT JACKSON | KATIE HALE TEAM AT TOWN & COUNTRY REALTORS | PERSONNEL PLACEMENTS | HAVEN INSURANCE | ATA | LAMBUTH AREA NEIGHBORHOOD ASSOCIATION | ASIA GARDEN | HUB CITY BREWING
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IN THIS ISSUE Contributors
ERIC ARCHER is a writer, videographer, and Jackson, TN native. Per aforementioned career titles he enjoys writing, making videos, and telling stories in exciting and compelling ways. When Eric isn't writing or making videos he is spending time with his son Emerson — more than likely rewatching Ducktales for the millionth time.
MIRZA BABIC is a multi-talented creative, adept at weaving captivating narratives through both visual and written forms of expression. With a foundation in photography and content creation, Mirza brings stories to life with a keen eye for detail and a flair for engaging storytelling. Beyond the lens, Mirza's versatility extends to music, where a passion for music production and a commitment to excellence shine through. Mirza is dedicated to crafting compelling narratives and immersive experiences that leave a lasting impact.
DAN BATTLE is a self-taught photographer and filmmaker. He has the artistic ability to display beauty in unexpected places.
CARRIE CANTRELL is a Milan native, boy mom and photographer. With a decade of experience in storytelling through her lens, she has a keen eye for capturing authentic moments. Balancing her role as a Community Engagement Specialist with her passion for photography, she values spending quality time with her sons, family, and close
friends. Her love for exploring in nature, travel and enjoying live music serves as a source of inspiration and balance in both her personal and professional life.
LIZZIE EMMONS is the Program Director of Our Jackson Home. She is a passionate advocate for the arts and culture sector with experience in arts and nonprofit administration, visual art, and music performance. Lizzie has a Bachelor of Arts in Music, Master of Science in Education, and a certificate in Arts Management. She lives in midtown Jackson with her husband, Jerry, and dogs, Frankie and Rue.
ANNA ESQUIVEL is a professor, traveler, and amateur gardener. She's been teaching writing and literature for almost 20 years and is deeply committed to helping folks navigate the creative process. She directs study abroad programs in Europe and has facilitated writing retreats in Mexico and France. She is a member of the Jackson International Food and Art Festival Executive Committee and enjoys fostering cultural connections both locally and internationally.
HANNAH GORE is a photographer, writer, and artist from Jackson, Tennessee, who currently lives in the nearby town of Medina. She seeks to capture the heart and soul of Jackson through authentic storytelling in both visual and written form. Hannah currently owns her own photography business and specializes in live music, event, and portrait photography.
CARI GRIFFITH is a gardener and a photographer with a lifelong affection for seed sowing and storytelling. She lives a sweet life in midtown with her husband, Rob. She spends most of her time behind a computer or a camera, or teaching college students to appreciate the good light. Her most treasured moments are eating dinner with her friends both at home and afar.
GABE HART is an Instructional Coach at Jackson Central-Merry High School. A lifelong Jacksonian, Gabe is a product of the Jackson-Madison County School System and has taught English in JMCSS for 14 years. Along with contributing to Our Jackson Home, Gabe also writes monthly columns for Tennessee Lookout, weekly columns for The Jackson Post, and has been published in The Tennessean. When he's not in Jackson, he's most likely traveling with his partner, Laura, or spending time with her in her hometown of Philadelphia.
TRISTA HAVNER is a born-and-raised Jackson girl, a mom, wife, and small business owner. She and her husband, Charlie, have a charming local family business and are passionate about the history there. Trista can be found putting together frames in her family’s shop or lettering anything that will hold still. Her love for home grows daily, and she is passionate about being an agent of growth and positive change in her beloved Hub City.
ESTHER JONES is a Maryland native who moved to Jackson in 2019 to complete her English degree at Union University. She lives with her husband, Wesley, and their dog, Otis. Her favorite things are contemporary fiction novels and Pinterest vision boards, and she doesn't know what she would do without em dashes.
MADDIE MCMURRY serves as Editorin-Chief of Our Jackson Home and Communications Manager at theCO. She came to Jackson to attend Union
University, where she graduated with a degree in journalism and decided to stay in Jackson and make it her home. She is a writer and photographer who loves telling real and authentic stories from behind the camera or on the page. In her spare time, she loves spending time with her husband, Zach, hosting people, traveling, and baking cakes.
AUSTIN THOMPSON'S path to Jackson took some unexpected turns, but it’s where he found his true home. Originally from San Jose, California, he built his life and businesses here, finding a sense of community and purpose through theCO. Jackson, once a stop along the way, has become the place where Austin thrives, surrounded by family, friends, and the town that helped shape his future.
BETHANY WELBORN has lived in Jackson for the past 14 years in the midtown home she shares with her husband and two children. She practices her accents on her dog, Sebastian, who generously wags his tail at all her jokes. Bethany often stays up too late reading her (overdue) library book, frequently says she’s going to “run errands” so she can go shop at City Thrift, usually laughs too loudly in public places, and always wishes it could be summertime. She works part-time as an intake coordinator for a local mental health counseling office, and is also a full-time homeschool teacher. You can follow her writing on Substack at Ever Discerning.
KRISTI WOODY is a freelance photographer and storyteller. Her photography work spans from headshots for Jackson's finest to family portraits to food photography at local restaurants, but her specialty is weddings. She also works part-time in SEO marketing and enjoys the data and detail-oriented nature of that work. In her free time, Kristi enjoys reading and spending time with her husband, daughter and rambunctious beagle, Rhett, Liliana and Chipper respectively.
