Category: Memories

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Wayland Holyfield

When I was a child in Mrs. Swofford’s 4th grade classroom, we learned about Arkansas.  I absolutely loved studying and learning about my state.  We explored the history of Arkansas, the development of the state, and also worked to memorize the symbols that identify it. 

For example:

state flower – apple blossom

state bird – mockingbird

state gem – diamond

state grain – rice

state musical instrument – fiddle

state rock – bauxite 

The state song at the time, I believe, was a song called Arkansas – written in 1916 by Eva Ware Barnett.  In 1987, however, this song was elevated to “state anthem” and a new official state song was adopted.

“Arkansas, You Run Deep in Me” was written by Wayland Holyfield.  I loved it the very first time I heard it – and in fact, it still touches my heart every single time it plays.  If I put together a bulleted list of things about Arkansas to be celebrated,  they would pretty much all be included in this song and video.

I can remember when AETN, the Arkansas PBS station, would sign off every evening at midnight with a video rendition of this song – and if I were awake I would usually turn over the channel to watch it.  

The song’s composer, Wayland Holyfield,  was born in Conway County Arkansas, in 1942.  In 1972, he left Arkansas and moved to Nashville – with a dream of becoming a songwriter.  Success didn’t take too long for Mr. Holyfield – his first song was recorded in 1973.  Throughout his career, his songs were recorded by artists John Anderson, Brooks & Dunn, Mickey Gilley, Barbara Mandrell, Charly McClain, Anne Murray, The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band, The Oak Ridge Boys, Reba McEntire, Charley Pride, Statler Brothers, George Strait, Mel Tillis, Ernest Tubb, Conway Twitty, Tammy Wynette, and many, many, many more.  

A member of the Nashville Songwriters Hall of Fame, he impressively wrote (and co-wrote) many songs – with over 40 hits that reached the top ten – 14 of which went to #1. Some of his best-known songs are the beautiful “Could I Have This Dance” (Anne Murray), “Some Broken Hearts Never Mend” (Don Williams), “Til The Rivers All Run Dry” (Don Williams), “You’re the Best Break This Old Heart Ever Had” (Ed Bruce), “Only Here For a Little While” (Billy Dean), and “Nobody Likes Sad Songs” (Ronnie Milsap).

Mr. Holyfield passed away this week in Nashville, Tennessee at the age of 82

My favorite song that he wrote will always be his love song to my home state of Arkansas.

Thank you, Mr. Holyfield. 

Update/Addition
After publishing this blog, I found out that in 2021 Mr. Holyfield generously donated the rights to “Arkansas, You Run Deep in Me” to the Arkansas Community Foundation, a nonprofit organization based in Little Rock that awards grants for charitable programs around the state. Having known a few songwriters in my day, I know how valuable song rights can be – both personally and financially. What a generous gift! On the Arkansas Community Foundation website, Mr. Holyfield is quoted saying “I want my song to continue to inspire Arkansans for years to come. Gifting the rights to Arkansas Community Foundation ensures the songs legacy, and will hopefully inspire Arkansans to appreciate our state, its generosity and the support of essential nonprofits,” said Holyfield. “I’m so pleased the Community Foundation has found a way to use my words and music in their efforts.”

The Community Foundation produced a video using the song, and it is spectacular. Click below to see (first) the original video to the song. Then, please take the time to watch the second (updated) version produced by the Community Foundation. They are worth your time.

Arkansas You Run Deep In Me

Arkansas You Run Deep in Me
by Wayland Holyfield

October morning in the Ozark Mountains,
Hills ablazing like that sun in the sky.
I fell in love there and the fire’s still burning
A flame that will never die.

Chorus

Oh, I may wander, but when I do
I will never be far from you.
You’re in my blood and I know you’ll always be.
Arkansas, you run deep in me.
Moonlight dancing on a delta levee,
To a band of frogs and whippoorwill
I lost my heart there one July evening
And it’s still there, I can tell.

Repeat Chorus

Magnolia blooming, Mama smiling,
Mallards sailing on a December wind.
God bless the memories I keep recalling
Like an old familiar friend.

Repeat Chorus

And there’s a river rambling through the fields and valleys,
Smooth and steady as she makes her way south,
A lot like the people whose name she carries.
She goes strong and she goes proud.

Repeat Chorus

Adopted by the 1987 General Assembly as an Official State Song.

You can download a free MP3 file of the song from the state website by clicking here.

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Broken Bits

My Pap-pa was born in the little community of Rex, Arkansas…..a place I had never heard of until after his passing. We never really talked about where he was born…in fact, throughout his life he wasn’t even completely certain what year he was born…..but that’s another pretty good story for another time! 🙂

My Mother, always the explorer, decided that we needed to find out more about her daddy’s birthplace….so on a warm summer day about 24 years ago, we did just that.

After a little research, Mother and I drove up a dirt road in Van Buren County to the small mountain community of Rex. I was feeling doubtful that we would be able to locate any information about Pap-pa’s birthplace since over 80 years had passed….but goodness! I should have known better. First, I feel very confident that Mother had already prayed for success that day….and the Lord listens. Second, when Mother was determined she was determined…and so we drove along until we passed a house with some folks out in the yard. Pulling over – Mother got out, introduced herself, and talked with them a bit. The gentleman gave her directions to an older couple’s home just down the road a ways who had lived in the area all their lives, saying they would possibly have the answers Mother was looking for……

So……onward we went…pulling up in the couple’s driveway just after lunchtime… They were such sweet people (somewhere in their 90’s), and listened carefully as Mother explained why we were there. They were eager and happy to help in any way they could. I’m embarrassed to admit that I don’t remember their names. I so wish I did. For the purpose of this story, I will call them Mr. and Mrs. Smith.

Mr. Smith assured us he knew exactly where my great-grandparents’ house once stood – the house where my Pap-pa was born. He remembered it well from his childhood. In fact, he told us, he could also take us to the homeplace of my great-great grandparents as well. Mother and I were grateful – and excited to see both places.

I thought this meant we would drive, but that was definitely not the case…. Starting out by crawling under a barbed wire fence, we walked quite a ways through several cow pastures, crawling under a few more fences before we came to an obvious rock foundation of an old home…..sitting quietly and alone – far removed from roads or towns. A few burned boards, almost completely rotted away, were all that was left of the structure itself. Mr. Smith assured us that this was the place, telling us that Ike and Sarah (I was surprised and impressed that he knew and remembered the names of my great-grandparents) had built the home and lived there when they started their family. However, after their first son, Woodrow and later their second, my Pap-pa (Clifford) were born, the house burned, causing them to move down off the mountain never to return. The abandoned remains of the house had been left to the elements and the animals for over 8 decades.

As I walked around inside the old foundation of the little house, I found some small broken bits of china and stoneware – remnants of dishes and bowls belonging to a great grandmother I do not remember. I gathered as many as I could find and put them in my pocket, taking them back through the pastures with me – this time traveling a longer, different route to visit the site of my great-great grandparents’ home place as well. It was so interesting and such fun.

When we finally returned to Mother’s van, I wrapped the little pieces up in an old, crumpled paper towel Mother had in the car…..later placing the little bundle in a bottom dresser drawer when I got home….and that’s where they stayed for another 2+ decades.

broken bits

One autumn a few years ago, while attending a Laura Ingalls Wilder celebration dinner in Mansfield, MO – a benefit auction item caught my attention. One of Mrs. Wilder’s plates had shattered, and the museum staff had taken the broken pieces to a jeweler in Springfield, MO who had turned them into beautiful jewelry pieces. I quickly thought of the broken pieces of my great-grandmother’s dishes I had saved all these years….and decided to see what could be done with them.

The next spring, on my Mother’s 78th birthday, I took a day off from work to spend it with her. We went out to eat, shopping, and sightseeing…..and to Gerzens’ Jewelry in Springfield, Missouri. John Gerzen, the jeweler, and Mother worked together to pick the pieces she liked and then tried different patterns for putting them together. They narrowed the possible choices down to 2 or 3….and we left to give her time to think about it.

Unfortunately, the necklace was soon forgotten. Mother began her fight with cancer and other plans drifted to the background…

The broken bits, still in that same ancient paper towel, went back to the dresser drawer….until this year. Several weeks ago, I took them back to Gerzen’s Jewelry in Springfield, MO and finally the now over 100 year old pieces were made into a necklace….

I was so excited when I got the call that the necklace was finished. I couldn’t wait to see the finished piece…..and I was so pleased with Mr. Gerzen’s work. To me, it’s so unique and so pretty.

The best part though, is that when I wear it (as I did today), I think of my Mother….and my Pap-pa, and my great-grandmother Sarah….

I am so very happy to have it.

https://www.gerzensjewelry.com/

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Glimpses of Excellence – A Hero With a Servant’s Heart

In January of this year, I was sound asleep at home one night when I received word that my precious Mother had broken her leg and was being transported by ambulance to a local hospital. Having just recovered from COVID, I was a little wobbly as I hurriedly threw on some clothes and rushed to my car to make the hour-long drive to Mother. When I got to the emergency room, they had the leg stabilized and her pain controlled….but explained that Mother would need specialty surgery as soon as possible. The doctor said she would be transported to a bigger facility in Little Rock first thing the next morning. Mother and I settled in for the night – grateful (during heavy days of COVID) that we could be together as we waited.

The next morning when the EMT’s came to pick Mother up for transport, I told them I would be following all the way. I wasn’t exactly certain where we were going – so I knew I wanted to keep that ambulance in my sight on the drive….and I wanted Mother to know I would be close at hand. I planned on diligently following right behind. They loaded Mother into the ambulance, and I told her I would see her in Little Rock and that I would be praying the trip went well.

It’s funny how sometimes, even as an adult, we can feel so small, and lonely, and scared – like a little girl wishing desperately for someone to reach out and help us – but knowing we have to go on, to face whatever situation has presented itself, relying on our Lord to see us through.

That’s definitely how I felt as the ambulance carrying my Mother pulled out onto highway 62 just after 9:00 that Wednesday morning with me following. Less than one mile into the trip, the “low tire” warning light came on – indicating that my right rear tire was low. This immediately added stress to an already difficult morning – because I (of course) didn’t have time to stop and find someone to help me with the tire – I wanted to stay with that ambulance…..but I also knew I didn’t need to drive on a tire going flat! I didn’t know what to do or who to call, so I pondered it over and said a quick prayer….

As our tiny convoy headed through Alpena, Arkansas, I called Ozark Auto Body in Harrison about 15 minutes away. I quickly explained the situation and how I didn’t want to lose the ambulance, asking if they possibly had a pump to air up my tires. They assured me they would “be ready and watching for me”. I felt immediate relief, because I know the team of folks at Ozark Auto Body. They’re top notch – always incredibly busy (because they’re good!) and always providing reliable, honest service for their customers.

I was still concerned, however….. You see, Ozark Auto Body is located on the OLD highway that travels through downtown Harrison. The ambulance, I knew, would turn left and take the more direct route on the bypass – and I didn’t want to lose them. I had no choice of course – so I sped up a bit and passed the ambulance, trying to gain a little ground. I had gotten just a little bit ahead when I came to the intersection of Highway 65 and old Business 65. I stayed straight onto the old highway and in less than a minute I had my blinker on to turn right into Ozark Auto Body’s crowded lot.

Let me stop here a minute to say that I have never seen Ozark Auto Body on a weekday when it wasn’t busy – and this day was no exception. In fact, it’s often difficult to even find a parking place. On this morning however, as I flipped on my turn signal (before I had even turned off the highway), I saw Donnie running out of the building with an air tank in his hand….waving me to a place easy to pull in and easy to get back out on the road. Busy as they were, they truly had been watching for me. I had barely stopped when he started airing up that back right tire. While he was working with it, someone else was checking my other tires – and literally in just a few moments all four tires were aired up and safely ready to go – they quickly waved me on as I tried to thank them. I hurriedly pulled back onto the road and was on my way. It felt like a pit stop at Daytona – quick, efficient, and incredibly impressive.

I headed on, turned left to cut back over to the bypass, and pulled out literally right behind the ambulance as if it had all been perfectly planned. Isn’t God good?

I will forever be grateful to Donnie and the entire team at Ozark Auto Body. They have helped me out many times through the years, but none will ever stand out as much as that day. I teared up when I saw him waving me in that morning – pausing his very busy work day to have the air tank ready to go, to watch for me to arrive, and be ready to provide help. That lost little girl feeling went away as I was reminded that there are kind, wonderful people willing to give freely of their time just to help others.

That is an everyday hero – a true example of a glimpse of excellence.

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Restoration

Gravestones

I grew up going to cemetery “Decoration Days” with my parents to clean and decorate the graves of loved ones each spring. It is a time to pause and remember – to pay honor to family members we have lost.

Most of my grandparents, great grandparents, and even great-great grandparents are buried within 35 miles of where I was born. I’ve always thought that was kinda cool. In one cemetery, so many of my relatives are buried there that I have lost count. Many of the gravestones are old and have been unreadable for many, many years. When I was a child, I would trace my fingers in the indentions in the stones trying to decipher the names and the dates.

During the past few years, I have watched videos of individuals who safely cleaned gravestones. They peaked my interest – and I wanted to give it a try. First and foremost, I wanted to be sure that I knew what I was doing so that I wouldn’t cause damage. After all, some of these tombstones are over 100 years old!

One year ago this month, I contacted a Facebook friend, Terry Sanders, who had recently posted about this process and he generously provided great information and advice. I purchased my supplies and headed out to get to work.

The gravestones I chose had many decades of buildup, so I knew that multiple trips would probably be required – and I was correct. I was happy to find that overall it is a pretty simple process – but what an absolutely amazing difference it made! I plan to go back next spring and expect to see even greater improvements then, but I am so excited to show you all the results!

Before #1
gravestone
After #1
gravestone
Before #2
gravestone
After #2
gravestone
Before #3
gravestone
After #3
gravestone
Before #4
gravestone
After #4
gravestone
Before #5
gravestone
After $6

I really enjoyed this project! It was a way to honor past generations of my family, and it restored these beautiful monuments much closer to their original state. If you’re interested in the process and products I used, keep reading!

Products and Supplies Needed:  gloves, mask, soft toothbrush, and Wet and Forget (comes in several options – the concentrate can be cheaper, but the “Wet and Forget Outdoor Ready to Use comes premixed with its own sprayer.  Both are good choices based on your preference!)

Process

  1. Choose a day that’s cool (below 80 degrees F is best), cloudy, or overcast to slow product evaporation.
  2. Avoid using on windy days to assure the best surface coverage.
  3. Wipe the surface gently but thoroughly with a dry, soft cloth to remove any dust or debris.  For best results, surfaces should be clean and completely dry.
  4. Wearing gloves, long sleeves, goggles or safety glasses, and a mask (to avoid skin or lung contact with chemicals), spray to saturate the surface thoroughly.
  5. That’s it!  No rinsing needed.  Leave it and let it work.
  6. I went back in (approximately) six weeks and applied more product.  Then, I checked back a couple of months later and used a SOFT toothbrush to gently remove some remaining algae.  Be very careful – the stones can be easily scratched.

For additional information, check out the Wet and Forget website. 

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The Blessings of a Godly Mother

I’ve heard the story of my birth for as long as I can remember…not that it was all that remarkable or out of the ordinary…it was just that my Mother liked telling the story and I loved hearing it. I was expected to make my appearance toward the end of April, 1967. On the afternoon of Friday March 31st, Mother drove to town for a checkup at the doctor’s office, a hair appointment at the beauty shop, and a few other errands. However, when Dr. Magie examined her, he said she needed to head on over to the hospital immediately because she was about to have her baby. Mother laughed, thinking he was joking. After all, I wasn’t expected for 3 more weeks – she had felt no labor pains – he was scheduled to go out of town for a short hunting trip (planned so he could be back for my birth), and she was headed to the beauty shop! She truly believed he was kidding with her. In fact, she told him she had a hair appointment and asked if it would be all right if she got her hair fixed and then head to the hospital. He assured her she needed to go straight there – so she called Daddy and Mam-ma to come join her, then settled in nervously and excitedly to wait. Dr. Magie was right – I was born just after 4:00 am the next morning, an April Fool’s baby who fooled her family by arriving a few weeks early.

As a little girl, I always smiled a big smile when Mother told me this story. I loved thinking I had played a clever trick on my family with my surprise arrival.

The hospital where I was born closed shortly after my birth when a new hospital was built across town. The beautiful old building sat up on a hill empty and abandoned for years. One day when I was around 8 years old, Mother drove me up that hill and around to the back of the deserted building. She said she wanted to show me something. We got out of the car and had walked only a few steps when Mother pointed up to the unique round balcony on the 3rd floor. “I walked out on that balcony the night before you were born and stood for the longest time praying over your life”, Mother said. “I just wanted you to know that – that I prayed earnestly for you before you were even here.”

Photo credit: Betty Patterson (Thank you, Betty.)

Even as a child, I was humbled by what she said – it seemed like such an important thing to me that day….and it still does. Every time I remember her words, I feel so honored, so blessed by her gift.

I just did the math – I have been on this earth a total of 20,290 days since my April 1 birth all those years ago – and I feel absolutely and 100% completely confident that my Mother has prayed for me on every single one of those days. What an amazing blessing!!!

So, my precious mother prayed for me before I was born and every day since then. I have never lived one single day on this earth without being covered by her prayers. Not one single day. What a difference, what an impact this has had on my life.

It made me thoughtful recently, thinking how I would miss those prayers someday when she is no longer with me…..

…but several weeks ago, Mother was talking to me and thanking me for helping her with some things. “I pray about your future”, she said, “and I’ve prayed that when you get older and perhaps need help, that there will be someone there to help you like you’ve helped me.”

She has prayed for my future! Those thousands of prayers have included specific, thoughtful petitions regarding challenges we all face in this life.

I firmly believe our wonderful, loving Heavenly Father hears our prayers – and I am so grateful that He does. I also couldn’t be more humbled or thankful for the prayers of a Godly mother, devotedly approaching the King of Kings on my behalf.

Thank you, Mother. I love you so very much. I am forever grateful.

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Happy 90th Birthday, Mel Tillis

Mel Tillis stories are far better told in person and not in written form – because Mel, despite his lifelong stutter, had an absolutely incredible understanding of the art of communication and he used it beautifully. His vocal inflections, his timing, his choice of words, his facial expressions and his body language made his stories simply priceless. Since I can’t tell you this story in person (Believe it or not, I can do a fairly good impression 🙂 ), I hope those of you who are familiar with Mel will be able “hear” him as you read.

Mel was one of the first Nashville celebrities to build his own theater in Branson. He was also one of the first to copy the practice established by local Branson shows of meeting and greeting the audience in an autograph line after each performance.

Always a gracious host, he cared about his fans and would pose for pictures, shake hands, and visit briefly with anyone who took the time to stand in the (always) long lines to meet him.

One night in August, 20 years ago, I went to see Mel’s show at his Branson theater, sitting in my favorite row (L) about halfway back in the crowd. After the show, I waved to Mel as I was leaving, not wanting to disturb the autograph line, but wanting to wish him a late greeting for his birthday that had passed just a few days before. (It was a big one!). He smiled and waved me over for a hug. As I got closer he grinned mischievously and said, “Heyyyyy, Lisa! Did you know I’m goin’ on 80 years old?” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw several people in the autograph line turn and stare in surprise at this news.

I rolled my eyes and said, “Mel, you’re 70!” I heard a few chuckles. He looked at me with a sincere face but a small hint of a grin and said, “I know that, Lisa….dat’s a-goin’ on 80!” Everyone started laughing. Even in the autograph line, he was working the crowd, delivering humor and bringing joy.

It takes enormous talent and determination to be a successful country music singer or song writer. Mel achieved both…….but even more impressively, he was a gifted, talented, intelligent, creative, and intuitive entertainer.

Today, on what would have been his 90th birthday, I’m thinking about so many stories and smiles. I am blessed to have known him.

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My Friends in Winterset

Winterset, Iowa is quite a special little place. I am blessed to have several friends there – so I was so saddened when the news last night reported that a devastating tornado hit the little town yesterday afternoon. Actually I guess “friends” is a vague term – none of these friends I mentioned would actually even know my name or remember me at all….

Perhaps I’d better back up and start again….

Winterset is a small town of just over 5,000 people, located south of Iowa’s capital city of Des Moines in rural Madison County. There are a lot of great things to see and do there, and I’ve visited Winterset on several occasions…..but I will tell more about that another time.

Today, I am thinking about my friends…

I met my friend Bob on my very first trip to Winterset several years ago. I stopped by the Chamber of Commerce to see if there were any brochures, maps, or information they might share about touring the area sites. The young lady behind the desk enthusiastically told me that the best way to be introduced to Winterset was through one of their city tours if we had the time (typically about 2 – 3 hours). I immediately asked if we could schedule a tour for that afternoon. She smiled, thought for a minute, and said she would check with Bob, one of their tour guides, to see if he was available. Fortunately he was, and that afternoon I had a personal tour of the area with Bob – learning so much about Winterset – it’s history, points of interest, the people, businesses, and the culture. Early in the tour, we drove past a nice brick home on the right that sat back off the highway a bit. Bob not only pointed out that it was the home where he and his wife lived, but also told us about the home in detail – very proud of the life they had created there together. He was charming, enthusiastic, informative, and fun. When I heard the tornado yesterday had gone south and east of town, I breathed a sigh of relief. Bob’s home is located north and west of the city center.

Another friend in Winterset is a sweet lady who works at the John Wayne Birthplace Museum. I have visited the museum on two or three occasions through the years, and she is always behind the counter selling tickets and souvenirs. She is originally from the Springfield, Missouri area where I lived for over ten years – and we always visit about places and people we have in common when I’m there. I don’t remember her name, but I do remember her smile and her kindness.

On the city square, there was a very nice little boutique that I visited a couple of years ago. The owner was very kind and we chatted comfortably while I shopped – talking about Winterset, Branson, MO, her future plans to open an AirBnB upstairs above her shop…..it was such a pleasant afternoon. I took her business card (which I unfortunately have since misplaced) and told her I would call to see if her AirBnB was available on my next trip to Winterset.

My last friend is definitely the most unique and perhaps the most special – because we have never met at all…. Let me explain. My Mother and I were traveling home from a trip to Minnesota on I-35 one day and veered off to have lunch at the Northside Cafe on the Winterset city square. After lunch, Mother sat down on a bench outside for a few minutes….and unknowingly left her cell phone lying there when she walked away. We were an hour or more down the road before we discovered it was gone – and had no idea where it could be. Mentally retracing our steps as we drove along, we thought perhaps it could have been left at our table in the Northside cafe or on that city sidewalk bench. Calling the Northside first, no phone was located. Remembering the Chamber of Commerce office was down the block a ways from where Mother had sat, I searched for the number and gave them a call. The lady who answered was very kind – listening while I explained our predicament, then telling me to hold on while she went down the street to search. After several minutes, she was back with Mother’s phone in her hand. She took down our address and promised to put the phone in the mail to us the next day. I told her that I would send her a check for her trouble, but she refused saying she was glad to be of help. She gave me her personal cell phone number in case I needed to contact her. The next day, I received a text from her letting me know the phone had been shipped.

Each of these friends made an impression on me. Their kindness, their enthusiasm, their personalities are memorable to me…I said a prayer for each of them and their families yesterday evening and again this morning…..because they touched my life. They are my friends. I have no idea of their political affiliations, their religious beliefs, or their backgrounds. I just know that they are my friends, their community is hurting, and therefore I hurt with them.

One of my colleagues posted a question on Facebook a few days ago – “When are we going to realize that we all belong to the same human race?” It’s a powerful and profound question, Beth – and I hope we figure that out soon.

Matthew 22:37-39 Jesus replied: “ ‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ 38 This is the first and greatest commandment. 39 And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’

John 13:35 By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.”

I Corinthians 16:14 Do everything in love.

I John 14:19 We love because He first loved us.

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Thank you, Mrs. Swofford

We often do not realize the long-lasting impact we have on others….

Each of us affect those around us – either positively or negatively – every day, many times without even realizing it.

When I was 9 years old, I was a 4th grader at Berryville (Arkansas) elementary school. My teacher that year was Mrs. Mary Ellen Swofford. The year before, when I was a 3rd grader, I had feared Mrs. Swofford, hoping and praying many times that I wouldn’t have her for a teacher. A trim, petite lady, she always wore neatly fitted dresses and matching heels that clicked briskly when she walked down the hall. You always knew when it was Mrs. Swofford coming – even before you saw her – by those clicking heels. She was a no-nonsense teacher, and had high expectations for students’ behavior, attitude, and efforts.

Entering 4th grade, my fears were realized when I saw that in fact I did have Mrs. Swofford as my teacher. Those fears quickly faded away as I got to know her however, and she remains to this day one of my absolute favorite teachers.

In late September, this lovely “changing of seasons” time of year we are in right now, Mrs. Swofford started our day by printing the word autumn on the chalkboard. She wrote slowly and carefully, building our anticipation as we students saw the care and simple artistry she put into every letter. She chose to use the old fashioned style on the letter “a”, a style still utilized in type print today but rarely seen anymore in written form. We had no idea why she was writing the word, but she definitely had our attention. The room was quiet as we waited in anticipation. When she finished, she turned to us and said, “Isn’t this a pretty word? I’ve always thought it was such a pretty word to see in print – and I think that fits so well because autumn is such a pretty time of year. Some people call it “fall”, but I’ve always preferred to use autumn because of the way the word looks when you write it and sounds when you say it. It’s just so much better, don’t you think?”

autumn

That was it. That’s all she said. We moved on – getting out our paper and pencils and beginning our school work for the day. Mrs Swofford left that carefully written word on the board for the remainder of the week, and I would look up at it throughout the day and my 9-year-old mind would think, “Wow – that really is a pretty word!”

It was a simple act – but it taught me several valuable lessons.

Our choices of words matter. Language (both spoken and written) is an art form.

Printing and handwriting can be artistically beautiful.

Celebrating beauty every day brings joy – whether it’s the changing of the seasons, the smile of a friend, or simply a beautiful word written on the chalkboard.

This year marks my 46th autumn since that day in Mrs. Swofford’s classroom – and every single year I still remember that simple word written on the chalkboard and the lesson she taught us.

Thank you, Mrs. Swofford.

Author’s Note: I knew Mrs. Swofford had passed away last year, so at the last minute I decided to look up as I was publishing this post. Ironically, she died one year ago today – September 28, 2020.

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The Cotter Bridge

Have you ever been to Cotter, Arkansas?

If you don’t live somewhere near Northwest Arkansas or Southwest Missouri, the answer might be no…and that’s too bad….because it is definitely a little place worth exploring!

When I was a little girl, my Daddy worked for a company called Ozark Sash and Door owned and operated in Springdale and Berryville, Arkansas by the Hanby family. Before the days of the big box stores, there was a hardware store of some type in most every little community. Daddy traveled a regular route weekly through Missouri and Arkansas, selling building materials to those little stores. Sometimes, Mother and I would ride with him…

On Tuesdays, his route took him from Harrison to Mountain Home, with many stops in between. Traveling the old 62 highway back in those days took us across the Cotter Bridge…

The old bridge is unique in many ways. Sitting high above the White River, it is beautiful with its patented rainbow arches and lighted lamps. As a little girl however, crossing the bridge was fun for another reason. When on the bridge headed toward Cotter, a large, old railroad trestle sits to your left, angling diagonally toward your path. It intersects the Cotter Bridge just at the end, crossing underneath at the last minute. Sometimes, a train would be chugging across that trestle bridge just as we, in Daddy’s truck, were driving across the Cotter bridge. It was always exciting – looking just a tiny bit like we were surely about to collide with the train (in my little girl’s mind). It was a little bit scary – and lots of fun!

The Cotter Bridge has an interesting history. According to the Encyclopedia of Arkansas, it was completed in 1930. Originally operated as a toll bridge to recoup construction costs, it allowed east-west travelers a reliable White River crossing. Ferries used previously were often unavailable due to frequent flooding in the area, and the closest detour crossing was 100 miles to the north in Branson, Missouri. Designed by the Marsh Engineering Company in Des Moines, Iowa, the graceful structure is still beautiful today.

When highway 62 was rerouted near the turn of this century, a new bridge was built just a short distance to the northeast. Thankfully, the old bridge was preserved and remains open to vehicle traffic for anyone who likes to veer off the beaten path.

All these years later, a visit to the Cotter bridge is still something I enjoy. I make the drive over several times a year…it’s a great little day trip. Beneath the bridge, there is a pleasant little city park on the banks of the White River. Big Springs Park is a relaxing gathering place for families, fishermen, and old folks…

The park pays homage to Cotter’s railroad history with a caboose, a statue, and some interesting informational markers to read as you wander about. There’s also a boat ramp, fishing spots, picnic tables, benches, a covered pavilion, a sand volleyball court, a quaint little gazebo that could serve as a bandstand, a walking path, and best of all a true old-fashioned swimming hole complete with a rope swing.

It’s fun to visit the park on a summer afternoon or evening, to sit and watch the kids play in the swimming hole, to picnic, or just set up your lawn chairs in a shady spot, enjoy the cool breezes blowing in from the river, and visit with folks from all over. Cotter, after all, is known as the “Trout Fishing Capital of the World” and many people travel miles to enjoy this quaint little town. I always drive to nearby Gassville first, to pick up a pizza at Nima’s. (This little pizza place has won numerous awards including “Best in the U.S.” at national competitions and even “Best in the World” at international events. Definitely a “don’t miss” place!)

The best part of the park, however, are the magnificent views of the historic old bridge. I hope you enjoy the images I captured last month on one of my day trips over there. It truly is a beautiful, peaceful, and rejuvenating spot.

Click here for a shortcut to the gallery. Thank you for stopping by!

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Vision brings New Purpose

In February of 2019, I wrote a blog post about the incredible restoration and repurpose occurring at the old mill located on the banks of the Finley River in Ozark, Missouri. (Click here to reread it, if you’re interested.) It has been exciting to see the huge building, nearly 100 years old, meticulously restored and revamped. It had sat quietly for nearly 30 years since closing its doors (then seemingly permanently) – but it has now come gloriously back to life once again…

Finley River Park

For years, whenever I have had a little extra time while driving north toward Springfield, Missouri, I have indulged myself with a few minutes to exit off highway 65 and head east down Jackson Street so that I could drive through Finley River Park. Any friends or family members who have ridden with me very often know my routine well – it’s a habit I’ve had for many years, and I’ve taken them along with me so many times. It’s such a beautiful spot – almost always alive with people walking the loop, fishing, kayaking or canoeing, reading, or just sitting and lazily enjoying the tranquil, beautiful little oasis in the middle of Ozark.

Finley River Bridge
Finley River Bridge, Ozark, MO

The old Finley River bridge provides a beautiful backdrop and just beyond it sits the historic Ozark Mill. For years, the old mill sat quiet and abandoned after years of service to the town of Ozark and its surrounding area. The original mill was built on this spot almost 200 years ago – even before Ozark was officially a town. Fires through the decades destroyed most of those original structures. Nevertheless, the Ozark Mill was always repaired and rebuilt, operating continuously on this same spot from the 1830’s until the early 1990’s. What a significant and enduring impact this must have been to the community!

Ozark Mill on the Finley River

At the time it closed its doors, it was reported to be the last working water-powered mill operating in Missouri. Shutting down the old mill was definitely the end of an era…and I feel confident many were sad to see it go. So many times, I have said that it would be a shame for the old building to be lost forever – but sensibly it seemed inevitable. The Finley River frequently flooded the old building….and besides – what could it economically be repurposed to provide?

Of course, as with all things, it takes people with vision – people willing to look beyond the norms and think outside the box…and often (as in this case), we all benefit from the efforts of these wonderful innovative thinkers…

The Ozark Mill; August 3, 2021
The Ozark Mill Restaurant
Views from The Ozark Mill Restaurant

…The restored Ozark Mill, a part of Bass Pro owner Johnny Morris’ wonderful new Finley Farms development, officially opened last night to the public as a wonderful restaurant and shopping experience. Once worn and silent, the old building was full of life yesterday evening and there was a feeling of celebration in the air. The weather was perfect for outdoor seating, with a pleasant breeze blowing over the Finley. Soft music, combined with the gentle noises of rushing water from the waterfalls, the beautiful setting, and all of the lovely, well-planned details made for an ambiance of rustic elegance. Our server Audry, and in fact the entire staff, was professional, friendly, eager to assist, and seemed excited to open the new restaurant in the grand old building. The menu selection was creative, the table setting was unique (our table napkins were patterned after old fashioned dish towels – how fun!), and the food was delicious. I ordered the “Ricotta Ravioli”, which was wonderful, and was fortunate to also taste the “Hog & Feed Flatbread” as well as the “Chicken and Dumplins”. All were very unique, beautifully plated, and absolutely delicious. The menu offers three desserts – but at my table we were intrigued by the “Signature Green Tomato Cake”. “Trust us it’s amazing” was bravely captioned on the menu…..and they were right! Bright green in color, it was moist and delicious – tasting somewhat like an old-fashioned spice cake.

Ricotta Ravioli from The Ozark Mill restaurant

Signature Green Tomato Cake from The Ozark Mill restaurant

Ducks, cranes, and other waterfowl unassumingly entertained us while we ate and comfortably enjoyed our time by the water. The entire evening was wonderful from start to finish. In fact, I’m already looking forward to going back! I heard others talking about how fabulous the “Cast Iron Cornbread” appetizer was….and the “Risotto Fritters” sound intriguing! 🙂

Truth be told, I’m not always a huge fan of change. (Note – this comes as absolutely no surprise to anyone who knows me! 🙂 In fact, I can almost hear them chuckling as they read this. ) So often change feels frightening, unsettling….even painful. However, sometimes….change can bring really great things. It may sound silly, but dinner at the old mill last night reminded me that in some cases endings bring new beginnings, that closing one door may open the doors to new experiences – at times even surpassing those of the past.

I’m going to try to remember that.