bless their bones...

Fatman's Fried Dill Pickles

2011-05-26T10:47:00.000-07:00

One of the little oddities of my region is the neighboring town's former claim to fame: "The Dill Pickle Capitol of the World."

The loss of the Atkins Pickle Plant, victim to merges and a failing economy, hasn't dampened the correlating claim as being the home of Fatman's Original Fried Dill Pickles.

He’s mentioned in The Encyclopedia of Arkansas, and his creation, Fatman’s Original Fried Dill Pickles, is to Atkins’ natives what nectar is to bees. In fact, for the lines of folks who flock to the booth during the annual PickleFest the event just wouldn’t be the same without the unique breaded tartness of Fatman’s pickles.

Born Bernell Austin in 1921, but known throughout his entire life as “Fatman,” he cooked in the Navy and ended up leaving a culinary legacy to his hometown community when he passed in 1999, son David Austin said.

Under a constant threat of severe thunderstorms which were in effect on Friday, the Austin family labored under a canopy at the same corner in downtown that they’ve occupied since 1992 when the first PickleFest convened.

“Last year, the water was so high we were backed up all the way to the sidewalk,” Austin said, and gestured to the much higher ground off the street level. “That didn’t slow down the customers, though.”

And so dozens of fans, half of them peering from under brightly colored umbrellas, patiently waited in line for their yearly fix.

“It all began when my dad ran a drive-in restaurant called the Duchess right across the street from the Atkins Pickle Plant,” Austin continued. “He was always trying new things to attract customers, and one day in the summer of ’63, when business was slow, he decided he needed to capitalize on the whole pickle theme.”

Oh, the fried pickle concept wasn’t new, he admitted, “but my dad thought he could do it better.”

Fatman first toyed with jarred pickle slices, ala hamburger-style. “He was a typical Southerner,” Austin said. “Deep frying was the only way he even considered cooking them.”

He sold them, 25 for 15 cents.

“From day one, they were a complete hit, but dad wasn’t completely thrilled with them and was always devising new recipes for the batter,” Austin added. “One thing he thought was that the jarred pickles were too salty, so he moved on to fresh pickles and started slicing them long-ways and came up with a batter that worked.”

They were so popular Morton Frozen Foods (now ConAgra) approached him and expressed interest in buying the recipe, Austin said.

“He wouldn’t sell it for anything, and when the company told him they could take a sample to their lab and figure out what ingredients were used in the batter, my dad told them it wasn’t the ingredients alone that was important but how you added them that made the difference,” he said. “It is tricky to make a batter that sticks to the pickle.”

Fatman opened a restaurant called the Loner in 1968, to take advantage of the traffic resulting from the newly built Interstate 40. He took the Original Fried Dill Pickle with him and for 10 years the local diners were joined by traveling Arkansas Razorback fans who routinely stopped for the iconic pickles.

After closing the restaurant, Fatman and his family joined the PickleFest festivites never dreaming their business under two white tents would perpetuate their pickles for 20 more years, Austin said. “And the support is as strong as ever.”

The secret is safe within the family ranks. “We’re the only ones who have the recipe, and that’s the only way it’s ever been,” Austin said.

“I grew up with a sister and a brother, and we all worked after school and during the summers at the restaurant,” he continued. “Some of us started out standing on coke crates washing dishes.”

David and Karen, ConAgra employees, take a week of vacation to make preparations and run the pickle venue. They are joined by David’s sister Sharon, their mother Sue and four members of the up and coming generation.

“Mom and dad worked side by side. They met as teenagers when they both worked at Sadie and Jack’s (Atkins restaurant from way back). She took care of him until the day we lost him,” Austin said. “PickleFest keeps her active, and she sees so many friends that e only sees that one time a year. She loves hearing the memories. You couldn’t get her to stay home during the festival.”

We serve ketchup and ranch dressing, but every one of us generally likes them plain,” he said.

“People would always asked my dad what they tasted like,” Austin began, “and one day he said, ‘Stupid, what do you think they taste like? Pickles!’ Finally, one day a woman asked, and my father told her they tasted like ice cream. That’s become a family joke.”

Now that the Atkins pickles are no more, the Austins use Vlasic dills purchased in 5 gallon tubs.

“It takes a good, hard month of preparation to put this pickle frying marathon on every year,” Austin said. “And then theres’ the standing all day and leaning over the deep fryer. If it wasn’t for the guys at the Masonic lodge helping we just couldn’t do it all. We typically fry 10,000 pickle slices for PickleFest.”

All the proceeds from the pickle sales, $3300.00 from this year’s sales, are directed to and dispersed by Atkins Masonic Lodge 172 to support the charities close to the heart of Fatman and his family.

The family enterprise has entered into the modern age, somewhat, with the opening of a Facebook fan page. “We recently celebrated our 1,000th member,” Austin said. “People have shared such wonderful memories about my dad on that page.”

The pickle is still king in Atkins, and the local economy continues to profit from PickleFest where a preponderance of pickle-related endeavors such as the pickle eating and pickle juice drinking contests draw the natives home and the curious from far and wide.

Sucking up the delicacy, Jagger Hendrix and Molly Gibson, members of the Atkins Red Devil softball team, are on a rush to leave town for a game.

“But we couldn’t leave without eating our pickles,” Gibson said. “We’ve been eating them since we were, like, babies.”

She adds, “There’s other people who make these, but they don’t compare.”

Her companion agreed, “There’s absolutely no caparison,” Hendrix said.

"It's what our family is known for,” Austin said.

Fatman’s Original Fried Dill Pickles will be selling at the 64 Galore Yard Sale slated for August 12-14 at Mrs. Fatman’s home 3 miles east of Atkins. “We’ll have our banner up, so you can find us,” Austin said. “Even if you don’t want pickles, stop by and visit if you get the chance. We’re always glad to see everyone.”

Recipe for Ice Box Pickles
Submitted by Sue Austin (Fatman's wife)

Ingredients:
Approximately 4 cups cucumbers, sliced into chips
1 green bell pepper, chopped
1 1/2 cups sliced onions
1 tablespoon celery seed
2 cups white sugar
White vinegar, quantity needed to fill jars

Directions:
Fill canning jars with cucumbers, peppers, onions, celery seed and sugar, cover with vinegar, seal and place in refrigerator for 2 days. Remove from refrigerator and eat. Refrigerate uneaten portion. Makes 1/2 gallon.

She Sells Seashells from the Mountains

2011-05-15T11:02:00.000-07:00

All roads in the little Arkansas town nestled in the Ozarks Mountain seemed to lead me to Miss Billie.

At the bed and breakfast I stayed in I saw evidence of her handiwork and the proprietess directed me to Miss Billie. At the local pizza joint I recognized her handiwork, and the owner directed me to Miss Billie, and, finally, at the farmers market I discovered yet another of her marvels sitting on the counter of the polk sallet farmer, and, before he could direct me I knew I'd be paying a visit to Miss Billie.

Leading a quiet and significant life in the community as a volunteer at the food pantry and active church member, the 84 year old retiree is living out her dream of spreading God's love.

"The Lord granted me the privilege of serving as a nurse in Haiti for a two year assignent when I was younger," she said. "It was the highlight of my nursing career."

The woman, who lost her mother at the tender age of 5, was raised by relatives and wished simply to serve and live a life of purpose. Her heart was touched by the mission opportunities abroad, but she chose nursing as a practical measure and quietly lived her life.

Upon retiring her healing hands, however, Miss Billie felt compelled to spread the gospel through other means.

It all started, she said, with seashells gifted to her by a friend.

"I just thought the shells would make a perfect canvas for little prayers and verses," she said, "and so I inscribed the shells using the smallest marker I could possibly find."

Miss Billie stuffed a few shells in her pockets every time she left home and began gifting them to others as the Lord led her, she said.
She never attempted to match the verse to the recipient but left that in God's hands.

"I just put my hand in my pocket, and whatever shell I touched I gave away," she added. She wasn't expecting what happened next.

"Why, people would cry when they read the scripture, and I was worried I'd done something wrong," she said.

There was no need to worry. The shells had simply unleashed deep held emotions.

"One man told me he'd received the Lord early in his life but because of a lot of misfortunes, including the recent death of his wife, he had begun questioning his early teachings. The shell I gave him told him how much God loved him," Miss Billie said, in an astonished tone.

That reaction replayed over and over these past few years.

One of God’s provisions is the shells. “People just leave bags of shells on my front porch all the time,” she said. “A friend of mine went to Scotland and brought me shells, and I’ve been given shells from Spain, Ireland, the Caribbean islands and even Iran. A sweet couple who visits every year even sent me a box of shells from New Zealand. They were the most beautiful shells I ever saw. I forgot how much she had to pay to send me that box all the way from New Zealand. She even cleaned and wrapped each one in tissue,” she marveled.

Part of the charm is the shells themselves, Miss Billie said, because they are beautiful, and no two are alike. And the broken shells are her favorite because that’s what God does. “He makes something beautiful out of our dirty old lives.”

When teacher friends spread the shells throughout New York, they were quick to point out, after the destruction of 9/11, that they had saturated the Twin Towers with the shells. “They asked me if I realized that my shells were with those poor souls in the tower,” she said. “That really touched me.”

Miss Billie has responded to many requests from admirers who ask for shells to take to other patients receiving chemo treatments, shells to take to prisoners, and shells to take to nursing home patients.

She denys no one.

Her hobby turned global overnight. “The first foreign Bible friends brought me from their travels was a Farsi Bible, so I began writing versus in that language. Before you know it, a mission group heading to Iran took those shells with them on their trip and scattered them everywhere. Then, things just snowballed, and I received Bibles in Spanish, Italian, German and even Swahili,” she said.

A youth group headed to Africa carried a suitcase full of the shells written in Swahili. "They were so excited," Miss Billie said. "There are a lot ofplaces that Bibles aren't welcome, but everyone accepts shells."

There is a rhythm to the shell preparation. “I always bleach and scrub the shells first,” she said, “and then they have to dry in order to hold the ink.”

Although the shells are plentiful, the ink is measured out, stroke by stroke. The Rapidograph pens with their tubular nibs are the markers of choice for Miss Billie, but at $35 apiece, they are pricey. Although she was known to have an exemplary hand as a child and practice the art of calligraphy, she tones down her script for the shells.

“It would miss the point if people couldn’t read the message,” she said, “if folks got carried away in my curly Qs, so I don’t use all my fancy strokes.”

What Biss Billie does use is her time and her talents to serve the Lord.

Nothing to do but work!

2011-03-15T06:28:00.000-07:00

Meet my new friend "Miss Oleta." She's 81 years young and lives in the tiny community of Fifty-Six in the Ozark Mountains, a place with no senior activity center or much else for that matter.

After babysitting the local children in her home for years, she had to admit she wasn't as spry as she used to be and quit. But she wasn't ready to quit on life, and so she began to work three days a week at the local, and only, restaurant busing tables and washing dishes.

"My husband passed away a long time ago, and I'm all alone," she said. "I needed to get out."

Miss Oleta remembers a lot of the history surrounding her as she's never lived anywhere else. She remembers walking to school three miles each way, and she proudly announces that she, her husband and their son were all baptized in the waters of Roasting Ear Creek, “the coldest creek there is.”

She doesn’t cook much anymore, and much of the time she eats at the restaurant, known for catfish, steaks, shrimp, homemade rolls, pies and daily specials. “My favorite is the chicken strips,” she said, “and the pecan pie.”

“I have to say she’s the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met. She won’t let anyone cut her grass or cut her wood,” the restaurant owner said.

“But she does let us take her home,” a customer nearby added. “We don’t make her walk anymore.”

Fat Tony's

2011-01-30T16:28:00.000-08:00

Okay, he's a little fluffy, but I wouldn't go so far as to say he's fat. The man from Russellville says he used to be a lot bigger. He IS 6 feet tall and weighs upward of 270 - he's just a big Arkansas boy in my book.

Tony is an awesome listener say his customers at Fat Tony's Barber Shop on Arkansas Avenue, also know as Highway 7, just down the road from Arkansas Tech University. Only 23 years old, he's been cutting hair for several years already.

Really interesting thing, on first glance, is the little graveyard of unmarked tombstones which sit outside his front door and underneath his barber pole and an American flag. This way, he says, he can advertise for both his businesses.

Fat Tony is an accomplished tombstone carver. He takes great care in his craft and I follow him to the local cemetery to see his handiwork for myself.

I look at the pads and thick fingers making up Fat Tony's hands and wonder how he can produce such fine writing and intricate designs.

It's just a gift, he says the way a country boy would hang his head and mutter, "Aw, shucks."

Art comes in all forms, and I suppose the hands of an artist who uses his creativity to cut and design hair wouldn't have all that much trouble holding a delicate tool and chiseling sentiments on marble.

It's a Wonderful Life

2010-01-18T20:38:00.000-08:00

It's a Wonderful Life here in the River Valley and Ozark regions of Arkansas, and here are two locals to prove it.

Mary and George Bailey (as in the characters in the popular and sentimental Christmas movie) have been married 75 years.

Both life-long educators, he being made principal of the school, they never tired of working side by side.

Mary is a hospice patient now. She doesn't remember things too well. She forgets words and when she works herself up into a lather he calms her down.

George can't see too well, but he proclaims she is the prettiest girl he ever did see. "And smart, too," he likes to add. Although she forgets how to dress at times, Mary looks out for George and moves furniture, so he can move about and reaches out her hand to steady him.

May this belated holiday story inspire you to love and to reach out to those who need you.

Blue Ribbon Babes

2009-10-11T19:14:00.000-07:00

Blue Ribbon Babes

It's that time of year, when county and state fairs take advantage of the cooler weather to prop up some rides, roast some dogs, drizzle powdered sugar on funnel cakes and put out their finest.

Just had to share this photo of two girls in a neighboring county who won Best of Show in the junior baking competitions. Both learned from their mamas, of course, and both mamas also won ribbons in the adult (or Senior) category.

Christah, left, beat out her mother's cookies. They grew a bumper crop of pumpkins and made everything from pumpkinsauce (instead of applesauce) to cookies, cakes and muffins. They "put up a whole lot." I always liked the term "put up." Mama said the easiest way to store the pumpkin was simply to freeze the pumpkin meat in large baggies.

Rachel, right, chose to make her favorite recipe, an old favorite found in nearly every church cookbook, Million Dollar Fudge. She loves all things chocolate she said. Gee, a girl after my own heart.

Try the following recipes to put you in the proper fall state of mind:

Pumpkin Drop Cookies

by Christah

Ingredients:

2 cups flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon cinnamon
¼ cup butter
½ teaspoon salt
1 egg
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 cup pumpkin
¾ cup Crisco
Directions:

Mix dry ingredients in one bowl. Cream butter and Crisco together once creamed and add pumpkin and egg. Slowly add dry ingredients to wet. Drop by spoonfuls onto greased and floured cookie sheets. Bake at 350 degrees for 12 minutes.

Mamie Eisenhower’s Million Dollar Fudge
submitted by Rachel
Ingredients:

4 ½ cups sugar
Pinch of salt
2 tablespoons butter
1 2/3 cups evaporated milk (1 tall cup)
12 ounces semisweet chocolate
12 ounces German’s sweet chocolate
1 pint (7 ounces jar) marshmallow crème
2 cups shopped nuts (optional)

Directions:

Combine sugar, salt, butter and milk in large heavy pan. Boil six minutes stirring occasionally. Pour boiling syrup over chocolate in a bowl. Beat until chocolate is melted. Stir in marshmallow crème and nuts. Pour into buttered 13x9x2-inch pan. Let cool several hours or until firm. Cut into squares and store in airtight container.

Art Church Rocks

2009-10-03T13:08:00.000-07:00

There is an old church across the mountains In Hot Springs that has found a second life.

The church houses a wonderful family dedicated to keeping the integrity of the building and finding creative ways to fit into the ecclectic community.

As luck would have it, the two are artists. They, along with their teenage son, live in the main floor of the church, also know as the sanctuary where personal living space lies behind carved wooden doors. The pews have been pushed to the side, and the large main area is partly studio, partly gallery.

In the basement are the works of other artists, and the local sustainablity group uses the common area in the kitchen for the weekly pickup.

All that is exciting enough, but the Art Church opens its doors during the week for after-school programing and summer camps where kids get to do art! How cool is that! Especially when so many schools and communities have suffered cuts in funding.

We've known for a long time that our brains work better when we are engaged in creative outlets, and we all realize how important it is for children to have opportunites to shine. Kudos to the Art Church and all other endeavors working to promote a healthier - and more beautiful environment.

Father of the Year

2009-09-25T19:08:00.000-07:00

Here you have my friend Harold who last year was voted the Father of the Year of Plainview, small town of 755 citizens, in Yell County. This is not a picture of all his children in the wagon. These kids represent a fraction of the youth he has mentored, sponsored and befriended in his tenure as the town's substitute dad. You see, Harold never had kids of his own. Nada. Never even been married. How's that for something to chew on?

Harold, who worked for years as a rodeo clown, is a cowboy and a retired lineman for the county. He dedicated his life to Christ some years ago and began his work with the wayward children of the small town nestled in the River Valley, hemmed in my Fourche Mountain and dwarfed by the shadow of Mt. Nebo.

Admirers of Harold, who nominated him for the award, brag on his agreeable nature. He's the babysitter when single moms are in a pinch.

We are lucky indeed to know folks with dedication like Harold. The youth are worth it.

Too Much Rain/ Too Much Dogs

2009-09-20T09:22:00.000-07:00

The hometeam lost to the Georgia Bulldogs yesterday, 52-41, over there in Fayetteville. Bless thier big, meaty bones. More than 74,000 folks crowded the stands - the fifth largest attendance ever. Wasn't enough to get our boys a win though. Too bad, too. We've had a heck off a time getting into the groove in all ways down here.

Don't know how you are settin' where you are, but we are mostly drowning. We've had our share of rain plus some, and our agri-based state has felt at odds all summer and into the fall. This gentleman farmer can't get into the fields to cut the hay. Can't do nothin' he said. He went to the local cafe in Centerville, town of 400, for the biscuits and gravy breakfast and set out on the front porch greeting everyone as they came by, most in the same straits as him. Notice the spittoon for his Skoal?

Here' s hoping you find a comfortable place to perch when the waters get too high or the dogs bite too hard....

Master of the Grill at Oddly Named Festival

2009-09-12T18:48:00.001-07:00

We love our meats grilled in the South, whether that be cow, rabbit, emu, deer, buffalo or chicken on the racks. Everything's just a whole lot better when it's been slow cooked over low burning coals. At least that's what Jesse Owens, extension agent, told me.

Jesse has been grilling for over 30 years at an annual festival in the southern part of the state to raise money for the local 4H clubs. The festival is called Malvern Brickfest.

Anyway, we who wouldn't know the first thing about starting a grill, are indebted to the dedication and sweat of our grillmasters. Burn, baby, burn!

God's Little Half Acre

2009-09-01T10:41:00.000-07:00

Unlike Erskine Caldwell's, God's Little Acre, there's no hanky panky going on at God's Little Half Acre on Highway 7 in the Ozarks. After all, it is a final resting place with tombstones dating as far back as the mid 1800s.

After driving past this little fenced in plot of land for many years, I finally gave into curiosity and stopped. I'm glad I did. Cemeteries can shed some interesting light.

There were the usual infant markers for daughters and sons birthed and lost in the same year, several veterans and even a tombstone for James Freeman, C.O.D., who served in the 2nd Arkansas Calvary. The information is encircled in a type of marshall or sheriff badge. Now, what in the world does that mean?

Of utmost interest, however, is the tombstone which appears to have been scraped over with a knife, and the name Spciy Freeman was written on it with a stick. How very rudimentary and odd! Almost as if the death had been unexpected, and so a batch job was executed on an existing tombstone. The poor soul didn't even warrant a proper header. Wonder if he/she was a scoundrel? The family certainly didn't take pride in putting him to rest.

Also very peculiar in this little stretch of ground is the mound of rocks, some border plots like little rock fences, but there are no markers or tombstones.

Sad to see many of the markers are so old the writing has been worn away.

In rural spaces, as much of the Ozarks continues to be, regulation of such entities as cemeteries remains in the hands of local communities. This cemetery is so rural, even though it is on a well-traveled highway, that the closest house is at least 15 miles away.

I will keep y'all updated as I find out more info.

Cowgirls for Christ

2009-08-28T22:17:00.000-07:00

Cowgirls for Christ is a local support group and ministry for girls who want to rodeo in a Christian environment. They travel to several local arenas on Sunday afternoons and host a casual worship service in the stands.

I'm glad we live in an area where adult mentors come together to nurture whole generations of young people in safe environments.

As my grandmother would say,"Thanks be to God."

Old South Still Kicking

2009-08-25T06:57:00.000-07:00

In my town this Old South Restaurant, opened in 1947, is still serving up food, vintage American modular diner style, 24 hours a day, seven days a week. It is an icon and is listed on the historic register.

The proclamation reads: "The diner quickly became an oasis for hungry and wary travelers, providing food and a place to relax." This is still true.

In your part of the world, you might have all night restuarants. But here in the rural South, even situated on a major interstate, besides the gas station and the local Super Center, the Old South is a haven for folks wanting - and needing - nutritious food, a clean restroom and friendly conversation.

Recently, my family went for what the British call a Bean Feast. We ordered a slice of every pie they made, and we had a taste testing. That included pecan pie, apple crumb, lemon icebox, coconut cream, chocolate, possum and chocolate cream. Mmmm!!! I can taste it now.

They say their best selling pies are the possum and lemon, but you might just have to go down there and try it yourself.

Church Women Backbone of Churches

2009-08-21T06:37:00.000-07:00

Doesn't it seem women are the backbone of the churches? I've always noticed that growing up in the South anyway. This is a member of the Presbyterian church from the neighboring small town who was manning the ticket table at the annual Bean Luncheon where she was taking advantage of the influx of guest to tout the women's new cookbook, River of Life.

The photo behind the woman is actually the cover of the book and shows the women of the church picking cotton at a member's farm in 1912 to raise money to rebuild their church which was "destroyed by the Federals during the War between the States."

A smaller church had been rebuilt in 1872, but the congregation had outgrown it, and the idea grew, fueled by several hundreds of dollars granted by the U.S. government as restitution for the original structure, of building a larger church home.

The First Presbyterian Church in Dardanelle was built in 1914 largely by the extraordinary measures taken by the women of the congregation who willed it into existence with bake sales and picking cotton for a prominent member. They devised a song they would sing during those hard times when they worked together out in the fields:

By sewing, milking or churning

We are making the money we are earning

But let us be thankful we are permitted to live

To make the money we are to give

Our duty we should not shirk for with this

Wea re to build a brand new church.

Hams Volunteer to Face Danger

2009-08-16T20:59:00.000-07:00

These are the Radio Amateur Civil Emergency Service members in my little town. We have quite an active group. These are the folks who volunteer to maintain training throughout the year, so that when disaster strikes our community communication can still be maintained. Yep, these are the Ham operators - hams for short.

I recently had the pleasure of meeting with these guys, mostly retired engineers although one is retired from National Public Radio in New York City.

Listening to their schedule of field days and training sessions was a humbling experience for me. I live in an area which is known for its tornado activity, and it's reassuring to know these guys are in my back pocket looking out for the many pitfalls which might render an emergency a true disaster.

The group (Did I mention all are volunteers?) regularly trains with the local hospital and emergency personnel in disaster drills both on local and statewide levels. They keep their eyes on potential inconsistencies in the infrastructures supporting the communication framework.

With the fourth anniversary of 9-11 just around the corner, it's a good time to tip our hats to these brave and generous citizens who work to keep us safe.

Retired Pharmacist Turns to Farming

2009-08-02T19:42:00.000-07:00

This is my good friend Charles Oates of Pottsville, Arkansas. He is retired from his post as small town pharmacist of more than fifty years and now enjoys firing up the tractor and bush-hogging and tending to his horses, cattle and chickens.

Charles has seen a lot of changes in the pharmaceutical profession and counts the computer as making the most significant impact. Charles specialized in compounding individual prescriptions for his customers and marvels at the world of information just a click away because of the computer.

His daughter recalled that the drugstore was never closed except to observe an hour for lunch on Thanksgiving Day and Christmas Day and half a day to honor his founding partner on the day of his funeral.

Charles has been married to the same girl during his whole career. Her name is Jean, and he still calls her "sweetheart."

Thanks goodness for the men and women, who because of hard work and pride, have added to our sense of community.

Coffe Pot's Always On

2009-07-26T18:51:00.000-07:00

Have seen these guys for years in the morning hours at our Main St. Hardee's restaurant. There are roughly 30 that get together as they can, most of them meeting every morning just to chew the fat. Many of them have been coming for over 20 years.

Folks, that commitment.

They say they talk some politics, dish on women, and check on each other when they've gone missing.

They get a little rowdy says a 10 year old boy who accompanies his grandfather during the summer. Bet they do. One old timer told me that sometimes there's a Democrat and a Republican sitting at the same table - and they're brothers!

May all our days start by reconnecting with our brothers and sisters, so that when we've gone a'missing, someone will come looking for us.

Music Helps Beat the Summer Heat

2009-07-20T19:36:00.000-07:00

I love the local flavor of living in Arkansas. Entertaining at the Rivermarket farmers market one early Saturday morning is a local banjo player, part of a bluegrass group http://www.poseyhill.com/ .

That's just about the happiest sound - the banjo - helps take the heat out of a sizzling summer day. Here's hoping you'll be near a cool fan, a melodious toe-tapping tune and a tall glass of sweet tea today.

For the Love of Music - and Life

2008-09-30T09:09:00.000-07:00

These folks above make up what is called they Town & Country band. They play at our town's Sr. Activity Center every Friday. Patrons love to tap their toes to the old fashioned blues, hillbilly and gospel music and plenty of folks get up and dance. These musicians are all senior citizens themselves with the guy on the far left (fiddle) topping the charts at 94 and the guy with his leg stretched out is 86. Isn't it great?

Honor is Alive

2008-09-22T21:52:00.000-07:00

Friday, September 13th was POW/MIA Day. I've told you before how patriotic smaller communities seem to be. Well, in a neighboring town, the VFW started a project last year. It's called the Veterans' Walk of Flags.

Families or individuals pay $100 for a flag to be included in their display which flies some 287 flags seven times a year. The one time fee pays for the purchase of the flag, along with an engraved label and care for perpetuity.

The display is tastefully executed on the grounds of the local hospital, and black tape is bound around the flag pole to indicate soldiers who are deceased.

The project is requested to march in local parades. Above is a family portrait. These folks gather from surrounding towns every exhibit day to pay honor to the gentleman with the sunglasses who served in the army infantry during WWII and to pay respects to his fellow soldiers who never returned.

Remember and honor your loved ones. Veteran's Day is coming up. Make it a point to support the local veterans. For more information, call #501-354-0869.

It's That Time of Year

2008-09-18T17:40:00.000-07:00

It's that time of year here in Arkansas. As soon as the slightest cool air blows from the north, a certain portion of the population heads out to stalk wild things in the woods and lakes.

These friends smoke 150 pounds of deer meat every summer to give as gifts. Oh man, it's good!

They gave me this Deer Chili recipe- Enjoy!

Deer Chili

2lbs deer hamburger

1 onion

1 bell pepper 2 - 3 cloves garlic

1 can light red dikney beans

1 can tomatoes

1 can tomato sauce

1 - 2 jalapenos

1 -2 cans water or beer

3 - 4 tsp chili powder

salt & pepper

1 pkg chili seasoning mix

Brow deer, onion, garlic & pepper together.

Add reamining ingredients and simmer 30 minutes.

Pray Tell

2008-09-10T21:35:00.000-07:00

"Pray tell." I love that expression. I heard it a few days ago as in, "Pray tell, another hurricane isn't coming our way."

Well, at the time I couldn't tell the person that because, in fact, we thought Hurricane Ike was sending storms our way, but we were pleasantly surprised.

Although some folks did lose electricity in our parts for the weekend, we didn't have a lot of damage or flooding here though I know in other parts of the state they did. We thought it would be a lot worse.

We just got over snapped electrical poles from Gustav (see photo outside by front door), so everyone was much relieved

So, even though the weather didn't go quite as the weathermen were telling us, it was reason enough for everyone to pray...

Bless their souls

2008-09-04T19:27:00.001-07:00

We were hit by Hurricane Gustav's storms where we live in Arkansas ( between Okahoma and Little Rock) with power knocked out for two nights and a deluge of rain for three days. Half of our work crews had gone to Louisiana to help down there, and so we had workers coming in from Kansas and Oklahoma. All through the darkness their big trucks traveled from one transformer to the next. We are grateful to everyone who helped us out.

Boys Just Want to Have Fun

2008-08-29T20:10:00.000-07:00

Sometimes there isn't a lot to do for kids living in small towns. We all know kids with nothing to do can get in a lot of trouble. Kudos to our town for having the foresight to build a skateboard park ... it's going to be well worth the investment.

Teach Your Children Well

2008-08-24T18:17:00.000-07:00

I never understood why some folks don't value their stories - where they came from - who their ancestors were. I think it's fascinating to know about past generations - not just your own childhood - that is so limiting!

I love it when my mother tells my daughter that she has the same shape head that her great-great grandmother had (as she strokes the back of her head and neck). Then, she tells a story, of course, of how her grandmother used to wear her hair, etc...

We have a lot of Native Americans around here and this girl in the photo was caught off-guard during a pow wow recently. She is learning the ways of her ancestors even if she does live in a brick home and ride the school bus to school. Equal energy is spent learning the old ways.

May you share that connectiveness today with those whom you love... and drink a glass of sweet tea for me!

Favorite Leisure Activities

2008-08-21T20:05:00.000-07:00

Around this part of the country, paddling is a sacred tradition. Children are initiated at a very young age, ususally squished between the ice cooler and the tackle box. And nobody is too old to enjoy the soft rhythm of the streams and rivers, and lunch is always some Ritz crackers and a chunk of cheese with some summer sausage or vienna sausages (pronounce VEEena) with Saltines, and don't forget the GORP - or trail mix for you other folks out there!!!

Most people go for the day floats while there are the hard core folks who spend several days or more camping along the shale creeks and limestone bluffs.

Here are a couple of seniors who have won gold in the masters division at the nationals. What makes us so proud is that they mentor kids to follow in their footsteps and have done so for years.

They learned paddling together as youngsters and never gave up on the sport. They have sentimental bits and pieces of broken paddles and ancient boats. Their legacy, though, is living through the generations of kids who call them "Coach".

Here's hoping you have the opportunity to teach some young person a talent or skill which will serve to enhance their life. Be not surprised that you receive the greater blessing. I'm sure you have a touchstone yourself, someone who made a difference in your life. Why don't you take time today to thank them....and drink a glass of sweet tea for me!

Talk to Your Children - Tell Your Stories

2008-08-19T05:55:00.000-07:00

One of my main regrets is that I never recorded my grandfather telling his stories. Just to have captured his slow southern drawl, and to be able to replay that would have meant so much to me.

His name was Alvin Fowler and he was one of six boys in his eastern Tennessee family of loggers. One day, he just laid down his ax and hopped on the train as it curled through the mountains. He ended up on a different mountain range altogether in Arkansas, and in like manner, his other siblings dispersed to the cattle lands of western Texas and the urban lands of opportunity in Chicago and New Orleans.

His Scotch practicalities and staunch independence runs through my blood along with my mother's Spanish passions and energetic optimism.

Just one of my many stories, but what I wouldn't give to hear his voice again. Check out this storytelling blog and tell your children, no matter how old they are, one of your stories today...

for the thrill of listening to storytellers http://thestorytellersblog.blogspot.com/
for info re: storytelling http://storyteller.blogpsot.com/

The Fish are Biting

2008-08-16T16:11:00.000-07:00

The weather has cooled off a bit what with some rain over the last few days. I was never one for fishing much (unless I could take a good book and a big pillow, but folks around here have been fishing away at the local watering holes. Caught this gentleman fixin' to take his boat out on a small mountain lake. He looked happy to be going.

Here's hoping that, wherever you are, and wherever you plop in your fishing line, you find the fish are biting!

Southern Recycling

2008-08-14T09:34:00.000-07:00

In our little town, the realities of recycling are slow in materializing. Although we have a drop off service, the nearest facility is 25 miles away, and curbside service hasn't knocked on our door yet- but, heh, a town only 20 miles from here still doesn't have a sewer system...

Yep, change comes slowly around here, and somtimes that's a good thing.

Ran across this old VW standing in as a planter, and it brought back so many youthful memories.

Good Day, Sunshine!

Dancing Queen

2008-08-11T08:55:00.000-07:00

Whoohoo! Look at this marvelous remnant hanging under the clearance tent! Just think of the bridesmaid or prom story that goes with this hot pink confection! Couldn't resist showing a little slice of the goodies I took a gander at during the Bargains Galore on 64. I saw cow skulls and old timey washing ringers (machines)- and even an outhouse! Now, who in the world??? Well, guess that's our version of the British red telephone booth. Shop in Arkansas and get your very own outhouse! We have one of those double decker versions up Highway 7. I posted a picture of it a while back.

Take a look at your own treasures.....and drink a glass of sweet tea for me!

Bargains Galore on U.S. 64

2008-08-07T20:43:00.000-07:00

We have an annual event here known as Bargains Galore on 64. It is advertised as 160 miles of yard sales, flea markets and antiques & collectibles spanning much of the state of Arkansas. Even if you're not a second hand kind of gal, there is something for everybody. I bought 8 new Pier One glasses still in the boxes for $12 and four Laura Ashley baby blankets for $5 apiece. Unfortunately, I don't have anybody to give them to... but that's another story.

Found these interesting folks shopping along the highway. Looked to me like he was describing his finds to someone over the phone. Buy! Buy! She flies in all the way from Phoenix, Arizona every year just to shop the sales. Gee, didn't know Arizona was so lacking... :)

Hope you find cheap ways to keep youself entertained during these hot days...
and drink a glass of sweet tea for me!

Freedom (Nip it in the Bud)

2008-08-05T11:19:00.000-07:00

Those who remember how it was when their children were home can vividly recall the first day of summer. Yippee!!! We were all thrilled.

I have three teenagers remaining at home and the oldest of those has just begun to drive. He has assumed an attitude that must come from having that independence, for there is no other reason. We are fortunate we live in a small town, so that a trip to the high school is less than three miles, and the grocery store is 1 mile away. Those are pretty much the parameters of his universe, but what joy!

I remember when I was out of town some years back, and a friend called me on my cell phone to ask me who my elder son (he is twenty three now) knew on Jenkins Lane because he was driving that road at that moment. I looked at the clock - it was 11 p.m. on a school night, and I didn't know anybody on Jenkins Road.

I called my son and later my husband. To say my son was shocked is an understatement. He was incredulous! "How did you know?"

To this day, I thank that friend of mine every time I see her. It takes a village to raise these kids, and here, in the Ozarks and River Valley, folks still keep an eye on each other's chittlin's...

Here's hoping you find that same sense of neighborhood.

Nik & Sam

2008-07-31T11:30:00.001-07:00

Heat Wave - Time to Jump, Jive and Boogie!

2008-07-30T17:17:00.000-07:00

We are sweltering under the hot and humid July sun here in Arkansas. Too hot to swim in the pool unless you drive up Mt. Nebo where the air is cooler and the water is actually cold!!!

It's a great time, however, to catch up on your southern literature. I just finished Erskine Caldwell's classic Tobacco Road which is a fast and easy read. Reminds me of something my elderly father-in-law used to say, "Poor is as poor does." Hmmm... Read the book!

Other totally awesome selections are Sue Monk Kidd's The Mermaid Chair and The Secret Life of Bees and John Grisham's The Painted House.

Grisham's tale is set in the Arkansas delta, that part of the land which hugs the Mississippi River and is only across the bridge from Memphis. The delta is the birthplace of the blues, Elvis and Johnny Cash.

Check on this link for some down home sounds, and drink a glass of sweet tea for me...

http://feeds.revver.com/2.0/mrss/flash/collection/227789?affiliate=hairylarry

Capture Arkansas Photography Contest

2008-07-27T13:44:00.000-07:00

http://www.capturearkansas.com/search/photos/jeannie+stone

Our state newspaper is hosting an online photography contest inviting everyone to submit their best photographs depicting life in Arkansas. Anyone can sign up to submit photos or to cast votes. The top runners in each of the designated "chapters" will be featured in a coffetable book, and at least one photo from each participating photographer will be included in a DVD. So, even if you haven't any ties to Arkansas, go and view what we are all about. But, be prepared! You will see a double decker outhouse, plenty of tractors, and lots of shots of our beautiful woods, lakes, deltas and mountains.

May your day be filled with the wonders of nature wherever you are!

The Homecoming

2008-07-24T13:05:00.000-07:00

Summertime is the time for the annual homecomings around here. Those of you from the south know what I mean. This isn't even remotely related to cheerleaders and football. This is that sacred time of year when families, young and old, gather in a designated pavilion, park, community center or cemetery to decorate the graves of family members.

It is a time-honored ritual commemorating the lives of those loved ones who went on before us. The main draw, after the massive potluck and the visiting, is decorating the graves.

Our homecoming is always scheduled for the 4th of July, so that we decorate the graves in the Duckett Cemetery with little flags and red, white and blue ribbon-tied floral sprays.

We have a couple of aunts who scrub the headstones to erase the effects of crusty bird poo. Their children accompany them, training for the time when they will bear the sole responsibility of keeping the concrete slabs clean.

As the cleansing and beautifying conclude, a group picture is taken underneath the wrought iron arch bearing the name of the little cemetery.

May you be welcomed home this summer by your loved ones!

My Gift To You

2008-07-18T23:19:00.000-07:00

Here is a recipe that sounds an awful lot like my great aunt's (we called her "LaLa"). If anybody makes a request, I will include my World Famous Baked Beans... Enjoy!

Twins are a Little Bit Country

2008-07-18T21:00:00.000-07:00

We have a set of teenage twins in the next town over from me. They are the cutest things, and they are on their way to stardom because of their musical talents and charisma. Their stage name is Nik & Sam, so be looking for them. We do love our fiddlers, musicians of all kinds, and our cloggers here.

Sometime, ya'll stop in on your way across the country!

Check out blog dated 7/31/08 to listen to the girls!

Wiggle Your toes

2008-07-17T23:16:00.000-07:00

Our Buttons Are Poppin'

2008-07-17T19:53:00.000-07:00

Our very own former governor Mike Huckabee is the guest host of the Paul Harvey radio show the week beginning July 15th. I suggest you check him out. He is a natural performer. We always knew that in Arkansas! Course there is that preacher side of him! http://www.paulharvey.com/.

Huckabee is a good ole' boy, so we are proud for him. He did a lot for education in our state and I have a picture of my daughter (who was born deaf) standing next to him as he signed the Universal Hearing Screening bill into law dictating that all hospitals birthing 50 babies or more a year provide a hearing screening.

My daughter was only three years old, and it was a banner day. Today, she is almost fourteen, has a cochlear implant, teaches dance to pre-schoolers and sings in her school choir.

For more reading on her, check out my other blog... http://childrenofalessergod.blogspot.com/.

WWII Vet

2008-07-17T08:35:00.000-07:00

Went to a fourth of July event in town and found Benny volunteering at the watermelon stand. I bet you have folks like him where you live. He is a WWII vet, so that must put him at, what, 90 year old?

He is always ready to step up and help in whatever little way anyone needs.When they call it the greatest generation, I agree. Although, it is the way, in these small mountian hamlets and river valley towns to lend a hand, the most generous folks seem to be Benny's generation.

Hope you have a bounty of watermelon wherever you be!

"Just plant a watermelon on my grave, let the juice sip through..."

Sharing the Bounty

2008-07-16T14:25:00.000-07:00

If you don't have a neighbor like mine, I'm sorry. Faye is the sweetest lady. By sweet, I mean she always brings me more than she borrows :) She and her husband, Braxton, are retired, and they keep a pretty impressive garden.

She has brought over tomatoes twice, God bless her. Now, she is in zucchini heaven and has brought over enough to fill my car! Those of you who have grown zucchini know what I'm talkin' about.

For those of you who have never been so close to the earth, you are missing out. For those of you who are missplaced, can you smell the zucchini bread baking in my oven? Will be making zucchini and chocolate chip cookies next. Hey, they're good!

We get pretty creative with recipes from our abundance but, for those of you who don't know, shredded zucchini keeps well in the freezer!

Eat up!

2008-07-15T19:42:00.000-07:00

Sweet Tea with Splenda

2008-07-15T09:03:00.000-07:00

Oh my gosh, I can't believe I am writing this, but I actually drank sweet tea with Splenda and lived to tell about it! I was visiting my lovely friend, and her husband offered me a glass. I asked if it was sweet out of habit, not dreaming it might actually be unsweet tea (I mean, what's the point of that?!).

"Oh no, we put sweetner in it."

Now, I know because of health reasons a lot of people practice this, but it's still a new concept to me as i would just opt for water when I was stuck with making a choice between diet drinks alone.

Ya'll, it wasn't half bad. In fact, I don't know if I would have known it wasn't sugar had they not told me about it.

Think I'll go half sugar and half Splenda for awhile and see if I can thrive before chucking the cannister of sugar altogther.

Come on over for a glass or two! I'll get mint from the garden...

"Excuse Me, Darlin'"

2008-07-14T15:35:00.000-07:00

Just overheard, when I was eating at a local restaurant, "Excuse me, darlin'." Naturally, I looked up to see who that nice gentleman could be. Isn't that something when having good manners draws attention like that!

That's certainly something I like living in a small town in the south. We do teach out children to say, "ma'am" and "sir". Now, I know some folks might take offense at the "darling" or "sweetheart" reference, but it always makes me smile when somebody addresses me that way. Maybe, we need to loosen up. It's not like they are addressing you as "babe".

Here's hoping you have a pleasant day, sweetheart!

Thankful for Slower Pace

2008-07-13T22:50:00.000-07:00

so many times over the years friends (and far flung family) have teased me for taking life so slow. I was raised only an hour away from here, but it was in the city. I tell them I choose to be here, to walk slow, to talk slow, to live with purpose. I am the same multi-tasker so typical to our times, but my element catches up with me, and I don't stay in hyperdrive for long. It is an effort. I am continually extricating myself from commitments which rob me of my time. Noble causes undo me, but I am my own worthy cause too. Why don't you sit a spell and drink some sweet tea, and tell me about your troubles.... you'll be glad you did!