Why Arkansawyer?

The title of my blog spot is 'Arkansawyer', an obvious reference to the home of my youth. "They" say (and no, I do not know who 'they' are) that "You can take the boy out of the country, but you cannot take the country out of the boy."

There is a lot of truth about that, when it comes right down to it. I grew up on the old family homestead, settled about a hundred fifty years ago by my direct ancestors. There have been members of the family, over the last hundred and fifty years, who moved away, obviously, or it would be a terribly crowded place. Somehow, I have become one of those.... but my roots are still tied to that plot of ground.

Within the next week, I will have my 12th wedding anniversary. There were really only two conditions that I gave my wife. First was, that we had to get married for a temporary time.. a 'trial period' as it were. My suggestion, to which she readily agreed, was a period of 60 years. Short enough that we both had an 'out' if we were unhappy after a time, but long enough to suggest the seriousness of the bond of matrimony.

The second condition? That she had to accept the fact that one day we would return to 'home'... where my roots are... sight unseen.

Somehow, over the years, it hasn't worked out yet... First we were in the military, with the expectation to seperate after my six year enlistment and return home... and as that time grew nearer and nearer, the plan was to go home, somehow squeak by - maybe on unemployment - while I went back to school... but we had a child and bills to pay, and when the guy offered me a job out of the blue, doing what I had been doing, how could I refuse?

So I walked out of work one day, in uniform, and back in the next in civilian attire. I switched desks, but that was about all. The next year, I changed companies, and started working for my current employer, and have moved twice in that time - from Alabama to Oklahoma to Pennsylvania.... the great 'up north' of our childhood myths.

But, I haven't yet moved 'home'. Over time, the yearning grows stronger, then slowly wans away, like a slow, steady heartbeat. My current job is a good one. No complaints, I suppose. The pay is pretty good... Pennsylvania - despite being 'up north' or 'back east', depending upon your perspective, is actually the closest thing to 'home' that I've ever experienced since leaving 'home'.

I am from Arkansas, my wife from Louisiana, our son was born in Texas and our daughter in Alabama, we lived for a while in Oklahoma, and now for the past almost five years, we've been in Pennsylvania. And in a few days, we'll have been married for 12 years. Now that I think of it, that was quite a bit of moving in a short amount of time, considering that we've been here the last five.... Pennsylvania is closest to home in a number of ways.

I grew up in the Ouachita Mountains, which we were taught was a seperate range, south of the Ozarks. Here, our children are taught that the Ozarks stretch from Missouri to Oklahoma and Arkansas, and there is no talk of the Ouachitas. Oh well. From afar, the Rocky Mountains are one range, but in reality, there are many - but that's a subject for another day.

I used to roam, wild and free. Nothing but National Forest land surrounded us. I would climb an Arkansas-sized mountain, or go wading in the creek (a 'stream' here), and look for crawdads (crawfish or crayfish, here). We lived down a dirt road - the last house before the forest consumed everything. From our house, in the evening, you could look west, down the valley, toward the setting sun. I took lots of sunset pictures as a teen... even won a blue ribbon at the county fair for one.

You could listen to the 'locusts' (or 'cicada's', here), buzzing late into the night. We used to take the empty shells that they left behind, and amass great armies... and if you really got bored, you could always turn them to dust and start over again....

And there were whip-poor-wills, early in the spring and on into summer, just a little ways into the woods. At times, you could hear coyotes yipping... it would sound like dozens, but I was taught that there probably weren't many at all ... they are just very noisy... and we'd see the road-runners running down the road - sometimes even flying up onto a post or branch.

All of these things are a part of me - never to be removed. But, yet, I live not in a natural world - but rather - a man-made one. I earn my living by typing on a keyboard. The last few years, I've returned to my 'roots' but once per year. My children - even my wife - are different. We go home, and when it is dark out, with no city lights in the distance lighting the horizon, like we have here, all is dark - but not quiet. There are the cicadas, of course, and at least one other noise, that is interesting... My wife, a city-girl, says to me, "We're not that far away from civilization... Hear the cars on the highway?" I turned up my ear, a puzzled look on my face... then started to laugh. "You silly girl... that's the breeze, blowing through the leaves in all these trees." And of course, teasing or not, I was right.

At night, we could find a dark spot, and look up and see the Milky Way. I understand, that in the desert southwest, it's a bright road through the sky. In the hills of western Arkansas, it is not quite as clear, but yet, the children are still facinated by it. And I've driven them down the road, further into the National Forest, to a parking spot at the foot of a trail, turned off all the lights and made them get out and stand in the dark... and all of them are terrified...

I feel bad. Not for making them scared in that moment of darkness. But bad because that moment of darkness means they are not at one with the darkness... with nature. It's not really dark out there. Sure, no city lights. No glow on the horizon... but there is light. Through the clearing of the parking area, in between the treetops, you can look up and see millions of stars, and the thread that is the milky way. I point it out and they say, yeah... really neat... can we go now?

And here I am, raising my children without that bond to nature that I had as a youth. They are 'city kids', even though we live in a rural area surrounded by farmlands. Where we live is nice, of course, but that ever-present glow on the horizon.. all the conveniences of a modern home. They've rarely sweated on a hot evening with the windows open, and have never gotten up half frozen to stoke a fire in the heater - thanks to central heat and air. They'd rather play a video game than go for a walk, any day.

I don't know if that is good or bad. I rather think it is bad, but, who am I to judge? I am, after all, a product of my upbringing.. and of course, my opinions must be slanted to favor that life. I still till a garden in the spring... more to feel the earth between my toes than to grow anything productive. And my daughter, the younger child, has developed some of my love for the outdoors. Maybe my best bet is to continue to try and teach them the best that I know how... to share my experiences where I can and let them have their own experiences when chance allows.

Or maybe... I should tell the almighty that I am boss (by the almighty, I mean the one and only Dollar) and give up my keyboarding and head home for them thar hills. Those big heavy duty cardboard boxes, coated with a nice wax, are pretty weather resistant. Who really needs a job, money, house, or a car anyways? And really, who needs video games or cable/satellite? I think we'd do okay... except during ice storms....