A Little Bit of Heaven

Two Thoughts for Tuesday

Thought Number One:  When did crossing the Mississippi lose it's thrill?

My childhood was spent living in two distinctly different regions of the U.S. To understand this "two region" existence, you would have to know the background of my family.

My father was born and raised in Arkansas.  The farthest he would have ever been away from home up until his adulthood,  would be the 30 miles or so across the line into southern Missouri. He was part of an enormous extended family made up of 15 aunts and uncles and "god-only-knows" how many cousins he had. Like the rest of his family he thought Arkansas was the most beautiful place on earth.  The problem was in the late 1940's and early 50's  he realized you couldn't make a decent living working in the cotton gins of the south.  There were union jobs to be had in Chicago as the nation was booming in the post World War economy.

My mother's family were all born and raised Chicagoans.  My mother's parents had always lived in the urban areas around Chicago and would have (and did) think that the my dad's people were hicks.  Well, technically, they considered them "hillbillies" which today would not be considered politically correct.

Never the less, my dad moved to Chicago and met my mother, married and had two kids. It was not a marriage that was "made in heaven" as their worlds were just too far apart. 

My father was always an Arkansas son and we drove the 9 hours to Arkansas dozens of times any given year and on a couple of occassions we moved back to live for a period of time. My dad was devoted to his family and called his parents momma and daddy right up until the time he passed away in 1995. My grandfather passed away a few years after that,  but my grandma remains in the state she was born and has lived for all of  her 98 years. There was a time that she would take little trips to see other parts of the world but no more.  She doesn't want to get far from home.

My grandma still believes that Arkansas is really the only state worth being in and she wouldn't want to take a chance being elsewhere in case she would die.  These are her thoughts not mine. I will tell you that you might try to argue the point that there are other lovely areas of the country but as far as arguing with this cute little 98 year old woman, you are sure to lose. 

So anyway back to my point of  my first thought of today's post.... as a little girl I was quite familiar with the route between southern Chicago and northern Arkansas. The highlight of the trip was always crossing the Mississippi bridge at Cairo, Illinois. It didn't matter what time of day or night we came to the bridge, my brother and I would watch with awe as we made our way over that bridge. In those days, in the eyes of a child that was the most magnificent river on the planet. AND that bridge was something to behold.

I have since crossed the Mississippi thousands of times.  We have lived in the Quad Cities, Hannibal, Mo., St. Louis, Mo  and Collinsville, Il. which all sit on or near the banks of the Mississippi. On any given day we would have driven over the river to get to our jobs, to shop, to run errands and it became routine.  No awe, no thrill, just a way to get where we needed to be.  Somewhere between my childhood and my life as a grown up, the excitement of crossing that bridge (or other bridges like it) vanished.

Now on to Thought number Two: The Views of My Childhood in Photographs

Even as a little girl, I realized the vast difference in the topography of the Illinois, Missouri and Arkansas.  I used to bombard my dad with questions like "why is the dirt red instead of black here?" ( while in the south) or "why is there corn in all the fields instead of cotton?" ( while in the north) The answer is always the same.  That is the difference between the Ozarks and every where else.


So a couple of months ago, I started seeing pictures posted over at Really?! Wait! What? of areas that look just like the areas I played as a child.  Areas where the mineral springs bubbled out of the ground and made wonderful swimming holes or little creeks that wound through the yards.  These photographs reflect an area that time has hardly touched  in the 50 years or so since I made those trips so my dad could see his momma and daddy. 

There were other pictures as well that capture the very essence of the Ozarks.  I think Jewell has about 200 or so of the most extraordinary pictures of the area that it has ever been my pleasure to see. I encourage you to jump over to her blog and take a peek.  Even if you don't have a historical need to see the tin roof of a shotgun house, you will surely find some pictures that move you.

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This house is in the Ozark area of Ark.



The Good for the Day....The ability that some people (like Jewell) have to capture pieces of art in the lense of a camera.

The Bad for the Day...losing the wonder and awe that we experienced as children.

The Weird for the Day...As a kid, I thought the little shotgun houses were so cute. I had a great aunt that had a double shotgun house and thought she must be rich.  Today the thought of living in a house with this floor plan gives me the shakes.