The House That Steel Built: Lessons in Grit from Edgar and Miss Allie Smith’s Front Porch

Allie Murray Smith

This morning I am sitting on the front porch of a historic home in Plains, Georgia known as Mother Allie’s House . Rain is falling softly and the birds are singing. Everything is peaceful and beautiful – and I am grateful for the opportunity to be here. This is the home where former First Lady of the United States, Rosalynn Carter, was raised along with her three siblings. Today, it is a beautifully preserved rental guest home/VRBO, lovingly and meticulously put together by the family to deeply reflect the warmth and history of someone I have discovered to be an absolutely remarkable woman – Mrs. Frances Allethea (Murray) Smith – affectionately known to many as “Miss Allie”.

​The family has generously placed many wonderful books about the Smith and Carter families in this house, making it easy to learn during your stay about the history of this home and the people who lived here.

By all accounts, Miss Allie’s early life was filled with the warmth of a happy childhood. Born just south of Plains on Christmas Eve, 1905, she was the deeply cherished daughter of John William “Captain” Murray and Rosa Nettie Wise Murray. Before Allie was born, her parents suffered a devastating heartbreak when their only son tragically passed away before reaching his first birthday. After that profound loss, Allie grew up essentially as an only child on the family farm. Knowing the sorrow her parents carried surely made them dote on her even more, pouring their love, protective attention, and family resources into their only daughter.

​In 1924, after Allie graduated from Plains High School, her parents did something truly extraordinary for a rural farming family: they sent her to college. To understand how vast that ambition was, you have to realize that during that era, less than 5% of all Americans held a college degree. It was a time when a woman’s opportunities were drastically limited, but Allie’s family obviously deeply valued the intellect of their daughter. She moved to Milledgeville to attend the Georgia State College for Women. There, she earned a degree in teaching, specializing in home economics, and graduated with her diploma on June 7, 1926.

​Less than two weeks later, on June 20, 1926, she married her sweetheart, Wilburn Edgar Smith, who was nine years her senior. Theirs was a rare, lifelong romance that had begun years earlier. Later in life, Allie would frequently tell her children that Edgar was the only man for her, and that she could never love another—a promise of absolute devotion she kept for the rest of her days.

​Historical records and Rosalynn Carter’s own memoirs reveal that Edgar Smith’s passion for education was rooted in his own deferred dreams. Edgar was an incredibly intelligent man, but because his own family needed him to work, he never had the opportunity to go to college himself. He spent his life surrounded by books, reading voraciously, and watching the world change. Because he couldn’t pursue higher education, he made it a mission of his life that each of his children would.

​To build a secure life for his new bride and the four children that soon followed—Eleanor Rosalynn, William Jerrold, Murray Lee, and Lillian Allethea—he became a true jack-of-all-trades. He was an avid farmer, a clerk at a local store, and a school bus driver. Most notably, he stepped up to meet the demands of the changing times by owning and operating the very first auto mechanic and repair shop in Sumter County….just down the street from where I’m sitting now. He was the man who kept the rural community moving forward, fixing the temperamental engines of early automobiles and maintaining the tractors that were revolutionizing modern farming. Beyond his manual labor and entrepreneurial drive, Edgar was a deeply respected civic leader, actively shaping the town’s future as an elected member of the Plains Town Council.

​Through genius and sacrifice, Edgar used his multiple jobs to quietly build a college fund for his children, methodically purchasing U.S. Savings Bonds and funneling every spare penny from his mechanic shop into a sacred, untouchable account. I am amazed that he was so forward thinking – that he valued education so much that he saved (during hard times) to send his children to college. Can you imagine?

​In 1928, when their eldest daughter Rosalynn was just a sixteen-month-old toddler, Edgar and Allie moved the family into a house on South Bond Street – the same house where I am spending the week. Together, they built a life here on a foundation of community service, visionary hard work, and family devotion…and looked forward to a long life together.

​However, in the late 1930s, Edgar fell terribly ill with leukemia – and at that time there were no effective treatments. For over a year, the family watched his health decline, comforted by local neighbors like Miss Lillian Carter—Jimmy Carter’s mother—who visited daily as a registered nurse to administer his routine medical injections. On October 22, 1940, Edgar passed away at home at the young age of 44.

​At just 35 years old, Miss Allie was suddenly a grieving widow with four young children and no job to support them. When you look at the ages of her children at the time of her husband’s death, the sheer weight of her new reality is staggering: Rosalynn was 13, Jerry was 11, Murray was 8 (turning eight on the exact day his father died), and Allethea was 3. In the immediate aftermath, a heartbroken Miss Allie penned a line that laid bare her grief:

“I miss him and I don’t know what I will do without him.”

​When Edgar died, he managed to leave behind a small inheritance and savings account for his family. But as Howard Norton details in Rosalynn, A Portrait, Rosalynn recalled that her mother fiercely resolved never to touch a single cent of that inheritance. She was determined to bring up and educate her children entirely through her own efforts, keeping Edgar’s sacred college fund intact. What a determined lady.

​The blows kept coming. Less than a year after losing her husband, Allie’s mother, Rosa, passed away at age 60. Suddenly, Allie was not only raising four small children alone, but her aging, grieving father, “Captain” Murray, came to live with them in the house. It is almost impossible to imagine how terrifyingly hard it must have been for her. For fourteen years, she had lived a sheltered life centered around being a protected homemaker. Now, she had to navigate intense, compounding family grief while carrying the sole financial survival and care of six people on her shoulders. I am sleeping in Miss Allie’s bedroom this week – and when I lay down at night I have been thinking about the weight of responsibility she must have felt – yet all of the stories I hear from others about her are stories of her love, her faith, her strength, and her joy. What a remarkable lady.

​To make a living, Miss Allie started taking in sewing. She didn’t just mend clothes; she took on master-level tailoring. She crafted beautiful, intricate wedding dresses—which quickly became one of her highly sought-after specialties—and she even tackled the incredibly difficult task of making tailored men’s suits and heavy overcoats from scratch. Ladies from the community valued her work. When they found a dress somewhere that they admired, she could study it and then make it for them. There are several examples of her work here in the house – and they are absolutely beautiful.

​One steady, dependable source of income came from the family farm – which she rented out instead of selling. However, even though she needed that cash to keep the household running, she insisted on funneling every single penny of that rent money straight into the untouchable savings for her children’s college funds.

​She took other work to support her family – working in the school cafeteria and as a grocery store clerk. After a few years, she took the federal civil service examination, passed it, and was awarded a position as an assistant to the postmaster at the local post office in Plains. It became a defining pillar of her life. She clocked in at 7:00 AM every single morning for 29 years, walking to work from this very house. She loved her job and the daily connection it gave her to the townspeople. When she reached the mandatory federal retirement age of 70, she was still sharp, energetic, and fully capable of working. She fought passionately against leaving, but federal regulations forced her to step down against her will—an experience that deeply saddened her.

​(In an incredible and wonderful twist of history, that mandatory retirement rule wouldn’t stand forever. Her son-in-law, President Jimmy Carter, signed the Age Discrimination in Employment Act Amendments into law, raising and eventually eliminating mandatory retirement ages for federal employees.)

​Even after her forced retirement, Allie refused to slow down, taking a part-time job at a local flower shop just to keep busy. Her younger son Murray beautifully remembered that while the family was technically poor, “she forgot to tell us.” No matter how hard things got, Murray recalled always getting exactly what he needed, whether it was a new pair of basketball shoes or a baseball glove. She encouraged her children to work early; Murray delivered papers, delivered groceries, clerked in the local store, and worked behind the soda fountain at the drug store before he was even 12 years old.

​In the book Rosalynn, A Portrait, the future First Lady reflected on the painful time when the family was dealing with the loss of her father, sharing a memory that would shape her forever:

​”We depended on mother for everything after father died. And that’s when I saw my mother develop into a strong, independent person, assuming full responsibility for the family and asking no help or charity from anyone. That made a deep impression on me. I’m sure it turned out to be a permanent influence.”

​In a beautiful personal tribute written later in life (found in the book Mother Allie’s Recipes), Rosalynn expanded on that legacy:

​”My mother was a wonderful role model for me. She was always there when I needed her; she had confidence in me and encouraged me in whatever I tried to do; and she taught me by her example… I watched her take charge, and do what she had to do. Those early experiences helped prepare me to accept my own challenges and do the best I could with them.”

​But Allie didn’t just provide food, clothes, and tuition—she anchored her children in something much deeper. Her son, Murray Lee Smith (named after Mother Allie’s maiden name), noted that his mother’s personal demonstration of Christianity in her life, combined with her insistence that her children go to Sunday school, church, and study the Bible regularly, gave them all a spiritual bedrock that never faltered. As Murray beautifully penned,

“We grew up seeing Christ through mother. She was a wonderful person and the greatest mother in the world.”

​As a single parent, Miss Allie had to serve as both mother and father to her children. Rather than ruling with an iron fist, she raised her children with intelligence and example. Her oldest son Jerry recalled how his mother uniquely used psychology on them when they started dating. Unlike the parents of almost all their peers, Miss Allie famously refused to lay down a strict, rigid curfew. Instead, she chose a tactic that was far more powerful and impactful. As Jerry remembered:

​”…Mother repeatedly impressed on us that she had tried all our lives to teach us what is right and what is wrong, and that if we hadn’t learned that by then, she had failed as a mother. Well, after a quiet lecture like that, when we all went out with our dates we were determined that we would do the right thing so mother would not feel that she had failed and we almost always got home at a reasonable hour.”

​In his own heartfelt note (found in the book Mother Allie’s Recipes), Jerry shared just how unbreakable that bond remained into adulthood:

​”Mother was my best friend. She cannot be replaced. Even though I had moved far away, married and had children of my own, she remained my best friend. She was always there in my times of need. A telephone call was all it took. Every decision ever made by me in my entire life was and will continue to be guided by the fine Christian upbringing provided by my beloved mother.”

​Sitting on her porch today, I am thinking a lot about this remarkable lady. Her life inspires me – and reading the tributes from her children brings tears to my eyes. Her youngest daughter, Allethea, beautifully wrote this sentiment in her own tribute to her Mother (found in the Mother Allie cookbook):

​”God made a miracle when he made Mother. She was my friend, my confidant, my inspiration, both mother and father to me… I miss her and even though she is no longer with us I still feel her presence. She did all she could do for us here on earth and now she has gone on to heaven to get it ready for us.”

​Sending four children to college in that day and age as a single, widowed mother was nothing short of incredible. Yet, because of Edgar’s vision, Allie’s steel-willed determination, and their shared foundation of faith and trust, every single one of their four children graduated from college—fulfilling Edgar’s dreams and setting off a ripple effect of leadership that would eventually reach the global stage.

​In future posts, I can’t wait to take you on a little tour of this historic home and show you the wonderful mementos that the family has preserved here—the breathtakingly intricate needlework, the delicate crochet, and the beautiful things she made with the very same hands that scrubbed floors, provided hugs, and sorted mail.

​But today, I just want to honor the legacy of Edgar and Allie together. I am so grateful to get to spend the week in their home and learn from the examples and the ideals they lived by. In a world that often celebrates loud, flashy achievements, I am standing in awe of the quiet, fierce, unbreakable strength that built this household. They proved that with enough vision, faith, grit, and love, two ordinary people can hold the world together for their children in an extraordinary manner.

​Isn’t that remarkable?

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The Interconnected Tapestry of Life: Finding Connections Wherever We Go

A vintage Capitol Records 45 RPM vinyl record of Merle Haggard and The Strangers singing Grandma Harp.

Have you ever had those moments where you realize the world is so much smaller, and that we are all so much more beautifully interconnected than we realize?

For as long as I can remember, I have been a collector of hidden connections… not things you can hold in your hand, but all the little moments, the little pieces of treasure that life routinely drops in our path.

I think it stems from how I was raised and the journeys life has taken me on so far. My parents and I moved to Carroll County, Arkansas, when I was a little girl… and I suddenly felt so far away from everyone and everything I’d ever known. Before our move, we had lived in a safe, cozy, loving cocoon of family—and suddenly, we knew absolutely no one. It made the world feel kinda big, exciting, scary, lonely, and unpredictable all at once.

Very quickly though….I began to find some connections…and as it turned out, our new county wasn’t such an unfamiliar place after all! Daddy told me that my great-uncle Ira had once worked in the Berryville Post Office building—not for the postal service, but in the county agent’s office. How neat! To this day, I still think of him almost every time I drive by that beautiful old building – and I enjoy the connection.

When I started school in Green Forest, I found out that it wasn’t a place without ties either; my cousin Sarah had graduated from high school there in 1951. Ironically, two of her classmates from that graduating class were sisters, Eula and Ramona, who both ended up becoming our neighbors. Ramona has since passed away, but her sweet son and daughter-in-law are still my neighbors today, and Eula lives just across the fields from me. (Isn’t that cool?)

Those early experiences taught me a lesson I haven’t forgotten: There are always connections around for us to find… and they can help to comfort us and make anywhere feel like home.

I am forever grateful to my parents for diligently emphasizing to me that it’s important to be friendly, to respect others, to appreciate blessings, to strive to approach each day with joy… and to develop and maintain a curious mind that is always eager to learn. Because of that, I see life every day as an incredibly beautiful, varied tapestry that is never truly finished. We go through our days collecting tiny pieces of information, stories, memories, interactions, and moments…things to think about and then carefully tuck away to remember…always looking for new things to connect them to…

Sometimes, the connections come quickly and click right into place. Other times, it takes decades for a memory to find its match. But when the threads finally tie together, it is such fun!

Let me give you an example:

When I was a little girl, we listened to music a lot—either in the car on our fancy new 8-track player (lol) or in the living room on our big, wooden console stereo cabinet. (Google them if you don’t know—they were huge and very cool…at the time! 🙂 ) We spent a lot of time listening to southern gospel albums, comedy albums, classic country music (well… it wasn’t classic then, but it is now!), and more.

One of the many artists we enjoyed was Merle Haggard. His voice would drift out of that wooden console cabinet singing “Mama Tried,” “Okie from Muskogee,” “Silver Wings,” “Workin’ Man Blues,” and “If We Make it Through December.” Great singer—he had such a smooth, relaxed, rich voice…

Years later, I was in college and living with Mel and Judy Tillis, taking care of their sweet little daughter. One morning when I woke up and went sleepily upstairs for breakfast, I found Merle Haggard sitting in the living room visiting with Mel. I said hello and quickly left them to their conversation, but I was really excited to tell Mother and Daddy that I had met Mr. Haggard. It created a wonderful new connection—linking that real-life morning to those childhood days listening to his music with Daddy.

A few years ago, another unexpected tie surfaced on a road trip. A friend and I were driving on Highway 69 across Oklahoma. I glanced up at a road sign and at the last minute saw an exit for “Checotah.” I immediately flipped on my turn signal and tapped the brake to slow down and exit the highway. My friend looked at me curiously, wondering why we were detouring. I smiled and told her we had to take a minute to “drag main” through Checotah because it was Carrie Underwood’s hometown! She asked me how on earth I knew that, and I told her I had learned it from a song. I opened up Spotify and played “I Ain’t in Checotah Anymore” as we rolled through town. Such fun!

Highway 69 exit sign - Checotah, Oklahoma

When we stopped to get a soda, we started digging into the history of Checotah (population 3,110) a little bit…and we found another small connection: Merle Haggard had ties there also. His parents, James Francis Haggard and Flossie Mae Harp, had lived and farmed in Checotah before moving out to California, where Merle was born. I tucked what we had learned away in my mind… another random bit of history collected.

Fast forward several years…and the connections really start to get more interesting. Working in and living near Harrison, I often drive over to Newton County, Arkansas. It’s a beautiful part of the state—and a great “day trip” destination. I love to eat at the Ozark Cafe or the Cliff House Restaurant. I love to drive through Lost Valley, Steel Creek, and Ponca just to soak in the calming beauty of nature and take a few pictures. I love to park and watch the elk. There is so much to see and do there…it’s good for the soul!

A few years ago, while I was in Ponca taking pictures one day, I walked over to explore an old historic cabin sitting near the intersection of Highways 43 and 74, not far from the Ponca low-water bridge.

A brown wooden sign that reads Boxley Valley Historic District, Buffalo National River, with a historic log cabin and autumn trees in the background.

It was fascinating! The National Park Service’s historical marker about the “Beaver Jim Villines Boyhood Home” explained how Abraham Villines and his children were among the earliest pioneer families to settle in the Buffalo River Valley, carving a home out of the wilderness back in the 1850s. I snapped a photo of the sign and took some pictures of the old cabin, admiring the hand-hewn logs, thinking about the hardships of the day-to-day lives of the family who built it, and feeling a deep appreciation for all the history preserved there. I tucked this new information back in my mind and went on enjoying the day.

An outdoor informational placard detailing the history of Beaver Jim Villines and his pioneer family settling along the Buffalo River.

Fast forward again! At Harrison Schools, I work with a friend named Matt Piper. Like me, Matt is greatly interested in history, family, and ancestry. One day, he mentioned a song to me that was written about a member of his family—his great-great-great aunt Martha Frances Arizona Belle “Zona” Villines Harp. (I absolutely LOVE her name! Stop and say it out loud to yourself. Isn’t it great?)

A vintage Capitol Records 45 RPM vinyl record of Merle Haggard and The Strangers singing Grandma Harp.

The song is titled simply “Grandma Harp,” and it was written and recorded back in 1971 by country music artist Merle Haggard as a tribute to his maternal grandmother. I loved learning this! (In case you’re now wondering—that makes Matt a second cousin, three times removed to Mr. Haggard. Very cool, Matt!!!)

A black and white historical family photograph from 1897 featuring the Hosea and Harriet Villines family, including a young Zona Villines.

After work that day, I was excited to hear the song, so I pulled up “Grandma Harp” on Spotify and listened to it a few times on my drive home. It was a B-side recording – but it’s actually been covered by a few other artists…and I can see why. It’s a simple, sweet, and incredibly loving tribute. In the spoken-word prologue, Mr. Haggard reflects on how his grandmother lived through an era of great historical and social change—from horse-and-buggy days to the very first automobiles, to seeing a man walk on the moon and living through two world wars…all while “rearing a decent family out of poverty and loving the same old Grandpa for seventy years”.

The lyrics made me thoughtful about life, our heritage, and the lasting impact we leave on others… As I drove home listening to the song, all of these separate stories suddenly clicked.

The voice coming through my car speakers was the same voice I used to hear on my parents’ record player as a little girl in Hattieville, Arkansas. It was the same man I had met briefly as a college student in Branson. And the “Grandma Harp” he was singing about carried the maiden name Villines—relatives of the pioneer family whose historic log cabin I had explored and photographed in Ponca… and the same family with connections to the little town of Checotah, Oklahoma, and to my coworker Matt in Harrison.

There really are beautiful connections all around us every day.

It was a beautiful reminder to keep our eyes wide open and our hearts curious. We are never truly strangers in a new place, because if you dig just an inch below the surface, you’ll find that the stories of our lives are all quietly walking down the exact same paths. What a beautiful reminder that we are all a little more connected than we think.

Listen Along: If you like, you can listen to Merle Haggard’s “Grandma Harp” on YouTube. Take a moment to listen to the spoken-word prologue at the beginning—it is just lovely.

Have you ever discovered a surprising connection to a piece of history, a place, or someone from your past right in your own backyard? I would absolutely love to hear your story!

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The Shoulders We Stand On

This past Sunday, I made the familiar drive home to Conway County, and I am so very glad I did….

The first Sunday in May is always Decoration Day at Old Hickory Cemetery. For me, it’s more than just a cemetery – It is a landscape of my history as well as many blessed memories.

When I was a little girl, graves were built up for Decoration Days. Daddy would haul in dirt to put on top of his father’s (my grandfather’s) grave and use a shovel to carefully mound it up, then a rake to make it smooth and neat before we placed the flowers to decorate the grave. Today, the modern convenience of riding mowers requires flat surfaces, so the mounds are gone—but the love that shaped them remains. That kind of love never really dies; it just waits for us to come back and remember it. That’s part of what Decoration Days are about…..remembering.

It’s a beautiful, time-honored pattern. Family members and friends arrive on Saturday or early Sunday to clean and tend the graves. Then, on Sunday afternoon, everyone returns to walk the grounds, admire the colorful silk arrangements, and share stories. Eventually, we all gather under the shade trees to talk and laugh and connect and catch up. Decoration Days are also about building and maintaining connections.

This past weekend, the weather was a rare gift—temperatures were pleasant and a cool breeze was blowing instead of the May heat and humidity that is typical. It was a wonderful weekend for the event….but as I looked around, I noticed there were fewer in attendance than ever before. There were two children walking through the cemetery with their grandmother and listening eagerly as she pointed out names and shared her memories of long ago. I was glad to see it – and thankful that my family had walked me through this same cemetery so many times sharing our stories and history as well. They gave me a gift.

I feel sad to see these traditions wane, because I believe these ties to our past are so important. It’s our history. Our history gives us some of our “why.” When we know and understand the grit and the joy of those who came before us – we find a compass for our own lives…..and it can change our trajectory.

In a way, it is a privilege—one I don’t take for granted—to have so many direct ancestors in one spot. One of my friends recently told me that she doesn’t know who her ancestors were, much less where they are buried. Over 30 of mine are within a 25-mile radius of where I grew up. To have 14 direct ancestors buried within 50 yards of where I will one day lie, many many years from now… it is a priceless kind of heritage. I am grateful to my parents and family for sharing the stories with me and blessing me with the memories.

On the drive home, I turned off to head down the winding little dirt road toward the little community of Lost Corner, Arkansas to decorate the graves of my great-grandparents, Mama and Papa Scroggins, and my great-great-grandmother, Ida.

The first thing you see as you wind down the road is a neat little old building (now used as a church) that stands quiet in front of the cemetery. It serves as a church building now, but a long time ago it was a school. I have a picture of my Mam-ma, my great aunt Sylvia, and my great aunt Ethel – along with their classmates standing outside the school as children. When I’m there, I love to imagine the sights and sounds of them running and playing and wondering and growing up here.

Mama and Papa and their girls had a hard life – but also good. They worked hard – picking cotton to make a living. My Mam-ma and her sisters ran and played with the other children while their parents picked – until they were about seven years old…then they joined their parents in fields. It’s hard work. Pickers slung a cotton bag over their shoulder to drag behind them and fill with cotton as they moved down the row. My great-aunt Verna said that when she was a little girl she would pick and drag that bag until it was too heavy for her to move. Then, she would leave that row for Mama or Papa to finish while she started on a new one.

Even with all the hard work, Mama Scroggins found time for art and beauty. She was naturally clever and artistic, often cleverly repurposing things instead of throwing them away. I have two small candleholders on the piano in my living room that she made from used metal cans. She even created her own wedding ring out of a solid silver quarter. Pretty talented!

My great-aunt Verna told me that Mama Scroggins would save scraps of paper all year long. Every spring, neighbors would come asking her to make paper flowers to decorate family graves – and she would work to get them made for everyone. Think of that—in a time of such hard manual labor, she found time to be an artist. After the day’s work was done, she spent her evenings folding, twisting, and cutting “scraps” into flowers to decorate the graves at the little cemetery where she now lies. The flowers I had bought to place on her grave were silk—but maybe next year I will learn to make paper flowers just for her. I would like that. She left a legacy that I want to remember and carry with me.

We are always moving forward in this life – and that’s good – but taking the time to look back—to learn and remember and honor the people who came before us—is how we realize whose shoulders we are standing on. We didn’t get here on our own. The progress, every comfort, and the joys we enjoy today was provided to us, to some degree, by the hard work of those who picked the sharp bolls of cotton until their fingers bled, by the resourcefulness of silver-quarter rings, and the quiet beauty of paper-flower bouquets of yesterday. When we remember them, we ensure that their contributions continue to live through us.

Does your family have a “Decoration Day” tradition? Or perhaps you have a “Mama Scroggins” in your history who made something beautiful out of nothing? I would love to hear about the shoulders you stand on in the comments today.

#ThinkOnGoodThings #OldHickory #LostCorner #ConwayCounty #ArkansasHistory #DecorationDay #FamilyLegacy #MamaScroggins #Roots #BlessedMemories #StandingOnShoulders

The Recipes That Connect Us: A Full Circle Moment in Marshfield

The Recipes That Connect Us:

A Full Circle Moment in Marshfield

Since I was a child, I have loved to read stories about people. I can clearly see in my mind where the biographies section was shelved in the Berryville Elementary library back when I was in school. I couldn’t wait to read them all. There were stories about Booker T. Washington, Babe Didrickson, Chief Joseph, Betsy Ross, Dolley Madison, John F. Kennedy, John Paul Jones, the Wright Brothers, and so many more….

My Mother encouraged my love of reading by buying me books that I was interested in — books such as the Laura Ingalls Wilder series that I love dearly to this day. We couldn’t afford to buy the entire series at once — so Mother would get me one at a time…. buying most of them at the Bible bookstore that used to be on the northwest side of the Ozark Mall in Harrison. When she bought the last book in the series, she asked the store owner about the little cardboard box holder—the kind usually only available when you bought the entire set at once. Lo and behold, they had an extra for some reason, and my collection was finally complete. I still have that very well-worn treasured set today.

I was about 10 years old when I finished those “Little House” books, and the next time I went back to the Bible bookstore with Mother I searched for something new to read. It was always exciting to me to browse the books and anticipate the stories to be found in each one. That particular afternoon, I left the children’s books and wandered through the adult section where I spotted a book about our (then) First Lady, Mrs. Rosalynn Carter.

The picture on the cover was just beautiful. Mrs. Carter was wearing a stylish navy blue dress and looked so pretty with a lovely, warm smile on her face. When I told Mother that this was the book I wanted, she never hesitated. She didn’t tell me that this particular book was probably above my reading level or that it was a book intended for adults — she just bought me the book — and for that, I am grateful. I always thought I could do whatever I set out to do because my parents believed in me and encouraged me in my pursuits.

I have read so many books through the years. Some of them I have kept, some I haven’t…. but I still have that biography of Mrs. Carter.

Now let’s fast forward about…..50 years. (Goodness — that went by quickly! 🙂)

This week, I was fortunate to attend the 2026 Missouri Cherry Blossom Festival in Marshfield, Missouri. This festival is such a rich and intricate tapestry of history and community that it’s honestly hard to find the right words to do it justice. In fact, that’s a task for other posts soon to come!

In this story, I want to focus on one particular festival event — a cooking class.

For me, it was one of the highlights of the week — because I absolutely love to cook and I dearly love collecting great recipes with connections. Yes, on today’s internet you can search and find pretty much any recipe you like… but in my opinion, this is a loss instead of a gain. Recipes that are passed down throughout families, recipes that you get from friends and neighbors — are recipes with connections…. and those connections make not only the preparations but the meals so much more meaningful and enjoyable.

This was the second year I attended the Cherry Blossom cooking class, hosted by Andrew Och. Andrew is known as the “First Ladies’ Man” because he spent years traveling across the country, visiting the homes and hometowns of every single American First Lady to document their unique stories. This cooking class is a special event — and I wish you could have been there! Let me tell you about it and hopefully take you there with me through the story…

Conducted by Mrs. Allethea Wall (the sister of former First Lady Rosalynn Carter), her daughter, Julie Wall-Smith, and her daughter-in-law, Courtney Wall, it was a reminder of true Southern hospitality.

These ladies worked so hard to make every guest feel at home. At each table, we found a wonderful collection of “connections” to the place they still hold so dear—Plains, Georgia:

  • A flyer for Butterfly Daze 2026 — an annual celebration in Plains that honors the butterfly trail Mrs. Carter championed to protect the monarch butterfly.
  • A brochure for Mother Allie’s House — Mrs Carter and Mrs. Wall’s childhood home that has been beautifully restored and is now available as a charming vacation rental. Wouldn’t that be memorable and fun?
  • A copy of Sumter County Living magazine, featuring a lovely article about Mrs. Wall (page 66! 🙂 )
  • Small packages of Plains Peanuts (so delicious and completely addictive!)

The class was a beautiful picture of a family working together. Julie took the lead on demonstrating and preparing the dishes while Courtney assisted her, making sure everything was ready for each step. Mrs. Wall sat with them, the steady heart of the demonstration, providing her wisdom and a beautiful, welcoming smile.

This year, the stars of the show were three classic recipes: Cheese Straws, Rosalynn Carter’s Famous Cheese Ring, and a simple and delicious Peanut Butter Pie.

They shared their secrets while they worked — like how much grating your own extra-sharp cheese (not buying pre-grated!) makes recipes better and the importance of using only Duke’s mayonnaise. (I’m never without a jar of Duke’s in my own refrigerator — it truly is a staple! If you’ve never tried it, you are missing out!)

The real highlight came at the end, when we all sat down to enjoy the delicious cheese ring and cheese straws and peanut butter pies together.

After I left that day, I thought back to my 10-year-old self in the Bible bookstore holding the biography of Mrs. Carter. I realized that the real blessing of this class wasn’t just the food (though it was wonderful!) It was the connections.

We live in a world that can sometimes feel so divided, but in that room, surrounded by a recipe, a conversation, and the beautiful smiles of new friends, I was reminded that we really do all have so much in common. Sometimes, a simple recipe and a kind conversation can bridge the gap, can encourage us, and can remind us that things are still so good.

The best recipes aren’t just lists of ingredients… they are the ones that connect our past to our present, and our hearts to new friends.

The Stories I Wish I Knew

old books

I’ve been researching my ancestry for the past several months and I have so enjoyed all of the family members I am “meeting” and all of their stories I am discovering. I’m so grateful to the people and organizations who have recorded history – whether it be census data, official records, written family accounts, cemetery information, and so on. They help to piece together the stories of the people that came before – the people who worked and sacrificed and tried and failed and tried again and created…..blazing trails for all the rest of us. I’ve said it many times, we stand on the shoulders of those who came before us…the people who pioneered the land, developed communities, organized our systems and structures, built the roads….those who invented, created, established, loved, learned, and grew….

I’ve posted about some of my relatives recently….but so far none have had a name so interesting, so unique, as that of my great-great grandmother……but I’ll get to that in a minute… 🙂 When I was a child attending first grade at Wonderview Public Schools, I rode the bus roughly 9 miles from Hattieville to Wonderview every morning….and 9 miles back every afternoon. Those familiar with this area will easily know that the school bus passed through the community of St. Vincent, Arkansas on the way. It’s interesting to me that I have ridden (and later driven) Arkansas highway 95 so many times through the years – and didn’t know that some of my ancestors were buried in a tiny family cemetery neatly fenced off in the middle of a little pasture beside the highway. The little cemetery has only five graves….my great-great grandfather, Thomas Jefferson McReynolds (a pretty interesting name in it’s own right, don’t you think?), my great-great grandmother (the one with the fun, interesting name), and three others.

Okay – back to the name! I hope you like it as well as I do. My great-great grandmother’s birth name is Tennessee Turnbow. Say that one out loud! C’mon – it’s fun! 🙂

According to some of the records, her family called her “Tennie”. So, as an adult her married name was Tennie McReynolds…. I like it – it’s also got a pretty nice ring to it – but I have to admit I like Tennessee Turnbow even better!

Though I’ve tried hard to learn about her, information is very limited. Diligent searches over time have put together the following very short biography:

“When Tennessee “Tennie” Turnbow was born on April 24, 1850, in Maury County, Tennessee, her father, John, was 41, and her mother, Cathryn, was 35. The entire family moved to Pope County, Arkansas when she was a young child and she grew up there. She married Thomas Jefferson McReynolds on December 22, 1869 and they set up their first home in Dover. Later they moved to Conway County, Arkansas. They had five children during their marriage. Tennessee died as a young mother on September 10, 1880, in Hattieville, Arkansas, at the age of 30. When she passed away, her children were ages 8, 7, 6, 4, and 1½. How hard this must have been. She was buried in St. Vincent, Arkansas – the first grave in the McReynolds Cemetery.”

Five years after her death, my great-great grandfather remarried a lady named Isabelle Templeton and soon more children joined the family.

The information leaves me curious – I can think of so many questions. Without Tennessee Turnbow, I would not be here. In fact, the first time I saw a young picture of her daughter – my great-grandmother Sarah Florence – I was surprised to see how much I look like her. I like that.

But…I know so little about my 2nd great-grandmother…. What was she like? What were her hopes and dreams? What color were her eyes? Her hair? Did she have a nice smile? Did she have a favorite recipe or recipes? Did she like to sing? Was she artistic? Was she practical and quiet? Was she fun loving? What caused her death at such a young age? Was the land she is buried on the family farm? How did my great-great grandfather manage alone for several years with five little children?

The stories I wish I knew make me thoughtful….

Reba’s Place

Driving home on U.S. highway 75 after a quick getaway to Dallas this past weekend, my friends and I spotted a billboard for “Reba’s Place”, a restaurant in Atoka, Oklahoma…. Our little group loves road trips and exploring and discovering new places….so by the time we passed a second billboard advertising the restaurant we were thinking….why not?

The restaurant at 301 East Court Street sits only a few blocks off the main highway, and it is definitely a stop worth making…

The little town of Atoka (population 2,953) is the county seat of Atoka County. The town was founded in the 1850’s, and by 1858, the famous Butterfield stage line was carrying mail and passengers to the town. By 1868, an Atoka post office was established. Atoka thrived and grew….

Fast forward to the early 2000’s…. Atoka’s population was no longer steadily growing. In fact, it experienced periods of decline. Beautiful old downtown buildings were falling into disrepair.

Carol Ervin, the economic director for the town, decided a plan must be formulated to redevelop the area. Every year, eight million vehicles passed through the edge of the little town on U.S. highway 75….but unfortunately they were not stopping in Atoka. Carol and her team rolled up their sleeves and went to work….brainstorming, researching, and thinking of ways to revitalize Atoka…and in time, one idea in particular stood out.

They decided to call on one of Atoka County’s most well-known natives, country music singer and actress Reba McEntire, to pitch their idea…

Reba grew up in Atoka County. She was raised on her parents’ ranch in Chockie, an unincorporated community just north of Atoka. When her mother, Jackie, became ill with cancer, Reba came home to help with her care. Mrs. McEntire passed away in March of 2020 – and after that loss, Reba told her sister Susie that she was interested in a legacy project – something that would make their parents proud…..and shortly thereafter she received a call from Carol Ervin.

Carol and her team wanted to partner with Reba, on a big dream project….and Reba was interested. However, when she found out that the project was a restaurant she had some doubts. Knowing that restaurants are tough business and many fail, Reba expressed her concerns…but Carol and her team persisted – and Reba agreed to give it a try.

The building they had chosen, a 15,000 square foot 3-story former Masonic Lodge, was over 100 years old. Reba came to see the proposed building, and with fingers crossed the Atoka committee took her on a tour. Things didn’t go well however – in fact, while they were there a frighteningly dangerous situation occurred… The group explored the building – climbing the stairs from the first floor to the second, then the second to the third. While they were on the third floor, the old staircase they had just climbed suddenly collapsed, crashing down to the ground floor and leaving everyone trapped. Thankfully, the Atoka fire department arrived quickly, set up a very long ladder, and got everyone out safely. The crisis was averted – and the renovations began. (Check out this short video of the rescue!)

Reba’s place officially opened on January 27, 2023, a 50-50 collaboration between Reba herself and the Choctaw Nation. Just over two years later it is going strong – serving over 300,000 guests from all over the U.S. and other countries in its first two years. They are expecting this year to be their busiest yet. One Atoka resident, Donna Hardman, said that since Reba’s Place opened, other businesses have picked up in customers and more businesses have moved into town. Carol Ervin originally thought it would take 10 to 12 years to make downtown Atoka and the city more lively, but once Reba McEntire entered the picture, the plan then turned into a two year success.

Entering the restaurant is fun! There are costumes and personal items of Reba McEntire throughout the building. A chair copied from “The Voice” television show is there for photo ops. Inside the restaurant, giant video screens play clips from the Reba show, as well as fun interviews, video shoots, and more. A small stage features live music while you eat.

The service is great and the menus have lots of good options. All of the beef is supplied locally by the Choctaw Nation’s beef program. At the end of the meal, there is a special treat that’s REALLY good…..but I will leave that as a surprise in case you visit. 🙂

The first two floors are restaurant space. The third floor (which you can reach by climbing the sturdily repaired staircase or by elevator) is not a dining area, but it is incredibly special. First of all, there is a nice gift shop with lots of fun things to browse like t-shirts, caps, music, Lodge cookware, candies, soaps, housewares and books (including a book from Reba called “Not That Fancy: Simple Lessons on Living, Loving, Eating, and Dusting Off Your Boots”). There are also unique items like a fold-up portable “suitcase” barbecue grill, unique gift ideas, and these really cute metal lunch boxes. (I was tempted to buy one!)

In a large corner of the upstairs space, there are beautiful big windows, several comfy couches and chairs, and a huge library of books you can settle in to relax and read if you like. This area, called “Jac’s Library” is a tribute to Reba’s mother, Jacqueline, who was an avid reader. Reba and her sister Susie spent months going through their mother’s things after her passing and decided something special must be done with her massive book collection. Many of Mrs. McEntire’s books are now shelved in “Jac’s Library” for visitors to sit, relax, read, and enjoy. (Just be respectful, and put them back!)

Take the time to visit if you’re traveling highway 75! I think you’ll be really glad you did!

Want to learn more?

Click here for an interesting interview with Reba about the restaurant.

Click here for a wonderful article from the New York Times.

Click here to see a short clip of Reba’s mother, Jacqueline, when she had a cameo appearance on the Reba show back in 2002. <3 Don’t miss this one! 🙂

Sources:

https://www.kxii.com/2025/02/11/rebas-place-effect-how-city-atoka-is-revitalizing-downtown/

https://www.oklahomatoday.com/food/the-queen-s-court

https://www.koco.com/article/oklahoma-atoka-reba-mcentire-restaurant-rescue/45770435

The Garrison Studio – An Arkansas Treasure

A few years ago, I was spending a lot of my time on the 7th floor of UAMS hospital in Little Rock. My mother was there for treatment, and we were in the hospital off and on that year for visits lasting several weeks at a time. Mother and I would go for walks a couple of times every day to get out of her hospital room for a bit and to get a little exercise. The hospital hallway made a big loop around the floor. It was perfect for walking! There were beautiful paintings and framed photography hung along the corridors, giving us and the other patients something to see and talk about as we walked along. One painting in particular always caught both of our eyes. It was a standout favorite for both of us. The colors and use of light were so rich and serene and beautiful. We connected with it. It provided a moment of respite, of escape, of peaceful joy during a challenging situation every time we saw it.

As we journeyed through that year, that same painting continued to be a shared spot of joy for us whenever we were back in the hospital. I made a note of the artist’s name, Bill Garrison, telling myself I would research information about him one day when I had more time….I knew then that I would love to have one of his paintings someday…but didn’t really imagine that it would ever be possible for me….

Fast forward now to last year… When I finally did sit down to research this talented artist, I happily discovered that he lives in Russellville, Arkansas. I decided to visit the Bill Garrison gallery last summer, so I made the drive down Arkansas’ scenic highway 7 to the studio showcasing the works of both he and his wife, Gloria (also a wonderful artist!). I had no idea what to expect – and I was a bit nervous. I can sometimes feel timid when meeting new people and often feel awkward in unfamiliar situations and places.

Visiting a gallery was definitely not a familiar routine for me, and as I turned off the highway and drove down their lane, my confidence waned a bit. There was no need for worry, however. When I pulled up, Mr. and Mrs. Garrison came out to greet me like old friends. I instantly felt welcome and comfortable. We chatted for a few minutes then I walked into their studio…..and I was blown away. A large number of incredibly beautiful art was displayed all around the room, all beautifully framed by Mr. Garrison himself.

It was soon obvious that Arkansas is definitely Mr. Garrison’s inspiration. There were lovely scenes painted in locations from around the state all over the walls. Whenever I would exclaim about the beauty of a painting, Mr. Garrison would delightedly tell me exactly where he had found that particular scene to paint. In fact, he showed me that he always puts the GPS map coordinates on the back of each of his works to record where they were completed. I can’t even adequately describe how beautiful they all were…and since I love Arkansas, most every painting was a lovely celebration of my home state.

I knew I wanted to buy a painting – but the decision of which one was difficult! Did I want the beautiful picture of a field painted in Conway County – the county of my birth? Another tempting choice was a landscape of cool greens and blues showing a beautiful stream with trees shading the water and rocks. Another painting displayed a beautifully shaded, peaceful dirt road with spots of sunlight peaking through the canopy of trees. I truly loved them ALL. Mr. Garrison’s art is an Arkansas treasure!

I finally happily settled on a gorgeous work called “Spadra Autumn”. As the title suggests, it features beautiful fall colors and the light in the painting is just breathtaking. I couldn’t wait to get it home and hang it on my wall….and I have enjoyed it every day since. I find myself often taking the time to pause and study it a bit whenever I walk by. It brings me such joy!

Several weeks after buying the painting, I decided to drive down and see if I could locate the spot of this beautiful scene using Mr. Garrison’s GPS coordinates. According to the map, I was looking for a spot just north of Clarksville on a little county road. I was looking from side to side as I drove along slowly, knowing I must be getting close….As I was driving across a small low water bridge I looked to my left….and there was the scene from my painting. The colors were different, because it wasn’t fall yet, but it was still so recognizable and looked so instantly familiar to me. It made me smile – and it made my painting all the more meaningful and enjoyable to see where it had originated.

If you love art…..or Arkansas….or beauty….I highly recommend a trip to the Garrison “Treehouse Studios” Gallery in Russellville. Call for an appointment and head down to see these true Arkansas treasures. I look forward to going back someday myself!

Contact Information:

Treehouse Studios

https://www.facebook.com/BillGarrisonFineArt

Bill Garrison Fine Art

https://www.facebook.com/BillGarrisonFineArt/

Treehouse Studios Website

http://pages.suddenlink.net/billandgloria/index.htm

Autumn Leaves

Autumn Leaves

Dancing, floating, spinning, twirling…

Crunching, sparkling, swaying, turning…

Joy.

Leaves are falling from the trees steadily in the Ozarks right now. Yards and sidewalks look as if they are covered with brilliant confetti… The leaves skitter and slide and dance about as the breezes come and go – and the landscapes have taken on a warm, cozy glow.

Some trees are still green, others are displaying their autumn brilliance, and a few have already shed their leaves completely in exchange for their crisp, stark winter attire.

There are joys to be found in the changing of seasons – brilliant beauty to be searched for and seen….and if we embrace it – there is also childlike fun.

Walking down a sidewalk on a day such as this – do you…

  • carefully walk around the leaves keeping the dust off your shoes?
  • walk by them without even paying attention?
  • shyly or quietly walk through them, celebrating them just a bit but hoping no one will see?
  • Or….embrace the moment and happily and intentionally crunch, crunch, crunch through the leaves taking a moment to celebrate the noises they make and the feel of them crackling beneath your shoes?
  • Or perhaps – drag your feet happily – kicking up the leaves with a flourish on each step – not caring who sees you in your own little celebration of autumn fun?

I vote for the celebrations of choices “d” and “e” myself. Who says you’re only young once? Have fun and celebrate! Whatever you do – find your joy!

Let’s crunch some leaves! 🙂 Dare ya! 😊

The Privilege of Prayer

Southern Sideboards cover

I said a little prayer for Mrs. Hunter Gates and her family this week. I guess that’s a little strange because I’ve never met Mrs. Gates, never spoken with her, and in truth I know almost nothing about her. In fact, I am not even certain that she is still living…

Okay, let me back up a bit…

I really enjoy cooking, and I like trying new recipes. It’s popular today to find recipes through internet searches – and I know that can provide a real convenience … .but for me, I much prefer tried and true recipes when I can….recipes that are shared from people – family, friends, or even strangers. Recipes that are handed down through generations – that have traveled with families as they moved about, that have been saved carefully because they are important. The connections these recipes provide make preparing and enjoying meals all the more significant and special. For example – baking a Mexican Chicken casserole using my Mam-ma’s recipe adds a whole new dimension to the cooking experience….connecting me to her, to all the times she baked and served and enjoyed that same casserole to dear family and friends…connecting me to wonderful, loving memories. I can close my eyes and be transported in my mind to her kitchen – smelling the wonderful smells and feeling the love that she shared.

Mexican Chicken Casserole

Preparing my “Creamy Tacos” recipe given to me by my mentor teacher, Marti Hancock, early in my teaching career connects me to her…..and to my teaching team at Branson Cedar Ridge….and to all the wonderful memories of my students during those years when I was learning the craft of my profession.

Creamy tacos

When I make baked eggs for breakfast, a unique and delicious recipe from my cousin Nicki Jean, I am reminded of all the Beeson quail breakfasts on Christmas mornings in Hattieville through the years – the first place I ever tried baked eggs…and it makes me smile and be thankful for those wonderful times.

baked eggs

When I travel, I often search for a local cookbook to bring home as a memento of the place I have visited. Each region of the country has such unique food preferences, cooking styles, and culture. I especially like church cookbooks or junior league cookbooks….because the recipes in these are carefully selected by folks who have taken great pride in preparing unique and delicious dishes for family and friends. The recipes they have chosen to be printed are some that they consider their best….and they are sharing them to bring joy to others.

When I visited Biloxi and Jackson, Mississippi many years ago (2008) for a t-ball tournament my nephew played in, I purchased a cookbook called “Southern Sideboards” which was organized and sold by the Junior League of Jackson, Mississippi. On page one, it states that it features “tested recipes”….and boy, they weren’t kidding. First published in 1978, the cookbook was in its 17th printing and was listed as a “Southern Living Hall of Fame” winner when I purchased it. Of all my cookbooks, it has become one of my very favorites through the years, because it’s so reliable! Every recipe I have prepared from this book has been so good.

Southern Sideboards Cookbook

This week, I tried a new one – “Wild Rice Quiche” by Mrs. Hunter Gates. I was looking for a new quiche recipe – and this one caught my eye because it was so unique…..and because I love wild rice. It was very easy to prepare, and it turned out to be delicious. I will make it again! (That’s the mark of a good recipe for me – will I make it again? If the answer is yes, that means it’s a winner!)

Okay….forgive me….back to the beginning. Whenever my sweet Mother prepared a recipe given to her by a friend or family member, she tried to always say a simple prayer for that person….and she taught me to do the same.

A great cook herself – Mother would often be asked for her recipes – and she would gladly share them. Many years ago, she began including a handwritten note at the end of each one.

“Please say a prayer for me when you make this recipe.”

It was a simple request – but such a very powerful one. Can I be honest? When I was younger, I was a little embarrassed when Mother started writing the little phrase on her recipe cards. I worried (too much!) about what people would think of it….thinking perhaps they would think it silly or inappropriate…

I’ve grown up – and I do not feel embarrassed of it anymore. Instead, I am very proud – and very grateful for her example and the lessons she taught me!

Please say a prayer for me...

In today’s world, social communication platforms, busy schedules, changing social norms, and even the media seem (in my opinion) sometimes bent on dividing us – on breaking down connections and in some ways even encouraging isolation.

Isn’t it much better when we enjoy, support, respect, and care about one another? More importantly, isn’t it a powerful and wonderful privilege and responsibility to pray for one another?

Many of us say a blessing over our meals, we pray for family and friends….and a lot of us say a prayer for strangers when we see an ambulance or emergency vehicle pass by. How fitting that we can also say a quick prayer for others when a trigger brings them to our mind….a trigger such as a recipe they have shared with us. I think it is actually a pretty great idea!

James 5:16

“Therefore, confess your sins to one another and pray for one another, that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous person has great power as it is working”

Ephesians 6:18

18 And pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests. With this in mind, be alert and always keep on praying for all the Lord’s people.

Beeson’s Grocery

Beeson's Grocery

For the first nine years of my life, I lived in the wonderful, cozy little community of Hattieville, Arkansas. Long before my time, Hattieville had boasted several businesses including a hotel, a school, a blacksmith shop, a livery, and more. However, when I was born in late ’60’s, the Hattieville I knew consisted of churches, a wonderful community building (the old school), the ball field, a post office…..and Beeson’s Grocery.

Beeson's Grocery

Much like the “Whistle Stop Cafe” in the old movie “Fried Green Tomatoes”, Beeson’s Grocery has been in many ways the heart of the town for over 100 years. The proud general store opened in 1892 and was purchased by my great-grandfather, Oscar Virgil Beeson a few years later. My great-granddad also purchased the house that sits beside the store, and made it his home. The adjoining properties became a treasured gathering place for family and friends through the years.

In the spring of 1951, while tending his garden located behind the store, my great-granddad suffered a heart attack and passed away – shocking his family and the community with the loss. From every story I have ever heard about him, he was a kind, intelligent, strong, and caring man. My Daddy and his brothers have told me many wonderful tales about their granddad – and I am grateful for those memories they shared with me…and honored to be his great-granddaughter. I know his death left a hole in the family.

Oscar Virgil Beeson, Sr.

But Beeson’s Grocery continued on…

His only son, Oscar Virgil “O.V.” Beeson, Jr., a former Marine, and his wife Bernie, a school teacher, settled into Hattieville to keep the family business alive. When I was a little girl growing up, going to the store was what you did in Hattieville. There was always someone to see and visit with….kids to play with….Coca-Colas out of the ice-cold chest cooler to drink, bologna or salami sandwiches to eat…and great stories to hear and enjoy. Like his father, O.V. was a kind and caring man. I’ve told the story before about the time when, as a first grader, I wrote a hot check at Beeson’s Grocery and loaded up on all kinds of treats. It’s pretty funny. Click here if you’re interested in that one. My uncle O.V. was a good man, and I loved him dearly.

Oscar Virgil "OV" Beeson, Jr.

When O.V. retired, his daughter Nicki Jean took over operations and ran the store for almost 30 years. Her sharp wit and fun personality brought even more charm and enjoyment to the grand old store.

Nicki Jean Beeson Mourot

The old wood stove near the back of the store was a place to pull up a chair and visit, eat a bite, or just sit and relax. It was warm and welcoming and homey and wonderful. For me, it was also special to know that family members I love, as well as many family members I never had the privilege of meeting because they were gone before I was born – had shopped and visited and laughed and eaten and gathered in that old store.

Beeson's Grocery

When I was nine, my parents and I moved away from Hattieville to northwest Arkansas because Daddy had gotten a new job. We always went back home to Hattieville several times a year to see family and friends, and sit at the store and visit…because even though it was a place to buy gas and groceries and sandwiches and snacks and supplies…it was actually so much more. It was a place that connected so many…a place that lingered pleasantly in the minds of anyone who has ever visited Hattieville…the place, in fact, that most people picture when the name Hattieville is mentioned.

When my cousin Nicki retired almost two years ago, the store was sold to new owners, Mike and LaDonna Bicanovsky who enthusiastically worked to expand and update the business to preserve the legacy and tradition of the store.

Beeson's Grocery

However, sometimes good things do come to an end.

Yesterday, I made the familiar drive to Hattieville to see Beeson’s Grocery one more time – because for the first time in over 100 years it has closed its doors. For me, it is a very painful loss….and I am hoping that someone will purchase the business and reopen it once more. For now though, this historic building sits silent and alone.

Famed poet Maya Angelou once said in an interview that spoken words are significant ….they have power and impact….and once they are spoken they “stick forever in the walls” .  I love that.  

The old walls at Beeson’s Grocery are full of so many rich stories and laughter and learning and love.   I am so grateful that I got to be a tiny thread in the beautiful tapestry of vast memories it holds.

Beeson's Grocery
Miss Bernie
Beeson's Grocery
Beeson's Grocery
Beeson's Grocery
Beeson's Grocery