rubin, of, richard confederate silence, true tale of the south, and paul henderson in his book sons of mississippi, use the store, the remains, as a place of memory, but also revealing this interesting balance of forgetfulness and memory and the need to be there and touch, and the fearsome presence. henderson begins with a physical description. it is made of wood and brick and cinderblock from across the road it seems like something almost i'my as if -- papery as if a dream. once it was a grocery store. now it is a fallen down building in an all but deserted place called money. it is its own kind of american shrine. nearly every mississippi story sooner or later touches this one, and sucked in some spiritual homing way right here -- ends up in some spiritual homing way right here. it just is a monument forgotten, recalcitrant, collapsing in on itself, set against memory and wind of these five decades of change and non-change in america race relations. the book was written a few years ago now. richard rubin often went to the store when he worked as a reporter in mississippi and tried in