Finding Direction: The Wind Vane Chronicles

Our 11 day odyssey, spent 3 1/2 days in ICU in Durango, Colorado, ended thus:

After spending the night in Oklahoma City, where we had a suite and big steaks for dinner, we got up and on the road by 8 a.m. Monday morning last week.  The weather was sunny and cool.  Perfect fall day. 

We got back on I-40 going east, but soon left Route 66 behind.  It headed up to Chicago.  We were going east to Ft. Smith and then turned southward toward Little Rock and home.

The drive in our big Chevy Impala with all the bells and whistles (well, except for no interior gas cap cover release) was comfortable and roomy.  We definitely needed all the room we could get because of the 10 tanks of oxygen squeezed tightly in the trunk and the big "concentrator" machine sitting on the seat behind me. 

I was still on oxygen, even though we had returned to much lower altitudes.  A girl can’t be too careful about avoiding death, I reasoned.  But  then thought about the 10 oxygen tanks that they had told us were highly flammable.  Somehow the thought of being rear ended while at the same time being blown up wasn’t very appealing and chilled me a bit in thinking about avoiding death.  But then . . . I’d survived the week before in good shape so we trekked on (with me praying continually for a safe trip and no unfortunate collisions).

We stopped at the Arkansas state line at its Welcome Center and the ladies inside were very welcoming.  The one inquired about how we happened to be in their fine state and her mouth flew open as we began telling her.  We no doubt had the most interesting story of the day and she bid us Godspeed when we left after about 15 or 20 minutes clutching lots of brochures and full of ideas for a future Arkansas visit, maybe next fall.  (Lord willing and the terrain stays at low altitude.)

The next interesting juncture was Little Rock.  We were using an older Arkansas map and missed the easiest link.  We’d even been given a brand new one at the Welcome Center, but didn’t realize until too late the difference.  Oh well – such are some of the absurdities and most interesting aspects of road trips.  Besides, as usual, all ended well.

I mean – we got to drive by the sign that proclaimed "Toad Suck Park" that had us laughing for a while.  Then we spotted Bill Clinton’s palatial double-wide sticking out over the river in the middle of downtown Little Rock which was a sight to behold.  In more refined circles it’s known as the Clinton Presidential Library, but I’m telling you it looks exactly like a  double-wide.  A really big, maybe "presidential" one.  Take a quick peek at it on the website link above and you tell me that doesn’t look like a  bigdouble-wide – home of choice in the south!

Anyway . . . we managaed to get all the way through Little Rock, Arkansas during lunch hour without finding a single place to eat on the circuitous route we took, so we pressed on.  The next town of any size was Pine Bluff, and believe me, there was nothing, and I do mean nothing, in between.  We were definitely back in the south.

That statement proved very true when we got out of the car in Pine Bluff for a very late lunch and Tom exclaimed, ‘Wow, the air is really thick here!"  We felt close to home!  Well – in the true south.  The warm, thickly humid air was a shock after the wonderfully cool, rarified air of Colorado and New Mexico.  Texas and Oklahoma shared the cool dry air so this was our first taste of home in 11 days.

 Our next stop was the most emotionally charged.  Tom detoured a couple of miles off our chosen route to drive me into Dermott, Arkansas, population 3,733, where his mom lived and uncle and aunt and where he attended 5th and 7th grades.  He just had to show me and to re-visit the little place once more.  It had been a long time for him and I had never been there.

We spent about an hour there, with Tom taking lots of digital photos and even a short video I encouraged him to take with the same camera of the tile on the ground where the old "Allied Theater" used to be.  The concrete beneath the floor was still there and it was amazingly small, we thought, as mega-theaters go today.  The entire span across may have been 30 feet across, if that.

Plumbing pipes stuck up from the ground where the restrooms had been, men’s on one side, women’s on the other.  Tom remembered coming there to watch westerns and serials.  That was in the 50s and times were different then.  He’d lived just around the corner and would walk to the movies.  

A railroad track lay across the street with a towering tree next to it he said was the "smaller" one he used to climb.  He remembers his mother catching him up in it one day and hollering at him to climb carefully down because he’d broken his femur when he was 8 and spent many, many months convalescing.  He bears the long scar to this day running down the front of his right leg from his groin to his knee.  He’d had metal plates and screws in it that had had to be surgically removed.  But still loved climbing trees . . ..

The school was no longer there, with a brand new hospital being built on the spot where it stood.  We had to stop and ask several walkers before we realized where it had been.  Young boys were practicing football in the small stadium nearby and the old city swimming pool was still there, but in bad shape.

Then he showed me the First Baptist Church of Dermott, Arkansas where he was baptized.

I found this place interesting for two very different reasons.  One, Tom wanted to show me this place as it serves as an important reminder to him.  He wanted me to see it.  I told him it really needs a historical marker to commemorate the spot.  It had to have been a momentous occasion.

The second reason I found this place so interesting in this little town in southeastern Arkansas is because of the contrast between this place and the place where the old theater (above) had been.  I think it tells us something about lasting – make that everlasting  – values and those that are more fleeting.

While many of the places Tom recalls in Dermott are now gone or drastically changed and decayed, the First Baptist Church is still a vital and vibrant component of the community.  What are your thoughts in thinking about this?

The remainder of our trip was tiring and quiet.  We had intended to spend one more night on the road in Vicksburg, Mississippi, a short drive on down the road from Dermott, and we arrived there before dark.  But home beckoned.

It was a mere 3 hour drive longer (plus an hour we needed to stop to eat and rest a bit) added to our 11 hour day (for a total of 15 hours, but who was counting) and we wanted to get home.  We’d been gone for 11 very eventful days, but it was time to come back to reality.

We arrived home about 11:15 p.m., fell in bed and both spent the next day getting back in gear a bit by unpacking and trying to get caught up.  We’d had enough adventures to last us for a while.  At least until the next road trip, short or long, for which we are famous amongst family and friends.  We really are because our trips are always adventurous in the end and very funny in the happening.  I suppose I’ll have to share some of the others with you one of these days.

Like about the time we made the short 5 hour drive to Panama City, Florida to see Tom’s brother and wife in a mere 9, mostly lost, hours when we . . ..  

Nah . . . that will have to wait till next time.  Maybe some more vacation photos from this time, though, soon.  You want to see more of those?  Thought so.  We only have 140!

Cheers!  & Blessings today, y’all!  Dee

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