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Yaunah Hairston

Wednesday, 08 September 2010 15:39

Reflections on the blues in Soulard

I first heard the blues when I was a girl. Transported from their Delta homes and left to the big city, my raucous aunts would pay the bills by holding rent parties in their basements, selling fish dinners and taking furtive sips from small flasks of whiskey nestled in their ample bosoms and swaying their hips to blue, wailing notes well past dawn.

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