Taylorsville, Mississippi: It’s a tiny place in South Mississippi. A guy in a blue Chevrolet pick-up truck drives past me, raises his hand on the steering wheel, and waves as if he knows me. I don’t know him, but I wave back. I’m pretty sure that if I tried that in New York City I’d be assaulted and or arrested. My dad had a habit of always waving at approaching vehicles, one hand on the wheel and the other hand holding a Pall Mall cigarette (ashes on the seat and floorboard). If a hand was empty, it’d be holding a cup of sugar and milk, with a touch of coffee.…