do south magazine: mighty – april 2014
DESCRIPTION
Do South (formerly @Urban magazine) is a free, monthly lifestyle magazine focusing on the great state of Arkansas, primarily the NWA and River Valley areas.TRANSCRIPT
COCKTAILS IN THE GARDENThink about your garden in a different way with our feature on the cocktail garden. We'll show you which plants will add a little spice to your drink recipes.
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DO-GOODERAnimal lover, great neighbor, all around good guy. This month's Do-Gooder shows us all how leading a thoughtful life can spread joy and make the world a little brighter.
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FOR THE LOVE OF MUMSFlowers are blooming everywhere, even in the kitchen! We'll show you how to make cupcakes that are grand enough to give your mom on Mother's Day.
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LITTLE O' OPREYSpend an evening with some of the most talented musicians in Arkansas, and find out how you could take the stage at the Little O' Oprey.
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Subscribe to Do South! 12 issues per year for only
$20, within the contiguous United States. Subscribe
online at DoSouthMagazine.com, or mail check to
7030 Taylor Avenue, Suite 5, Fort Smith, AR 72916.
EDITOR-IN-CHIEFCatherine Frederick
MANAGING EDITORMarla Cantrell
CREATIVE DIRECTORJeromy Price
CONTRIBUTING WRITERSBrenda BaskinMarla CantrellMarcus CokerCatherine FrederickLiz HarmsRusty Henderson, DVMAnita PaddockKat RobinsonTiffany SelveyStoney Stamper
PHOTOGRAPHYMarcus CokerCatherine FrederickJeromy Price
PROOFREADERCharity Chambers
PUBLISHERRead Chair Publishing, LLC
FOLLOW US
ADVERTISING INFORMATIONCatherine [email protected]
EDITORIAL INFORMATIONMarla [email protected]
©2014 Read Chair Publishing, LLC. All rights reserved. The opinions contained in Do South are exclusively those of the writers and do not represent those of Read Chair Publishing, LLC. as a whole or its affiliates. Any correspondence to Do South or Read Chair Publishing, LLC., including photography becomes the property of Read Chair Publishing, LLC. Do South reserves the right to edit content and images.
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CONTENTS
D O S O U T H M AG A Z I N E
Speaking of sunshine and better weather, I’ve been wearing
flip-flops for three days straight! You talk about one happy girl.
The pool’s uncovered, the garden’s planned, and the outdoor
flower pots are bursting with color. All that’s left to do to start
planning our summer vacation, which will be here before you
know it! I may have a better idea of what to do next month when
we unveil tons of great ideas for things to do right here in our
home state.
In this issue we're taking you to the Delta, where the fishing is
great, the tamales are out of this world, and there are some of
the finest arts and crafts in the entire state. We're also bringing
you the story of one of the Delta's most beloved sons, Levon
Helm, and the mark he made on the world of music.
When we're finished there, we'll travel on to West Fork for a
live country music show that happens every Saturday night.
The Little O' Oprey is steeped in history, filled with joy, and has
some of the best entertainers in Arkansas.
Since warm weather is finally in the forecast, we're getting our
gardens ready. This month, we're focusing on plants you can
grow that can be used in those summer cocktails you'll be
making in a few months. We also have some extraordinary ways
to dye Easter eggs, and a cupcake recipe that's so gorgeous
you'll want to make them for your mom come Mother's Day.
All this, plus the story of a how a DIY-er is turning his sixty-
five-year-old house into an energy saving wonder, using solar
panels, geo-thermal energy, and a few simple tricks he came up
with all on his own.
So dig in! Read to your heart's content, and be sure to have a
happy Easter with your family. I'll certainly be enjoying my little
brood. Home-cooked food, too much candy, a whole lot of love.
Doesn't get much better than that.
To reserve this free space for your charitable non-profit organization, email: [email protected]
For those of you who haven’t been officially introduced, that
little fur ball with me in the photo is the beloved Jack Brewster.
He was my Christmas present from hubby last year. I never
could have imagined he’d bring such joy to our entire family
(even our other dog, Yoko) and an instant smile to all those who
meet him. Except our cat Frankie. Frankie still hates his guts.
It’s quite the menagerie around our house. A cat, two dogs,
tropical fish, a gerbil (free to a good home, anytime) — oh and
the kids. I’m just thankful the weather is improving and the dogs
and kiddos love to spend time outside in the sunshine.
letter from Catherine 05
Jessica M. had hot pink Mary–Janes strapped with bows, shining with real fake diamonds.
Never a hair out of place on the playground. She was a mannequin from Limited Too.
I had dirt on my skort and wood chips in my hair.
My jelly sandals were naked.
No bows adorned their fleshy skeleton.
The silver glitter marrow had gone dull–fossilized in clear PVC.
I needed cool shoes. STAT.
My safety scissors were scalpels.
I sliced the barrettes off two hair-bows.
They would not die in vain.
My fingers molted glue while I waited for my slippers to heal. To outshine Jessica M’s.
There is a reason cobblers don’t use Elmer’s.
Twelve Years later
I saw ballet flats on clearance,
Hanging on a bar alone.
Two pleather bows stitched firmly on the toes,
A real fake diamond in the center.
My hot pink Mary–Janes.
Twelve Years Ago WORDS Liz Harms
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D O S O U T H M AG A Z I N E
4915 S. Zero StreetFort Smith, AR479.649.4915
jandbsupply.com
Brent JonesVice President
J&B Supply
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D O S O U T H M AG A Z I N E
About J&B Supply J&B Supply is a forty-six-year-old, locally owned
family company in which a major portion of our
employees have ten, twenty, or even thirty years
in the business. Our family culture is a major
asset when it comes to customer service. Our
sales personnel are experienced, and they care
for their customers in a way you can’t find in large
corporations. A large part of J&B’s business is done
with plumbing, electrical, and HVAC contractors,
but we also sell to homeowners. We have an
8,500 square foot showroom full of lighting and
plumbing fixtures from some of the top names in the
industry. Our showroom professionals can help with
your plumbing or lighting needs, whether you’re
remodeling or building a new home!
Locations in: Bentonville, Broken Arrow, Fort Smith,
Little Rock, Russellville, Sherwood, and Springdale.
Favorite spot in Arkansas? A fall Saturday afternoon at Razorback Stadium watching the Hogs.
If you could go back in time, what year would it be? 2011, my senior year of college. Back before I knew what the “real world” was.
Who helped make you who you are today? I have to give this one to my mom and dad. Without their guidance, there’s no telling where I would be today.
Nicest thing anyone has ever done for you? The investment my parents made for me to get through college and grad school.
Favorite food from your childhood? Geno’s Pizza.
Last road trip? Dallas, for my girlfriend’s birthday.
Best Easter memory? Spending Easter in Hawaii. There’s nothing like the beach on Easter.
Do you have a nickname? Beej. A buddy made a word out of my initials and it has stuck ever since.
What’s on your playlist right now? At the moment I’m listening to a lot of country, particularly Eric Church.
Last movie you saw? American Hustle.
Last book you read? Good to Great by Jim Collins.
Favorite teacher? Mr. Pralle, sixth grade at First Lutheran. Never a dull moment in that class.
Best advice you’ve ever been given? When given the opportunity, shine like a brand new penny.
Most sentimental thing you own? I have little keepsakes saved from the past that are special to me. They range from pictures of loved ones I’ve lost, old cards I’ve received, or even tickets to various concerts. Just anything that reminds me of the good things in life.
Strangest place you’ve called the Hogs? At the pool in Puerto Vallarta.
Best part of your job? Growing up in a family business meant I was around the office quite a bit as a youngster. Growing up in this business meant that I had built strong relationships with the people I would work with in the future. These relationships made the transition into the workplace easy for me and they make my job enjoyable every day.
If you could go back and give your sixteen-year-old self advice, what would it be? Life flies by too fast. Make sure that you make the most out of every single day.
You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take.
3 things Brent can’t live without
— Wayne Gretsky
chapstick coffee sports
UPCLOSE&PERSONAL 09
D O S O U T H M AG A Z I N E
B L U M C M U L L I Nwords Marla CantrellImages courtesty Blu McMullin
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D O S O U T H M AG A Z I N E
Blu McMullin is the kind of neighbor you wish you had.
When winter hit with a fury, he cut and split firewood
for some of his neighbors. When snow fell, he rounded
up some of the neighborhood kids and went sledding. When a
nearby animal shelter reported their water buckets had frozen
and then burst during a bitter cold spell, it was Blu who started
calling around, quickly finding replacements.
The no-kill shelter is one of Blu’s favorite places on earth. “There
are about thirty dogs there, and a different volunteer comes out
every day to help,” Blu says. “I don’t do as much as they do. I just
take the dogs for walks, try to teach them
how to walk on a lead so that when people
come out to look at them they can see
they know how to walk, how to sit, how
not to jump up on them. I’m pretty good
at basic training. The fun part is when I can
let a group of them run free. I lead them
around like the Pied Piper. It’s a blast to
see these dogs rumble and tumble with
each other. I do such a small amount. It’s
the other volunteers that I admire.”
This deflecting attention from himself
is something Blu does throughout the
interview. He pulls a list of names and
phone numbers from a notebook and
hands it over. These people, he says, are
the real do-gooders, the kind of people worthy of having a story
written about them. What he does is simply pay attention to
what’s around him, to help when he can. But it’s in this paying
attention that all the good work happens. He does not turn
away when he sees a person in need, when he comes across an
animal in need.
His love of animals started early, in the years when he grew
up in Minnesota. He had horses then, kept at his grandparents’
place. He spent all the time he could there, learning their habits,
dreaming of the day he’d become a horse trainer. And he did
become a trainer, although he soon discovered that making
a career of it was an extremely hard thing to do. But then he
crossed paths with a gymnastics coach who trained Olympians,
and everything in Blu’s life changed. The coach invited Blu to be
part of his team, and soon he was helping train athletes such as
Kathy Johnson, who was named to the Olympic team in 1980
but didn’t compete because the U.S. boycotted the Moscow
Games that year. She returned to the Olympics in 1984 and won
the bronze and silver for her team.
By the mid-1980s life changed again. Blu moved to Fort Smith,
Arkansas, where he met his wife, Jan, a schoolteacher, and
eventually opened Flame Gymnastics. During those years, his
dream of a horse ranch faded. But when he sold the business he
started looking for a place on the outskirts of Fort Smith. That is
where he lives today, on twenty-five acres, with a flock of forty
chickens that follow him around and sometimes hop on his
head for a bird’s eye view of the ranch. He
has about a dozen horses, and a couple of
barn cats, one of which he found during a
bike ride. He heard the kitten mew, found
it abandoned near the road, then picked it
up and let the little bundle ride home on
his shoulder.
Blu is so connected with these animals
that he often finds himself knee-deep in
the duck pond, moving turtles to another
duck-free waterway so that they won’t eat
his little feathered friends.
The animals make Blu’s world a happy
place. “It’s very Zen-ish to have dogs and
cats and chickens and ducks and horses
and fish. You feed them and you look out there and everybody
is happy. We’ve had rescue horses here that people brought to
me because they didn’t have a place to keep them, and together
we took care of them. My wife Jan says if she came back as a
horse this is where she’d want to be.”
As Blu is talking, a big black dog trots by. “Wrangler was dropped
off here in 2005. He was hit by a car, and paralyzed from the
middle of his back down. He would drag himself around with
his front feet.” Blu smiles, all that heartbreak and victory
wrapped up in that one expression. “He’s just fine now,” he says.
"Absolutely fine."
Wrangler is just one of three rescue dogs that live on the farm.
They run amongst the chickens, but never think of harming one.
That too, is due to Blu’s diligent training, and it is an amazing
thing to see, the dogs running through a huddle of chickens, the
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D O S O U T H M AG A Z I N E
hens looking up, unimpressed and unafraid. Farther away a few
of the horses are lying down in the field. Others stand nearby,
watching. This is the way of horses, Blu says. They would never
all lie down at once. They understand that there is a time for
some of them to rest, and a time for the others to stand watch,
making sure all is well.
Blu’s life seems to reflect this overseeing. “There are some ladies
who don’t have husbands, who need things done, and I help
them out. My wife kids me that I have six wives. I sometimes
mow yards. I have a dump truck and I can level out yards, things
like that. Nothing extraordinary.”
Listing what he does seems to be incredibly difficult for Blu. He
stops often, he backtracks, and he gives up a story of a good
deed and then decides he doesn’t want it told. And finally, he
says, “There’s an old saying that says, 'The meaning of life is to
find your gift, and the purpose of life is to give it away.' It ruins
the whole thing if it’s all heralded. It’s the anonymity that brings
the real pleasure, when you’re the only one who knows. Part of
being spiritual is not just helping other people, but helping them
without recognition. There are thousands of people out there
doing good things. Someone helping an older woman who can
stay in her house and not go to a nursing home because someone
is helping with her yard. I know a person around here who uses
their own car to take people to doctor’s appointments.”
While he is saying this, a flock of hens ambles by. A rooster
crows, stops, crows again. Wrangler lounges under a tree in the
sun. The horses that were lying down rise now, and the other
horses take their places. Some rest and the others watch over
them. And at that moment all the world seems exactly the way
it ought to be.
Blu shakes his head, in awe of the good samaritan helping
others find their way to the doctor. He begins to talk about his
own mother, still in Minnesota, and the kind neighbors she has.
They stop by and check on her, they help her with the tasks she
needs done. Without them, his mom, in her late eighties, would
not continue to lead an independent life.
He thinks about them often, as he’s helping others here, and
they’re helping her. He sees how interconnected we all are,
each of us touching the lives of someone else, and how it all
comes full circle. How all kindnesses, great and small, fill this
earth with hope and love and so much promise it can all but
break your heart.
Nominate a Do-Gooder!Each month, Do South Magazine will feature the story of someone in our community who is making the world a better place. If you have someone you’d like to nominate for our Do-Gooder Award, email [email protected].
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D O S O U T H M AG A Z I N E
Bogie
Oscar
Jade
Julia
Elvis
Valentino
F
F
M
M
M
M
Give Them the Best Doggone Easter Ever.
Adopt a New Friend.
Charleston Dog Shelter
Visit the Charleston Dog Shelter on Facebook for more photos and complete descriptions of all their lovable dogs. If you’re ready to meet your new best friend, call for an appointment today.
Each month, Do South gives away this page to local and regional non-profit animal shelters. If you work with a shelter and would like to reserve this space, please email [email protected].
Charleston Dog Shelter | Charleston, AR 72933 | 479.965.3591 | Find us on Petfinder™ |
Donations are always needed and greatly appreciated.
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D O S O U T H M AG A Z I N E
When it storms, we often mistake our furry friend’s behavior as misbehaving. Pacing, hiding, chewing furniture, drooling, whining, and trembling are some clear indicators of a panicked animal.
The cause of this fear, while still unknown, can affect one pet and not another. Since the best behaviorists have yet to get their patients to talk, we can only guess at the true reasons behind these phobias.
Research suggests that the sight of lightning or the sound of thunder may incite the fear. Some believe that the sound actually hurts the animal’s sense of hearing. Still, there are some that blame a sudden drop in air pressure or even the electrical charge in the area associated with storms.
A paper by the American Animal Hospital Association suggests that herding and sporting breeds are genetically directed to reacting to sudden abnormal noises in their environment. Also, “rescued” breeds and shelter pets share a predisposition to this phobia, since they may have developed an increased sensitivity to anxiety.
The most important thing is to treat your animal gently when they’re afraid. However, don’t cuddle or reassure, since this could reinforce the behavior. Instead, stay calm and be sure to avoid eye contact. Provide a safe, familiar place where your pet can feel secure, like under the bed, or in their crate with their security blanket or favorite toy.
There are also recordings of thunderstorms that some believe help desensitize pets. Always consult a behaviorist before trying this method; however, results can be unpredictable.
ThunderShirts®, a garment with a series of flaps that Velcro® around your pet, are a holistic remedy. Although I was skeptical,
owners provided much positive feedback. It seems to help in all situations of increased anxiety. One advantage is that you can put your pup to bed with it on, calming your dog even when the storm arrives hours later. They also make the same type of shirts for our feline friends.
Finally, there are the old standby – tranquilizers. I have used assorted tranquilizers with varied results. The trick is to medicate your pet at least thirty minutes before a storm hits. This is often impossible and certainly not practical from March to June, due to the unpredictable nature of spring storms.
In summary, remember that your pet is terrified and it takes clues from you. Remain calm during stormy weather. Research the ThunderShirts®. I like them and recommend them to my patients. If drugs are your final choice, remember you must give them to your pet before the storm hits, and results are often hit or miss. Finally, be thankful that when your furry friend is under the bed hiding, it at least has the sense to get in out of the rain.
Have a question you’d like to see answered here? Email it to [email protected].
Information contained in this article should not be construed as specific medical advice for your pet. If you have a concern about your pet, contact your veterinarian.
Pet AnxietyTHUNDERSTORMS
Words Dr. Rusty Henderson, D.V.M. Eastside Animal Clinic, Fort Smith
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D O S O U T H M AG A Z I N E
April Designer Show House
Ozark Mountain Bike Festival XXVI
Super Heroes for Autism
20th Annual Wine & Roses Gala
April 2 – 30 // $12 Admission // 11am – 6pm Monday – Saturday, 1pm – 6pm Sunday
April 4 – 6 // Contact Devil’s Den State Park for times
April 5 // 6AM // See website for details
April 5 // 6:30PM // See website for details
Come see the creative works of local interior designers and decorators at the April Designer Show House. Project Compassion opens the doors of this beautiful home to showcase design talents, distinctive architecture, and beautiful lake views. The Show House will be open from April 2 – 30, and is located at 4 Berry Hill Road in Fort Smith.
Grab your bikes and hit the trails at Devil’s Den State Park! Enjoy an exciting weekend of mountain biking with the family. There’ll be guided rides for every skill level from little tikes to daredevils. All riders are required to wear a helmet. So gear up for brake-squealing fun at Devil’s Den.
Suit up and support a great cause! The Super Heroes for Autism fundraiser supports programs for children with autism in Arkansas and Oklahoma. Prizes will be given to the top finishers and best costumes. This event, which includes a 5K run and a 1Mile fun run / walk, will take place at Chaffee Crossing in Fort Smith.
Join the Reynolds Cancer Support House in celebrating their 20th Annual Wine & Roses fundraiser. The evening will feature music by Hollye Dickinson and Jonathan Karrant, a wine auction, gourmet food and more. Get your tickets now for an evening of entertainment and charity. The fundraiser will be held at the Reynolds Cancer Support House.
Fort Smith, AR // 479.783.2273 // 4 Berry Hill Road
West Fort, AR // 479.761.3325 // arkansasstateparks.com
Fort Smith, AR // 479.225.0758 // active.com/fort-smith-ar/
Fort Smith, AR // 479.782.6302 // reynoldscancersupporthouse.org
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D O S O U T H M AG A Z I N E
Charleston Music Fest
Chaffee Crossing Spring Festival
Reveal the Teal
An Evening at the Gallery
April 5 // 3pm – 11PM // $10 per person // 15 & Under Free
April 12 // 12PM – 5PM // see website for details
April 23 // 11AM // FREE ( RSVP required )
April 26 // 4PM – 8Pm // $20
Head on over to the Charleston Fairgrounds for a day of music, food, and fun! There will be live music throughout the day, activities and entertainment for the kids, games and raffles. There's also a horseshoe tournament planed for earlier in the day. Don't miss this day of festivities at the Charleston Fairgrounds.
Get ready for a rockin' festival at Chaffee Crossing. Elvis look-a-like contest, beer garden, classic cars, helicopter rides, BBQ cook-off, live music, raffles, poodle skirt contest, and hula hoop contest. There are costs for some items, admission is free.
Join the Arkansas Ovarian Cancer Coalition in striving to make a difference in ovarian cancer awareness and education. This free seminar will be held at the Fort Smith Convention Center and will provide registered attendees with lunch and powerful information to help spread the word.
Take part in an evening of wine tastings from Oklahoma wineries, view exceptional gallery art, and sample a variety of culinary specialties from local vendors at The Poteau Rotary Wine & Arts Festival. There will also be live performing arts and a silent auction. Festivities will be held in the Donald W. Reynolds Center in Poteau.
Charleston, AR // 479.965.6442 // facebook.com/cmf4ach
Fort Smith, AR // 479.434.6774 // chaffeecrossing.com
Fort Smith, AR // 479.883.3379 // ARVOCC.com
Poteau, OK // 918.658.5334 // poteaurotary.org
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entertainment 17
D O S O U T H M AG A Z I N E
Author Laura Lippman has twenty mystery novels under
her belt, but I’ve only recently discovered her, and that
was after listening to an interview on the radio, where
I was impressed by how smart she is.
Lippman is a native of Baltimore, where all her novels are set.
The city is as much a character in her books as the fictional
characters she writes about. She shares this love of all things
Baltimore — crab cakes, the Enoch Pratt Library, Edgar Allan Poe
— with crime writers like Dennis Lehane and those talented
creators of the excellent HBO series, The Wire.
As a former reporter for the Baltimore Sun, Lippman has the nose
for a good story. When she read about Julius Salsbury, the head
of a gambling operation in Baltimore who disappeared in the
1970s, leaving behind a wife, three daughters, and a mistress,
she realized she should use that true story as a blueprint for a
mystery novel.
In After I’m Gone, we meet Felix Brewer, a flamboyant man who
marries a beautiful woman named Bambi. He showers his wife
and their three daughters with beautiful clothes, a beautiful
home — everything his unlawfully successful business schemes
can provide. Felix also has an eye for other women, and even
though Bambi suspects, she puts up with it because she believes
Felix loves her best.
The first chapter begins on the Fourth of July, 1976, when Felix
kisses his wife and daughters goodbye and flees Baltimore
shortly before he was supposed to begin serving a prison
sentence. He escapes by hiding in a horse trailer driven by his
mistress to an abandoned airfield where he is flown by private
plane to his hideout.
The novel then jumps to 2012, and we meet Sandy Sanchez, a
retired Baltimore detective who is trying to solve a cold case
involving the murder of the mistress who helped Felix escape.
The book then shifts into the lives of Bambi, a now aging beauty,
and her three grown daughters who were all affected by the
desertion of their husband and father. Who killed the mistress?
And why?
The answer is found by going forward and backward in time,
uncovering clues, and finally solving the mystery of the dead
mistress and exactly where Felix had been hiding out after
fleeing Baltimore. The chapters have dates on them, which
helps since the story is not told in chronological order. And
Lippman is an expert in unfolding a story, adding one piece of
the puzzle at a time. That’s what makes this mystery such an
entertaining read, and it’s why she has such a loyal readership.
She gives her audience exactly what they want, and she keeps
us guessing until the very end.
By Laura LippmanWilliam Morrow: $2699
After I'm Gone
review Anita Paddock
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D O S O U T H M AG A Z I N E
The Turnpike Troubadours, sons of Oklahoma, writers
of some of the best country music around, aspired to
play at Cain's Ballroom in Tulsa, and when they finally
did they knew they'd arrived. Cain's is where Bob Wells once
played, where Hank Williams played, and for a band from the
Sooner State it meant everything to walk onto that stage.
The group plays what's known as Red Dirt music – soulful,
independent music named for the red clay earth of Oklahoma,
and of course, Texas. The Turnpike in their name comes from
the Indian Turnpike they've traveled since birth. And their
music, filled with fiddles, guitar, bass, drums, harmonicas and
mandolins is as soul shaking as any music I've heard lately.
Their newest album, Goodbye Normal Street, is set in the land we
know. The town of De Queen and Southwest Arkansas show up
on "Good Lord Lorrie." Oklahoma City makes an appearance on
"Gin, Smoke & Lies," and the CD was produced at 115 Studios
in Norman, Oklahoma.
The lyrics, written mostly by frontman Evan Felker, knock you
to your knees. "Empty As A Drum" is filled with great lines like,
"Well 2 old red-nosed whiskey drunks were talking politics. It
was time to hit the bricks. It was time for me to go." In it a man is
waiting, minute by minute for the girl he loves to show up, and
she's late, crazy late, and it's driving him a little nuts. But she
does show up, in the nick of time.
On "Before The Devil Knows We're Dead," Evan writes what
could be considered a short story in song. He said he read a
great deal of short stories while writing this album, and that
maybe some of that influenced his work. In this song he tells
the story of an eighty-year-old grandfather, hard drinking, hard
working, keeping up with the twenty-somethings. The old man
bales hay with his younger counterparts and then jumps to
oblivion from a cliff into the river below. The storyteller then
sings, "Well I'm 28 years old now. I was born in '84. And I've
been as free as I can be and I won't ask for anymore. So let the
fiddle player hoedown after I've drawn my last breath. But tell
everyone I know that I loved them all to death."
That's gorgeous writing. And it continues throughout this album,
showing up in lines like "You've got more than a tattoo up your
sleeve," and "You wrecked it all, you wrecked my heart, you
wrecked our house and you wrecked my car."
There are songs about war, about those who signed up hoping
for a tech school degree and ended up writing home from
beneath the big Afghan moon. There are songs about cheating,
and even a lucky rooster shows up. "A rooster he's got twenty
gals. He's happy as a lark. He wakes them up in the morning
time. Put them all to bed at dark."
There is a rugged quality to the vocals, rough and raw and
true. The accompaniment is perfect, filled with sounds of the
South, nights on the porch listening to the guitar, to the fiddle,
to a song of lost love, of people trying to find their way, to bad
choices that break people apart and the grace that draws them
back together again.
The Turnpike Troubadours is a band to follow, and if you're
interested in hearing them live, they'll be playing at the
Arkansas Wakarusa Music Festival on June 7. In the meantime,
buy this album. You'll be glad you did.
Turnpike Troubadours: $10Goodbye Normal Street
review Marla Cantrell
I Rate It
20 entertainment
D O S O U T H M AG A Z I N E
Easter Eggs To Dye ForDIY Catherine FrederickIMAGES Jeromy Price
Dye eggs naturally with foods and spices (dyeing agents) from your pantry. Choose your dyeing agent. Place in saucepan with 2 cups water. If using more water, increase amount of dyeing agent. Bring mixture to a boil, reduce heat, and simmer for 30 minutes. Strain dye through paper towels or coffee filter into container. Submerge hard-boiled eggs in cooled dye, let soak for as little as 5 seconds or as long as overnight, depending on the depth of color you desire. Remove eggs with spoon, place on paper towels or rack to dry. Canned dyeing agents produce paler colors. Boiling the agent with 1 teaspoon vinegar produces more vibrant colors. The following dyeing agents were used for the eggs featured here: canned blueberries, canned cherries, paprika, purple grape juice, chili powder, dill seeds, coffee, red wine, yellow onion skins, pomegranate juice, pickled beet juice, turmeric, and red onion skins.
Find a detailed chart of color options and coordinating ingredients at DoSouthMagazine.com/NaturalEggs.
Natural Beauty
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D O S O U T H M AG A Z I N E
For natural cream and tan shades, submerge hard-boiled egg in a mug of lukewarm Earl Gray tea. For blue shades, add hard-boiled egg to a mixture of 1 cup white vinegar, 1 cup water, 2 drops blue food coloring and 1 drop green food coloring. Vary the shades by varying the amount of time the egg is left in the liquid — lighter shades, less time, deeper shades, longer time. Dry eggs on wire rack. Dilute 1 tablespoon brown acrylic paint in 1 tablespoon water. Dip clean, dry toothbrush in paint mixture. Hold toothbrush 2-3 inches from egg with bristles pointed at egg. Run finger along bristles, creating a spray of paint onto egg surface. Let dry 15 minutes. Rotate egg. Repeat paint process.
Speckled
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D O S O U T H M AG A Z I N E
Make baking soda paste by combining 1 tablespoon baking soda, 2 teaspoons water, and a few drops food coloring. Place egg in a bowl or dish with sides. Using a paint brush, paint, or dab, the eggs in a few colors of baking soda paste. Next, drip a few drops of food coloring directly on the egg’s surface. Pour a small amount of white vinegar on top of the egg and watch the “volcanic eruption” take place! Repeat the steps until you have the desired effect, and colors, on the egg. Pat dry. You may wish to wear gloves for this process!
Combine 2/3 cup water and 1 packet Kool-Aid. Stir to dissolve. Submerge hard-boiled egg in mixture until desired color is reached. Less time for lighter colors, more time for deeper hues.
Find step by step photos and a color/ingredient chart for natural dyes on our website at DoSouthMagazine.com/lifestyle/diy.
Volcano
Kool-Eggs
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5 Stickers
5Character Band-Aids
5 Finger puppets
5 Lip gloss
5Bouncy balls
5Magic grow capsules
5Marbles
5A set of jacks
5Army men
5Hair ties
5 Earrings
5Necklaces
5Wind-up toys
5Rings
5Barrettes
5 Finger lights
5 Slime
5 Play Dough
5 Silly Putty
5 Temporary tattoos
5Glow bracelets
5Dollar bills
5Coins
5Whistles
5 Yo-yos
5A mini slinky
5 Jokes on sheets of paper
5 Fortunes
5 Plastic bugs
5Mini dinosaurs
5 Pictures of larger items (the larger gift is hidden in the house)
5Balloons
5 Tiny bubbles
5Mini nail polish
5Barbie accessories
5Rubber bracelets
5Hot Wheels
5Movie tickets
5Batting cage passes
5Rubber stamps
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D O S O U T H M AG A Z I N E
There are a lot of different types of gardens. We have formal
gardens, cottage gardens, medicinal gardens, the list goes on.
Perhaps one of the most fun garden themes is the cocktail
garden. While I would love to teach you how to grow vodka (in
the same way that I wish I could purchase bacon seeds), we must
rely on the liquor store to provide some of the ingredients, but
the most flavorful cocktail additions can be grown right outside
your own door.
In The Drunken Botanist, author Amy Stewart delves into
the botanical background of the world’s most famous adult
beverages. She explores the roots of alcohol, so to speak. It is
certainly fun and educational to learn how to purchase the best
products, but in my humble opinion the best part of this book is
its collection of recipes. In a world of high-fructose corn syrup
and cheap wines, The Drunken Botanist returns us
to civilized drinking, for the enjoyment of an artistic
beverage, rescuing us from what we may have
learned as young adults. We might call this up-and-
coming movement “farm to bar.”
Creating a cocktail garden is much like creating
any vegetable garden, except our focus is slightly
changed. Instead of growing the hardy foods that
send us to bed with full tummies, like carrots,
potatoes and fibrous greens, we focus on distinct
flavors, beautiful edible blooms and gentle essences.
When we discuss plants, there are a few important keywords
everyone should know. Perennial plants return every year.
These are varieties that are hardy to our environment and
will survive the winter. Annual plants live for one season only,
while conditions are favorable, often until the first freeze. Some
bushes and trees are not hardy to our area, that is, they will not
survive the winter. Some of these can be brought indoors to
overwinter, and placed back outside after the last freeze. While
I wouldn’t suggest having a lot of cold-sensitive trees, it’s fun
to have one or two, which make nice house plants in the winter.
{ HERBS }
We begin our exploration of cocktail varieties with herbs.
English thyme and lemon thyme are perennial herbs that pair
well with bright fruits, like citrus and berry flavors. Thyme is
best harvested fresh, so use it in summer-inspired drinks with
gin. Likewise, mint is in-season during the summer and should
be used fresh. With drinks like mint juleps and mojitos touting
this herb, there is no reason not to grow it. Did I mention it’s
easy to grow? It grows like a weed, literally, so keep its invasive
growth habit at bay and keep it in a container on the porch.
{ BLOOMS & LEAVES }
Sure herbs make beautiful garnishes, but is there any prettier
garnish than an actual bloom? Borage and nasturtium both
have edible blooms and leaves, making them lovely and safe
for garnishing. Not only are they pretty but both varieties are
highly desirable for our bee friends. As an added benefit, each
plant has tasty leaves. Young borage leaves can be
harvested for a plethora of recipes, while young
nasturtium leaves are a spicy addition to fresh salads.
{ VEGETABLES }
When you think about cocktail-related plants, you
probably don’t think about vegetables. Let’s change
that. Many popular and easy growing veggies
pair perfectly with liquor. I’m a firm believer that
everyone should grow cherry tomatoes, if for no
other reason than for snacks while enjoying the
outdoors, but as it turns out, they also pair well with vodka and
tequila. Hot peppers are equally easy to grow and make great
spicy cocktails; jalapeno-infused vodka, for example, makes an
extra spicy and extra tasty bloody mary. Use a few additional
pepper slices for garnish to impress your guests. When it comes
to cocktail vegetables, the Mexican sour gherkin wins the
“cutest veggie award.” These miniature cucumber-like fruits
make almost any drink exciting.
{ FRUITS }
We can’t talk cocktails without mentioning berries. Strawberries
and blueberries are popular ingredients but can be fussy to
grow. As an alternative, try juneberries. With a flavor similar to
blueberries, and an almond finish, juneberries can hold their
own as a cocktail ingredient. Freeze these sweet berries and add
garden 29
D O S O U T H M AG A Z I N E
to summer drinks as an alternative to ice. The delicate flavor
will pair well with most fruity drinks, and using frozen berries
to cool your drink will keep it from getting watered down. As
a garden plant, this bush is very low-maintenance, with birds
as the most common pest. They are tolerant of almost any soil,
very cold-hardy and appealing to the eye as they mature from
gentle blooms, to bright purple fruits.
I said that you shouldn’t grow too many frost-sensitive trees,
but everyone should have their own citrus. You can brag to
your friends that you grow lemons in Arkansas! If bragging isn’t
your style, then you can at least enjoy a margarita with the
satisfaction that you grew those tart limes yourself. Look for
dwarf citrus varieties to grow in containers. Meyer lemons are
among the most popular container fruits. Not a true lemon, the
Meyer is a cross between a lemon and orange, giving a sweet
and tart flavor. Once the nightly lows are above freezing, trees
can stay outside, just remember to bring them in before the first
frost. Try using Meyer lemons for a classic whiskey sour.
Classic Whiskey Sour1 ½ ounces Whiskey
¾ ounce Simple Syrup
1 ½ ounces Fresh Squeezed Lemon Juice
Ice Cubes
Combine ingredients in a cocktail shaker and
shake well. Strain into a glass and enjoy.
Perhaps the best thing about cocktail gardens is that they can
be grown in any space. Consider turning a boring flowerbed
into your new garden, devote a raised bed to a cocktail garden
or even grow your cocktail varieties in containers! Always use
high-quality garden soil amended with compost to keep your
plants healthy and happy.
30 garden
D O S O U T H M AG A Z I N E
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33
D O S O U T H M AG A Z I N E
WORDS Stoney StamperIMAGES courtesy Stoney and April Stamper
The Art of "Step" Parenting34 people
D O S O U T H M AG A Z I N E
Statistics show that one in two marriages end in divorce,
and that currently there are over 30-million children living
in a home with a step-parent, in the USA, alone. That’s a
lot of families, and a lot of confused little kids having to learn
to live with, and trust, someone who is not their “real” mom or
dad. It also makes for, in my case anyway, some very confused
step-parents.
First off, if you’re a step-parent, let me tip my hat to you, and
say thank you. You freakin’ deserve it. Knowing that there are
millions of others out there, losing their minds, struggling with
some of the same “you’re not my dad” issues that I was going
through daily, gave me a certain amount of confidence. It’s an
if-they-can-do-it, I-can-do-it kind of thing. I don’t think I’m any
better than anyone else, but I don’t think I am necessarily any
worse, either.
Abby and Emma are my beautiful “step” daughters. That’s what
the law calls them. I just call them my daughters. My girls.
They are no less my daughters than their little sister Gracee,
my biological daughter. I love them, and would do anything for
either one of them. However, it’s been a helluva long, screwy
ride to get where we are today. I'm a very capable person. I can
generally handle myself adequately, and with confidence, in
nearly any situation. Few things make me shake in my boots.
But THAT day, three years ago, well, that day I was as nervous as
A-Rod taking a drug test. I couldn’t sit still. I was up, then down,
walking around. A jittery mess. I was terrified. The gravity of the
situation, to me, was crushing. Afterwards, I realized that I was
nervous on many different levels.
First, April, this awesome, hot chick I really liked a lot, liked me
so much that after several months of dating, she wanted me to
meet her kids. That in itself made me a little shaky. Because she
was really hot. Oh, and she had never introduced a man to her
kids before. To me, that screams commitment, which made me
feel like there was a cable clamped around my esophagus. But
then, I began to think about other things. Like, OK, I really like
her. Love her, even (gulp). But what if her kids don’t like me? Will
she still want to date me? That’s heavy. I’d had a hard enough
time trying to get one woman to like me for any extended
period of time. Much less three! And, what if I didn’t like them?
I know that sounds a little harsh because they’re just little girls,
but let’s be honest, some people are “kid” people, and some
just aren’t. I never had been. Ever. So, the thought of really liking
her, and the possibility of these kids jacking everything up, was
a pretty legitimate fear. And, even though others may not admit
it, I know I’m not the only one who had ever felt that way.
And these two girls were quite different from one another.
They couldn’t be more opposite, in fact. First, there was Emma.
Oh, Emma. She had just turned seven years old when we met.
She’s a blonde, with bright blue eyes. She’s spirited and wild.
The next thing that will come out of her mouth, well your guess
is just as good as mine. I’d calculate that about sixty percent of
the actual words that come out of her mouth probably make
their way onto The Daddy Diaries. If you happen to have an
itch to write a daddy blog, well Emma is a friggin’ gold mine.
I have to write down the funny things she says, because she
says them so often, and I’ll forget them if I don’t. She’s also
outgoing, loving, and so easy to get to know. She’ll talk to
anyone and she’ll tell you all about herself in the first ten
minutes after you meet her. Not long after we met she’d sit
on my lap, give me a hug when I would leave, and when she
first told me she loved me I thought I might freak out. As far as
making me feel comfortable, she did great.
Then we’ve got Abby. She was ten years old and was a WAY
tougher nut to crack. She’s a brunette, with hazel eyes. She has
an excellent, dry sense of humor. She’s quiet, calm, and mature
for her age, and extremely laid back. Now, don’t get me wrong,
Abby and Emma
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D O S O U T H M AG A Z I N E
she’s completely capable of going off the rails of the crazy train,
but hey, she just turned thirteen. We’ll give her a pass. But, she’s
also very cautious. She and her mom have a unique relationship,
and when I first came along Abby was scared that I was going
to somehow affect that. She wasn’t necessarily mean to me, but
she was totally and completely indifferent to my existence. She
would act like I wasn’t in the room. She refused to look at me
and would only speak to me in muted, one syllable words, and
only if her mother made her. She made me so nervous.
It became my mission in life to make Abby like me. Almost
everyone likes me. Surely, I can make this girl like me. I tried
being sweet. Nope. Not even close. I tried being funny. Nope.
She’d go out of her way not to laugh. I tried buying her things, to
which she would say thank you, because she has good manners,
but nothing seemed to crack through her shell. For months I
tried, and hadn’t seemed to make any progress, whatsoever. It
really upset me, although I did my best to not let Abby know it.
April tried to make me feel better about it, but I was at a loss.
She said, “Just ignore her. She’ll come around eventually.” But
that was impossible. I couldn’t make myself ignore her. So, I just
kept trying.
And then one day, Abby came and sat down by me on the couch.
And then she told me a story of something funny that happened
at school.
And then she laughed about it, and said, “Isn’t that funny?”
And then one night she asked me if I’d take her to Sonic to get
her some ice cream.
And then she probably farted.
What I am getting at is that she began to trust me, a little, finally.
She realized that I wasn’t there to steal her mother away. Or to
steal her things, or kill her dog. She realized that I just genuinely
loved her mom, and that I also genuinely loved her. She realized
that my attitude towards her wasn’t an act, but was who I really
was, and how I really felt. I was there because I wanted to be.
Not because I had to be. And, finally, it worked!
So, if you’ve got some new step-kids, if you are slamming your
head against a wall or thinking about jumping off a bridge,
just hang in there. Just keep showing them that you’re there
for the long haul. Be nice to them. Try not to be too awkward
or uncomfortable, like I did, because that probably ain’t gonna
help a whole lot. But if I could only give you one solid piece of
advice, the most important thing that you can do by far is show
them that you really love their mother (or father). Once they see
that, and they believe it, I promise you, those kids will fall in
line, eventually. I know some of you will have a harder time than
others, but perseverance is the key.
Now, don’t get me wrong, after three years, we’re still a work in
progress. Some days I just want to scream. We have our days that we
all want to kill each other. But that’s just regular family, right?
Stoney Stamperis the author of the popular parenting blog, The Daddy Diaries. He and his wife April
have three daughters: Abby, Emma and Gracee. Originally from northeast Oklahoma,
the Stampers now live in Tyler, Texas. For your daily dose of The Daddy Diaries, visit
Stoney on Facebook or on his website, thedaddydiaries.net.
36 people
D O S O U T H M AG A Z I N E
On a Sebastian County road near Greenwood, on some of the
prettiest land in Arkansas, stands a rock house built in 1949. It
is a lovely building; the rock has been chiseled into even pieces
that make it look like the kind of dream house you might have
drawn as a child, and there's a massive tree so tall it blocks the
sun, standing like a sentry near the front door.
The land beyond, and the dairy barn that sits idle after years of
industry, were part of the reason Aaron and Sara Wirth fell in
love with this place. And so they bought it seven years ago and
began to remodel. Much of what drew them to the house — the
woodwork that covers the ornate archways, the now-vintage
light fixtures still in perfect condition, the knotty pine paneling,
the oak floors – remains. But the engine of this place has been
converted by Aaron, a do-it-yourselfer who has yet to say no to
a home improvement project.
It probably helps that Aaron, now thirty-five, was trained as a
mechanical engineer, once working at a plant that produced
Cesna aircraft. And it’s likely a plus that his day job is with
Cobblestone Homes, where he’s a partner. He loves the building
process, watching craftspeople start with a cleared piece of
land and create a new house fitted with the latest gadgets to
make life a little easier. But it was earlier, while he was living
in Wichita, that he found the charm of older spaces. There,
he remodeled his first place, a 1960s duplex. “My marriage
The DIY Green Guywords Marla Cantrellimages Jeromy Price
Aaron Wirth
38 people
D O S O U T H M AG A Z I N E
survived,” Aaron says, and then flashes his bright smile. “So, I
figured I’d been a success.” That first win is what helped him see
the potential of this house, and why he’s working so hard to turn
this sixty-five-year-old home into an energy superstar.
While he’s not arrived yet, he is well on his way. He’s switched
out the single-pane windows with their steel frames. “Before
we replaced them,” Aaron says, “we woke up one morning with
icicles on the inside of the panes.” Aaron shakes his head at
the memory. “Someday the old windows will end up in my
greenhouse, yet to be finished.”
Aaron opens the hatch that leads to the attic, flips on the light
so the eaves are in view. Well, not exactly the eaves, those are
not visible. Instead, insulation shows, covering the entire ceiling
space. “They had a local CV's grocery in town they were tearing
down. I went over there and they gave me a trailer load, literally.
So I insulated, with Sara’s help, the entire attic. I insulated all
along the roofline, the floor’s covered, all of it.”
The question, of course, was whether this way of covering
everything causes excess moisture in the house. Aaron says
it most certainly does not. “I put sensors in to make sure that
I wasn’t getting too much moisture. I’ve never had a water
problem and I’ve never had a moisture problem. ”
Aaron also tackled the heat and air unit, which usually accounts
for fifty percent of a homeowner’s energy consumption. He
bought a geo-thermal unit, which is an underground system.
There is a ground-source heat pump that cycles water through
the underground piping loop, and costs about $1 a day to heat
or cool a 2,000 square foot house. Aaron installed it in 2012.
His Christmas present that year was the use of an excavator. He
dug an 800 foot ditch in his backyard, three feet wide, seven
feet deep, to contain the piping.
“You walk around the outside of my house and you can’t tell
I even have heat and air in here,” he says. “My old, traditional
system ran at one speed, about 3,500 watts, the equivalent of
35 light bulbs. This system runs on two speeds and at its low
stage, even though it’s the same size unit, it will run at about
1,700 watts, almost half. Even at its high stage, I run about
1,000 watts less than the old unit.”
He’s done other things that aren’t exactly conventional. Like
his dryer vent, which he switches in the winter months to blow
heated air inside the house. Not something most of us would or
should try, since the humidity might overwhelm us. But Aaron’s
dryer is downstairs, below ground, where the original cellar
used to be. And he has a dehumidifier already in place.
Also downstairs is the master bedroom/bathroom/office. He
points to the bedroom floor. “I got down here, and I loved the
old concrete floor, so we left it, just stained it. You can see
where the old water heater was, and where the cans sat from
all the canning." He walks to the adjoining bathroom, which
was undisturbed earth when the remodel began. "I took a saw
and made a hole in the farthest wall, and I just started digging.
At first it was fun, but it got to be quite a job; I was up to my
shoulders in dirt.” Today, the results of his hard work show, in
the brand new bathroom that looks like a showplace.
Aaron steps into the wide shower and turns on the body dryer
he came up with. “I use this all the time. It heats up and blows
heated air. You can get dry this way. The floors are heated with
hot water that runs in a loop beneath the floor.”
The space looks like a high-end hotel. The addition added 500
square feet to the 1,500 square foot house, and gave Sara the
massive closet she’d been pining for.
As Aaron talks, the excitement builds. He is thrilled to be in
this place, where he conjures up ideas and sketches them out.
He has high-tech monitors he checks often. They show him his
energy consumption, humidity levels, everything he needs to
know to show him how his house is operating. His wife Sara is a
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D O S O U T H M AG A Z I N E
godsend, he says, always letting him tinker with this, alter that,
try out an idea that might seem a little fanciful for those of us
with lesser knowledge of how things work.
He tells the story while standing on his new deck. A pizza oven
rises behind him, Aaron’s first attempt at brick laying. “Thirty-
six pizzas down since the end of last year, and the first five I
ruined. I’ve gotten pretty darn good now, but the oven itself did
collapse after I first built it, and I had to start over.” Behind him
is a crank system that raises a wide screen TV from down below
when the Razorbacks are playing.
He rubs his neck, stretches, and then points to a fallow field
where twenty-five solar panels, each three feet by five feet,
glint in the midday sun. These panels are a joy for Aaron, and
he pulls out his electric bill, which averages $25 a month, and
hands it over. He points to the grid that shows the months when
he actually earned a credit instead of paying for electricity.
“I installed the solar panels myself about four years ago. I spent
in the low twenty-thousands, and they’ve even gone down
since then, and they’ve become more efficient. I did this when
Arkansas was doing its renewable energy program, and that
paid me about $12,000, and I got a federal tax credit. I ended
up with about $1,000 in it. But that doesn’t count my labor. It’s
a lot of work, but I enjoyed it. It probably provides sixty-five to
seventy percent of my energy.
“It was hard to put them in just because people would stop every
day to talk to me about solar energy. They face the south. And
here’s my good old Southern, Walmart engineering. I walked
the aisles of Walmart looking for a simple way to convert these
from north/south according to the season. And I found these
boat jacks and bought them and installed them at the base of
the panels. Four times a year I change their position with the
jacks, by hand cranking them: summer solstice, the equinoxes,
and the winter solstice.”
Beyond the solar section is a grove of 100 newly planted oak
trees he plans to place strategically when they grow a bit taller,
to block the sunniest parts of the land closest to his house.
“Landscaping is one of the easiest ways to bring down your
energy bill,” Aaron says.
Already there are some grand trees on this place. Aaron points
to scaffolding he’s installed near a towering walnut tree. He’s
got a tree house planned, one that will have heat and air and
every possible convenience. He smiles so wide his eyes squint
from the effort. “When I get that finished you’ll have to come
back. Now that will be something to see. The tree house will
have a basement, its own septic system, pretty cool stuff.”
Just then his daughter runs by, a streamer in her hand catching
the wind, and Aaron turns to her and the smile grows even
wider. “Such a great life,” he says, “out here, in the country, on
land I can basically do anything I want with.” He stops, looks
back toward the house where his wife and other two children
wait. “Such a great family.”
The sun is starting to wane and the wind is picking up. Aaron
puts his hand on the solar panels, he looks across his land, and
he seems lost in thought. Perhaps he’s considering his next
project, the next challenge, the next trick he’ll pull from his
sleeve that will make this place even more efficient, even closer
to his engineering heart.
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D O S O U T H M AG A Z I N E
It’s Saturday night in West Fork, Arkansas, and the doors to
the Little O’ Oprey have been open since 5:30pm. Teresa
is selling tickets, Andy is serving pie behind the snack bar,
and several of the regulars are marking their seats with pillows
and blankets. By 7:00, the lights go down and the house band
starts hopping. Before long, Jimmy is behind the keyboard
singing Whole Lotta Shakin’ Going On, and the audience is
singing with him. It’s unforgettable, toe-tapping music, music
that sweeps through you, music that makes you
feel right at home.
For the next three hours, the house band plays
traditional country, rock and roll, and gospel,
backing up a variety of performers that take turns
on stage. Each sings a few songs and then passes
the microphone to the next. There are a few bumps
along the way because none of it’s rehearsed, but
the occasional missed note or forgotten song lyric
is part of the charm that makes the entire evening
seem like hanging out on your front porch with a
group of your most talented friends.
“If we had a polished show like Branson or even
Eureka, it wouldn’t be the same,” says Jerry Roller,
who’s seventy-five and plays steel guitar. “They’ll
close during winter and practice three months,
and at a certain point in a song, the steel guitar
does a certain lick, and that’s what they have to
look forward to. If we had a show like that, and the
audience came three or four weeks and saw the
exact same show, they’d be gone. But we have a
variety — probably sixty or more acts.”
Jerry, who grew up in Fort Smith and started
playing the steel guitar when he was fifteen,
has been part of the band for twenty-four years. He says, “The
Oprey started in 1989 — twenty-five years ago. I came in one
night as a spectator and a guy knew me and said, ‘Hey, do you
have your guitar with you?’ and I said, ‘Yes.’ (This very guitar, by
the way.) And he said, ‘Our steel player quit last week. Would
you play?’ And I did. And I’ve been here ever since.”
Jerry’s wife, Carlene, is one of the show’s staple singers. Tonight
she sings Lord, I Hope This Day is Good by Don Williams, her voice
like a warm blanket on a cold night. The mood is almost sad, and
Jerry’s guitar seems to cry. But later, when another artist sings
Down at the Twist and Shout by Mary Chapin Carpenter, hands
are clapping and the five-piece band that includes a guitar, bass
guitar, drums, and a keyboard is absolutely soaring.
The band never uses a single sheet of music, and the set up
is always the same. The artist comes up on stage, requests a
song in a certain key, and the band just starts playing. Jerry
says, “If they do a song that’s not one of the real
current ones, I’m gonna know it. If I don’t, maybe
the keyboard player will know it. And sometimes
we bomb out, but we don’t worry if we mess up. Of
course, we don’t mess up on purpose.”
Since 1991, the Little O’ Oprey has been a
501(c)3 non-profit corporation. Their mission is
to both promote country music and fellowship
with the community. “We try to promote young
entertainers, but we have performers of all ages,”
says Roy Melton, who’s seventy-two and a member
and past-president of the board. “We have singers
come from Fort Smith, Tahlequah, and Tulsa. One
gal even comes from east Texas. To get on the list
of singers, we just ask that someone audition or be
recommended.”
The Little O’ Oprey takes place in a two-story
building that was built in 1886. Over the years,
the building has been home to a tavern, a grocery
store, a bank, and even a casket maker. Roy says,
“There’s a lot of history here. This whole block used
to be buildings, but they were all wood. At some
point, there was a fire, and this is the only one that
was left standing.”
In addition to being a board member, Roy is also the show’s
sound technician and emcee. He says, “Everyone pitches in to
make things work. The house band gets paid, and the folks that
do the tickets and snack table get paid, but no entertainer gets
paid. I volunteer to do sound, and we have people volunteer to
clean up. When things are slow, that’s kept us in business.”
Back on stage, Tommy Kemp is playing a rose-colored guitar. He
joined the band in 2008, and tonight he’s singing The Fireman.
It’s a song made famous by George Straight, but was actually
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D O S O U T H M AG A Z I N E
written by Tommy’s brother, Wayne Kemp, who was born in
Greenwood, Arkansas.
Listen to the folks at the Oprey talk and you’ll learn lots of cool
facts. Jerry’s played with Carrie Underwood, Jimmy Ritchie, the
keyboard player, has played with Barbara Fairchild. Joe Nichols,
who grew up in Rogers and is known for the country hit Tequila
Makes Her Clothes Fall Off, actually sang regularly at the Little O’
Oprey when he was in high school.
“There are so many good memories,” says Jeanne Simmons,
who’s sixty-four and known as the Queen of the Little O’ Oprey.
“I loved the early days because we struggled. Many times there
were more people to perform than there were people in the
audience. Back then you didn’t have to audition. But the funniest
thing was when a bluegrass performer named Bill Mounce
started back up on stage for an encore, and his false teeth
fell out on stage. Everybody was so tickled that we couldn’t
do anything for a few minutes and then Bill said, ‘I always did
wonder what my smile looked like, and there it is, right there.’”
Jeanne has been at the Oprey since the very beginning. She
says, “I lived out at Winslow on a chicken farm, and I came down
to West Fork to get a hamburger. Some people said, ‘They’re
gonna start a country music show in that old historical building.’
Well at that time, I was getting a divorce, and the band would
play their sad, old timey songs, and I’d sit in the back row and
cry. And I came to two or three shows before I decided to sing. I
thought, I’m going to do this for me. And it’s saved my life more
than once, during a lot of times when I might have folded. But I
had the Oprey and the music to look forward to every Saturday,
so I kept on going. After twenty-five years, you know that
everyone here is your friend.”
And that’s what’s beautiful about the Little O’ Oprey. Not only
is it a wonderful showcase of talent, but it’s also a home for the
people both on stage and in the audience. Jeanne says, “I think
people love the music, and they get the feeling people here are
also good-hearted people and really dedicated to the music. And
we’re just kind of like a family. We call it the Oprey family.”
The Little O’ Oprey takes place every Saturday at
7pm at 271 S. Campbell in West Fork, Arkansas.
Tickets are $9 for adults, $7 for seniors (55+), $4 for
children (4-11), and free for children 3 and under.
For more information, including a calendar
of entertainers, visit littleoprey.org or call
479.839.2992.
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D O S O U T H M AG A Z I N E
Just last month, while on a trip to Atlanta,
Kaci Singer considered what it would be like
to live in such a big place. Traffic everywhere,
noise that never stopped, throngs of people
hurrying. It was a little overwhelming for this
small town girl who loves the slow pace of
Fort Smith, Arkansas, the place she’s called
home for twenty-two of the twenty-five
years she’s been on this planet.
lovingFort Smith
words Marla Cantrellimage courtesy Kim Singer
Kaci Singer
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D O S O U T H M AG A Z I N E
While she was in Atlanta, she started up a conversation with
a man waiting for the same train as she was. He’d not been
to Arkansas, so she described it to him: the wide rivers, the
lush mountains, the sprawling trees that form canopies across
roadways. Finally, she narrowed down how her home felt in one
word: peaceful.
Kaci thought of the word “peaceful” again late that night in her
hotel when sleep was interrupted by the sounds of police cars
and ambulances and fire trucks. She didn’t relax until she was
back home, surrounded by the places she loves, close to the
people who make it home.
Two of those people are her parents: Matthew and Kim Singer.
Matthew is a veterinarian in Greenwood, and Kim is a well
known photographer. Kaci talks about what it was like to grow
up with the two of them guiding her. She watched them work
hard, and they cared deeply about what they did.
Her path, however, was not so easily found. She majored
in English at the University of Arkansas – Fort Smith. After
graduating in 2012, she thought about teaching, something her
parents thought she’d enjoy. But what they hadn’t factored in
was that she’d been watching them make their own way her
entire life, not working for anyone else. Teaching, while a noble
calling, was not for her.
What she did love was writing, particularly blogging, and so she
did that on her personal webpage. She’d write about what life
was like in Fort Smith. Sometimes she’d write about fashion. But
always she wrote. At the end of a long day, it’s what she looked
forward to.
It’s impossible to love the written word and not love paper.
Books, Kaci adored. But she also adored stationery, greeting
cards, wrapping paper. So she started doing her homework,
looking for products she thought others might like as well.
That’s what led her to Atlanta last month, to market, to stock her
new store, named Paperwerk, which will open on April 15 inside
Fort Smith’s BrickCity, a collective of small shops.
Kaci hopes one day to have her own storefront where she’ll
have more space to expand. As she’s saying this, she pulls a
sheath of papers from her bag. She has organized every product
she’ll carry, every contract, every vital part of running a business
into this one portable file. She smiles, talking about what’s still
ahead, what’s just over the horizon.
As for blogging, that’s evolving as well. Her focus used to be
her personal life but now she writes about her hometown. In
February of this year, she unveiled her new website, Follow
Me Fort Smith. On it, she writes about things like the UA-Fort
Smith baseball team winning three games in a row on a recent
weekend. She also writes about businesses in town, places small
enough to get to know you, to ask after your family, to remember
how you take your coffee, or what your favorite color is.
Since her venture began, her Follow Me Fort Smith Facebook
page has gained attention. Kaci smiles when she talks about
how her idea took off. She’d been following Courtney Kerr, a
Texas blogger, for quite some time, and she loved what she saw.
Courtney is a fashion expert who quit her career in retail to
blog. Since that time, she’s snagged a role on a Dallas morning
show, where she co-hosts with three other women.
And while Courtney writes about fashion, not hometown life
– her latest post is filled with photos from an afternoon she
spent with actress Sarah Jessica Parker – Kaci believes the
fundamentals of successful blogging will help her succeed.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get my own TV show,” Kaci says, and then
she laughs. “I’m not really after that. I just want to promote Fort
Smith, to get a lot of followers. That’s success to me.”
Kaci is dressed in jeans with cuffs rolled up far enough to show
off a pair of suede heels Sarah Jessica Parker would surely
swoon over. She looks as if she could easily take on a blog about
fashion, but that’s not where her heart lies. “I just like living in
a town where I wave at everybody when I drive around,” she
says, and then shrugs, as if that explains every reason she had
for starting her website.
It truly does. This land that she loves, this place she describes
to strangers as peaceful, is the only home she’s ever wanted.
Life here is slow and easy. Most everybody has a heart of gold.
That’s what she was trying to tell the man she met recently in
Atlanta. Kaci's learned early a lesson some of us never quite
grasp: loving where you live makes everything in your life so
much better, makes every day a little sweeter, and every year
that passes that much dearer.
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D O S O U T H M AG A Z I N E
LEVon HELm:As Down toEarth as Delta Dirt
words Brenda Baskin image courtesy Art Meripol
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D O S O U T H M AG A Z I N E
On April 27, 2012 — the day of Levon Helm’s funeral —
Arkansas Governor Mike Beebe ordered that all flags in the state
be lowered to half-staff. A cloud of nostalgic sadness hovered
over the music world when news of the singer’s death was
announced. Those who came of age in the sixties and seventies
had grown up listening to his music, and thanks to the award-
winning albums he recorded during the last decade of his life,
a new generation had begun listening as well. Here in Arkansas,
folks not only listened — they felt a kinship with him. Until his
dying day, Levon Helm was one of us.
He’s been called an American icon. Countless musicians
claimed he was the best drummer in the world, including the
late, great jazz drummer Buddy Rich. Drummers who sing are
a rarity, but Levon did it and did it well. He was ranked #91 by
Rolling Stone magazine in their 100 Greatest Singers of All Time
list. It probably amused the man who once stated, “I’m not in
love with listening to the sound of my own voice.”
A founding member of the 1960s group The Band, he helped
change the course of rock and roll history. No one had ever
played the way they did, or wrote tunes that diverged so much
from the usual radio fare. In regaling his band mates with
stories about the South, Levon inspired numerous songs, and
his distinctive vocals highlight some of their most memorable
ones, including “The Weight,” “The Night They Drove Old Dixie
Down,” and “Up On Cripple Creek.”
It wasn’t just Levon’s musical gifts that made an imprint on
the world. His high-beam smile, tenacious spirit and plain-
spoken honesty (delivered with an Arkansas twang) charmed a
generation, and made him a favorite son of his home state. While
some celebrities downplayed their Arkansas backgrounds, he
wore his like a badge of honor.
He was born Mark Lavon Helm in Elaine, Arkansas on May 26,
1940, the second of Nell and Diamond Helm’s four children. His
family called him Lavon (La-VON), though he’d later change it to
Levon (LEE-von), a concession to his Canadian band mates, who
were unable to properly pronounce it.
Shortly after his birth, the family moved to the nearby area
of Midway, in between Turkey Scratch and Marvell, along the
Mississippi Delta. Diamond Helm was a dirt farmer who worked
his land himself, with the help of his family and some hired
workers. As a child, Lavon served as water boy, pumping water
from the well and running it out to those who labored in the
blazing heat. Until he was ten, his family had no electricity,
but they knew how to have fun. Diamond and Nell instilled
in their children a love of music, and taught them that the
reward for a hard day’s work was an evening spent listening to
the Grand Ole Opry and the King Biscuit Time broadcasts on
a battery-powered radio. Nearby Helena was a stopping point
for traveling musicians, and Diamond took his son to see nearly
every minstrel show and concert that came through town. By
age six, Lavon had decided on a career in music. When he was
nine, Diamond bought him a guitar. At twelve, he rigged up a
washtub bass for his younger sister and the two performed
together as Lavon and Linda, once opening for Conway Twitty.
Helm became such a fixture at radio stations and clubs in
Helena that musicians let him come practice on their drums.
In high school, he formed a popular band called the Jungle Bush
Beaters, and after graduation, fellow Arkansan Ronnie Hawkins
recruited him to join his rockabilly group, the Hawks. In 1958,
the band traveled to Canada in Hawkins’ Chevy. Everyone soon
grew homesick and quit, but Ronnie and Levon stayed and hired
Canadian musicians to replace them.
In 1965, the band broke away from Hawkins, recording and
performing first as The Canadian Squires, then Levon and the
Hawks. Bob Dylan liked their sound, and hired them as his
backup band. He was experimenting, transitioning from folk
to electric rock, and audiences weren’t pleased. Levon got so
exasperated with their boos and heckling that he returned to
Arkansas. He played in clubs with assorted musicians, including
his cousins, the Cate Brothers. After two years of drifting, he
rejoined his Canadian band mates, who were living in a big
pink house in Woodstock, New York. Locals referred to them as
simply “the band,” a name the group officially adopted.
Many musicians say that The Band’s first album, Music From Big
Pink, was a revelation. Eric Clapton claimed, “It changed my life,
and it changed the course of American music.” For a while, four
Canadians and an Arkansan were among the most respected
rockers on the planet. But bad management, in-fighting and
other pitfalls of rock stardom broke them up. Their 1976 farewell
tour was the subject of the Martin Scorsese documentary, The
Last Waltz. It’s still acclaimed as a masterpiece, though Levon
hated the film.
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D O S O U T H M AG A Z I N E
After The Band split up, Levon put down roots in Woodstock,
which he said reminded him of the Ozarks while still allowing
him to stay in close proximity to his daughter and his fellow
musicians. In 1981, he married Sandra Dodd. He recorded
albums, performed with various artists, and in 1983 began
touring again with The Band (minus guitarist Robbie Robertson).
His easy-going style and Southern accent made him a natural
for films, and friend Tommy Lee Jones suggested him for the
part of Loretta Lynn’s father in Coal Miner’s Daughter, the first of
several movies and TV shows in which he appeared.
Mixed with his successes were setbacks. In 1986, while touring
with band members Richard Manuel, Garth Hudson and Rick
Danko, Manuel committed suicide. In the early nineties, Levon’s
home and studio were destroyed by fire. In 1998, he was
diagnosed with throat cancer, which left him unable to sing.
He faced a mountain of medical bills, bankruptcy loomed, and
foreclosure on his rebuilt residence seemed imminent (despite
their acclaim, he never received much money from his days with
The Band). Then, in 1999, band mate Rick Danko, one of his
closest friends, died in his sleep, a loss Levon grieved over for
the rest of his life.
It all might have crumbled a weaker man, but Levon’s
hardscrabble Delta upbringing had made him resilient. He got
well and regrouped, surrounding himself with family members,
friends and fellow musicians. Woodstock rallied around him. He
sweet-talked Barbara O’Brien, the local sheriff’s administrative
assistant, into becoming his manager (and in the process, one
of his best friends). They began holding “Midnight Rambles,”
Saturday night jams held in his three-story barn. The Rambles
were based on the traveling music shows of Levon’s childhood,
and they became legendary.
Visitors paid $100 a ticket and brought a covered dish for
the community potluck that accompanied each show. Almost
every Saturday night, 250 eager fans arrived to hear Levon
and his Midnight Ramble Band perform with some of music’s
greatest artists. Emmylou Harris, Steve Earle, Gillian Welch, Los
Lobos, Norah Jones, Jackson Browne, Sheryl Crow, Billy Bob
Thornton were among those who dropped by for impromptu
performances, which sometimes lasted eight hours. The
Rambles lifted Levon’s spirits, paid his medical bills, and helped
him keep the home he loved. They’re a tradition that continues
to this day, though tickets are now $150.
Levon’s lease on life was extended for a dozen years after
his cancer treatments ended, and he never seemed to take
it for granted. He exuded joy, in his music and his life. His
voice returned, now craggily beautiful and ingrained with the
sound of his Delta roots. His relationship with daughter Amy
deepened. A gifted musician/producer, her vocals enhanced
the Rambles, as well as the three Grammy-winning albums her
father recorded during his last five years. Levon also lived to
welcome his grandson, Lavon Henry Collins, into the world.
He was showered with honors and accolades, but seemed
unfazed by the attention. When The Band was inducted into
the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, he skipped the ceremony. He
was also a no-show for a Grammy Lifetime Achievement Award,
opting to stay home and play music with family and friends. And
few had more friends than Levon Helm. His name inspired Elton
John’s song, “Levon,” and is also the middle name of the pop-
star’s son. Bob Dylan, the Beatles, Steely Dan and members of
the Grateful Dead were all lifelong friends; so were the folks he
grew up with in Arkansas.
When he died on April 19, 2012, 2,000 fans came to his barn
to pay their respects. Two years later, his loved ones are still
mourning. Barbara O’Brien, who still manages his affairs,
says, “His passing has left a gaping hole in our lives. He’s
missed terribly and will never be replaced. A more honest and
benevolent man we’ll never meet.”
When those flags waved at half-staff on the day of his funeral,
everyone in the Natural State understood. Levon Helm showed the
world all that was best about Arkansas. In a way, he was Arkansas.
To learn more about the Midnight Rambles
(including samples of the music played there),
visit: levonhelm.com
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D O S O U T H M AG A Z I N E
u EAt
TamalesRhoda’s Famous Hot Tamales Rhoda Adams got her start in the early 1970s making pies in Lake Village. After the suggestion by a frequent pie buyer, she and her family started making and tying tamales, which they’d steam and sell throughout the community. Today, you might find Rhoda driving around town, pulling into parking lots and RV parks to sell those tamales, two dozen packed inside a coffee can. If you want to make sure you get your fill, head to Rhoda’s Famous Hot Tamales on St. mary’s Street. There you’ll also find sweet potato, pecan and meringue pies, along with daily lunch specials and some of the best fried chicken in southern
Arkansas. Just don’t wait for dinner – Rhoda’s closes up by 2 p.m.714 St. Mary’s Street, Lake Village 870.265.3108
Home Cookin’R.A. Pickens & Son Commissary
Some folks thought Laurie Black was out of her mind when she decided to open a restaurant inside the 100+-year-old R.A. Pickens and Son Commissary south of Dumas. But the local lunch crowd proves she was onto something. Known for fried pork chops, meatloaf and a unique squash dressing, Pickens Commissary offers daily lunch specials cooked just like they’d be at home – served up hot to your table. While you’re there, check out the last cotton bale sold
Between the furthest reaches of Bayou Bartholomew, the longest bayou in the world – and the wide expanse of the Mississippi River along the eastern border of Arkansas – lies the Lower Delta, a rural area rich in cultural and historical experiences. Here are some great places to eat, stay, and discover along the southern portion of U.S. Highway 65 in Arkansas.
words Kat Robinsonimages Kat Robinson and Grav Weldon
Eat, Stay, Discover
TheLowerDelta
Rhoda's famous hot tamales
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D O S O U T H M AG A Z I N E
at the facility, memorabilia from the community, and a Delta gift shop.122 Pickens Road , Pickens870.382.5266
BBQHoots BBQ David and Suzie Powell spent a couple of years after retirement traveling from place to place by RV. When they grew tired of that, they decided to head back to their hometown of mcGehee and open up a barbecue joint. Their eclectic tastes and nostalgic collection of restaurant items have been put to good use in decorating Hoot’s BBQ (The restaurant gets its name from the high school mascot, the mcGehee owl.) with recycled and reclaimed décor from dozens of different locations. The barbecue is also divine –
with great pulled pork, chopped beef, burgers and some of the best onion rings in the region.2008 US 65 , McGehee870.222.1234
u StAY
Lake Chicot State Park
Lake Chicot State Park features one and two bedroom cabins that face out onto Lake Chicot, the largest oxbow lake in north America. Each cabin sports a fireplace, full kitchen and bath, dining area and living room, along with one or two bedrooms. The park will supply you with firewood in the colder months; when it’s warmer, head over to the pool. Fishing along Lake Chicot is good any time of year, with bluegill,
channel catfish, crappie and largemouth bass as the main catches.2542 Highway 257, Lake Village 870.265.5480 arkansasstateparks.com/lakechicot
Delta Resort & Spa The Delta Resort and Spa near mcGehee is an escape designed for outdoor enthusiasts who want a chance to go olympic track shooting, to shoot skeet or just relax in the Arkansas Delta. Accommodations include two hotels and a lodge – along with a spa, restaurant and conference center. During the fall and winter months, head down and join the duck hunting club.8624 Bucksducks Road, Tillar 877.463.3582 deltaconferencecenter.com
Lake Chicot State Park
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D O S O U T H M AG A Z I N E
Lighthouse Inn on the Lake
This classic motor-court style hotel offers rooms with and without kitchenettes along with private cottages. The reasonably priced accommodations come with access to a pool, marina and bait shop, coffee shop and a landing right on Lake Chicot. onsite dining with live entertainment on weekend nights rounds out the package.4403 US 82, Lake Village870.265.2238
u DISCOVER
Lakeport Plantation
This nineteenth century home is the only antebellum plantation on the mississippi River in Arkansas. Built in 1859, the yellow-washed home has
been painstakingly restored by Arkansas State University and now houses items original to the property. An interpretive program talks about the plantation’s history and that of the family that lived there, as well as the tenant farmers who once plowed the land.601 Highway 142, Lake Village870.265.6031lakeport.astate.edu
Paul Michael Company
Paul michael’s eclectic tastes in home décor have become legendary – and today his shop is frequented by no less than famed television show host P. Allen Smith. Inside the series of warehouse-sized rooms in Lake Village, you’ll find everything from sofas to sideboards, chandeliers to Christmas decorations and every sort of
knickknack that will make your home the envy of the neighborhood.3696 US 65/82 South, Lake Village 800.732.3722paulmichaelcompany.com
Miller’s Mud Mill
Gail miller’s art is now recognized by leaders all over the nation; her pottery is lauded by many, including former president Bill Clinton. Her bright colors and free-flowing shapes have become iconic representations of Delta art from Delta mud. Today, you can visit her in her Dumas shop and buy your own collectables.862 US 65 South (in the Brookhaven Shopping Center), Dumas870.382.5277millersmudmill.com
Lakeport Plantation
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My mom loved flowers — flowers of any kind, really. Especially yellow ones. Her love of flowers must be in my DNA
because I truly believe they’re the perfect gift for any occasion, or
just because. They instantly brighten a room (and my mood).
Now, we all love our mommas. Most mommas love mums. So what
could be better than mums for moms? Cupcakes that look like
mums, that’s what! This is not one of those last-minute, dash and
grab gifts from a Wally World seasonal display. And it’s not difficult
or terribly time consuming. This means dads could pull this off and
the kiddos can help.
A homemade gift screams LOVE! And the mom in your life will
know you took the time to craft something delicious, just for her.
For the cake, bake your mom’s favorite flavor then decorate the
cupcakes as I’ve shown here. Does mom have a favorite color?
Create a single color cupcake bouquet or vary them as I’ve done.
I promise these mums won’t die, but they’re sure to disappear.
Happy Mother’s Day!
origin What’s New, Cupcake? Karen Tack & Alan Richardsonimages Catherine Frederick and Jeromy Price
For the Love of Mums
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D O S O U T H M AG A Z I N E
MethodPour colored sugars into separate Ziplock® baggies. Sort 22
like-colored marshmallows for each cupcake. To create the
petals, cut the marshmallows in half diagonally. Place white
marshmallows in the bags of purple, blue, white, and pink
sugar. Place orange, yellow, and pink marshmallows in the
bags of corresponding sugar color. Seal the bag and shake
to coat.
Ice cupcakes with a thin layer of vanilla frosting. Starting
at the outside edge of each cupcake, arrange the
marshmallows, sugar side up and pointed edge out, sides
touching. Continue for two additional rows, leaving room
in the center for stamens (licorice pastel candies). Place 4
to 5 like-colored licorice pastels, vertically, in the center of
each cupcake. Arrange the cupcakes on a platter or tray. Cut
green twists in half lengthwise. Add the twists to look like
stems, trimming to the desired length.
Ingredients8 cupcakes baked in paper liners(I used vanilla cake mix and green liners)
¼ cup each blue, white, yellow, purple, pink, and orange decorating sugars
1 bag (10.5 ounces) mini pastel-colored marshmallows
1 bag (10.5 ounces) mini white marshmallows
1 tub vanilla frosting
40 licorice pastels(purchased at Candy Craze)
Green licorice twists(purchased at Candy Craze)
Ziplock® sandwich baggies
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D O S O U T H M AG A Z I N E
Please drink responsibly.
RECIPE Burford Distributingimage Jeromy Price
Sponsored byBurford Distributing,
Fort Smith, Arkansas
2oz Viral Orange Sherbet
2oz Light Cream
3oz Orange Sherbet
2oz Vanilla Ice Cream
2oz Lemon Lime Soda
Orange Slice andCherry for Garnish
Combine all ingredients with six ice cubes in a blender. Blend until smooth, and pour into a parfait glass. Garnish with a maraschino cherry and an orange slice.
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D O S O U T H M AG A Z I N E
Inside, a carousel of pies turned in a glass case. Coffee mugs sat upside down on the scratched, mismatched tables. Something loud and frenetic was playing on the radio, some band he would have known if he’d kept up with music, although he had not.
The waitress, a stout twenty-something with a tattoo of a dolphin that peeked through the neckline of her tank top and swam toward her throat, brought him water in a red plastic tumbler.
“What brings you out on a day like this?” she asked.
Tandy wiped the rain from his face with a fistful of paper napkins. “Just, you know, out for a drive.”
She tilted her head and looked at him, and he felt the way he did when his mother accused him of some wrong he had not been guilty of, yet still felt remorse for.
Tandy was starving. For twenty-two hours he’d driven; for eight of those, the windshield wipers worked full speed, the rain like a river drowning his old Chevy truck. Back home in
Arkansas the drought was the worst in fifty years. Wildfires sprang up, the foundations of houses cracked as the ground shriveled beneath them, and roofers brave enough to show up for work found stacks of shingles melting on shorn rooftops.
He’d passed Leo’s Diner, its neon sign glowing pink, and then turned back. The road was empty here, the whoosh of water keeping sensible people at home. He heard the lyrics from “It Never Rains in California” sweep through his brain, his mother's favorite song. What would she think? he wondered, if she knew he’d driven all the way to Swami’s Beach, with only a vague sense of how to get to California and a map he found in his glove compartment that was printed in 1989.
fiction Marla Cantrell
on a Day Like This
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“What can I bring you?” she asked.
“What’s good?” he asked, and he realized he was twisting his watch back and forth across his wrist.
The waitress nodded to the board where a dozen choices were written in pastel chalk. Omelet, spaghetti and zinfandel were misspelled.“That’s everything we have,” she said, and tapped her pen against the green pad she had pulled from her pocket. Tandy ordered the spaghetti and wine and coconut cream pie, something Laurie would have hated. Laurie counted calories —well, she counted Weight Watchers points — the math a foreign language to Tandy. If she had the pie, she’d starve for a week. He looked at his watch. It was six at night, on the money, back in Arkansas. Laurie would be home by now. He wondered if she’d miss him.
The breakup was so quick he was still trying to sort it out. He said he wasn’t happy and she asked who was. She folded her arms across her chest, a defensive move he’d seen her do a thousand times, he supposed. He said he was looking for adventure, and until the moment he said it, he had not known how true it was.
“Adventure? You won’t even go dancing,” Laurie said. She looked him up and down. She narrowed her eyes. She seemed to hate what she was seeing.
“Dancing, well no, I wouldn’t go dancing,” Tandy said. "I’d go and watch you, I guess.” He frowned, knowing he never would. “I was thinking more about learning to sail. Figure out what a boom is, where the heck starboard is.”
Even to Tandy, it sounded lame. If he sailed it would be on a lake where the bass boats would fight him, where power boats would crush him in their wake.
“Sounds like a plan,” Laurie said, and turned to walk away. But then she turned back, she touched her throat. She put one hand on her hip. “Sail away, Tandy. You might as well. You’ve been drifting away from me for months.”
Tandy’s mother used to say, “Every marriage is a mystery.” He'd thought it was a beautiful expression, but now he knew better. She must have been saying, "How the heck does anyone tolerate another through the mundane days that make up an entire lifetime?" Maybe he'd only lived with Laurie because he was trying to trick a system that couldn’t be tricked. I’m thirty-one, he thought, and I just had a straight-up epiphany.
By then Laurie was on the phone, the bedroom door ajar. She was telling someone on the other end how hard it was to live with Tandy. “Daddy,” she said, “was either mad or happy. That I understand. Oh, he’d yell, of course, but then he’d get over it. This brooding business is for the birds.” There was a pause, and Laurie’s voice dropped. “No,” she said, “you’re not a bit moody. You’re straight-up perfect.”
So Tandy grabbed his backpack and stuffed in a week’s worth of clothes. He hoped Laurie would tell him to stop, would explain the call, but she only stood in the doorway, looking the way you do when you watch the polar bears at the zoo for the umpteenth time. A little curious maybe, but ninety-nine percent sure there’s nothing they can do that has the power to surprise you.
The waitress brought Tandy’s food. He breathed deep, stretched his weary arms, and then pulled his phone from his jacket pocket and checked again to see if Laurie had called. She had not. He hit the camera icon and snapped a picture of the table, the first time he’d ever taken a food photo. It was something his sister did all the time — the too-skinny sister who talked about food the way evangelists discussed the Bible. He then tore into the pie, pushing the spaghetti aside. He drank the zinfandel quickly, and asked for more.
“You got a name?” the waitress asked, and Tandy told her.
“I’m Merrill,” she said. “You look weary.”
It took Tandy off guard. “I believe I am.”
And then she sat down heavily in the chair across from him, smelling like tomato sauce and strong coffee. The diner, which was about the size of an RV, shook when a semi drove by. Merrill lifted her foot and put it on the chair beside her. She had on red flip flops, a bad choice for a waitress, he thought, and a toe ring on her pudgy middle toe.
“You’re not from around here,” Merrill said. “You sound like you could be on that TV show Nashville. “
“I’m from Arkansas,” Tandy said. “Pretty place. Mountains, deer everywhere, pine forests.”
“So what brings you here?” Merrill asked. “Work? No, that’s not right, is it? And you don’t look like a man on vacation.” Merrill tapped her forehead. “I know, woman trouble. Definitely woman trouble.”
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“Yeah,” Tandy answered, his face growing hot.
“Me, I got man trouble. All the time. Like serious man issues, but I never stop. Just go from one Joe to the next. At some point, my grandmother used to say, you have to believe somebody’s BS, because it’s all BS. That’s where I mess up. I believe everybody’s I love you and you’re my soul-mate and I only need the money ‘til payday.”
Merrill rubbed her eyes, leaving tracks of mascara under her dark eyes. The ends of her black braids shone Kool-Aid orange in the fluorescent light. There was a rash around her left ring finger in a wide circle.
“Married?” Tandy asked.
“Not hardly” Merrill said, and then laughed, a little too loud, Tandy thought. “There was this guy. His name was Jonathan. Used to wear his football ring on my wedding finger — California state high school champions 1999 — but I gave it back last week.”
“Sorry,” Tandy said, but Merrill brushed off the apology. “Nothing to be sorry about. He was nice enough — liked to gamble more than he should have — Vegas and what not. Mostly though, he just wanted someone to look after him, wash his clothes, tell him when to shave. Felt a little creepy after a while. Like this one time when we were fighting, I swear I almost said, ‘Jonathan, go to your room!’ That’s when I knew.”
The jukebox was quiet now. Rain thrummed against the plate glass windows. The ice machine started up, a churning sound that rumbled across the space.
Merrill reached over and took Tandy’s hand. He wound his fingers between hers, amazed at how easy it was.
“I get off in about an hour,” Merrill said. “I could show you around Encinitas. Nice places to see if the rain stops. I have a friend who has a boat,” Merrill said, and pointed past the rain-soaked parking lot.
“A sailboat?” Tandy asked, and felt his pulse racing.
“How’d you know?” Merrill asked.
Tandy smiled.“I had a feeling,” he said.
“You ever been sailing?”
“Nah, not much sailing going on in Arkansas.”
“It’s not a big one,” Merrill said. “Twelve footer, one sail, built before I was born. But I can sail it as easy as I can breathe.” She pulled her hand away from Tandy and rubbed her thumb across her forehead. “You won’t believe how much you’ll love it. On the water, away from all this, nothing else matters. Your woman trouble, my man trouble, it won’t matter. If I could marry the water, I’d do it in a heartbeat. I’d do it in a second. No BS out on the water.” She looked as if she might cry. “The water just…” she stopped for a second and then said “The water just is.”
Tandy felt his mood lighten. “What about adventure?” he asked.Merrill nodded. She tapped the dolphin tattoo on her chest, once, twice, three times. “Sure,” she said, and wiped her eyes. “Adventure. Mystery. It’s all there.”
Tandy peered out the windows. The bed of his truck looked like a watering trough. Back home the earth cracked, the farmers met at the truck stop to bellyache over lost crops. Ranchers were selling off cattle. Nothing to feed them. Laurie would be watching House Hunters now, like it was a game show. If the couple didn’t pick the house she did, she’d throw the remote at the TV. Tandy reached for his wallet. He had enough cash to last a week, two if he was careful. Merrill smiled at him. She had a little gap between her two front teeth, and he thought she was beautiful.
Just then, his phone buzzed. He pulled it from his pocket and there on the screen was Laurie’s name.
If he answered it, he might not have the nerve to stay where he was. He looked back at Merrill, who had started to clear the table. She’d placed his wine glass atop two white plates, and the glass was listing to the right. The rain slowed and the sun broke through. Merrill seemed to glow in it. He shut off his phone and put it away, deep in his pocket, so far out of sight it hardly even mattered.
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