Know Thyself: Bass Pro kind-a Girl

            The great outdoors!  Deep Breath!  Ahhhh! The warm spring sunshine flickers on the pond, glistening as the koi and goldfish dart about in search of manna.

            The azaleas, iris, lily-of-the-valley, crepe myrtle add pastel beauty to a Carolina blue sky.

Those specimens of spring grew, be it known, with no help from me.

           

That’s why I’m pretty sure I’m a Bass Pro kind of girl. Cypress swamps, hanging moss, ducks and alligators are right up my alley – bowling alley, that is. Bowling lanes with a beautiful blue, crystal-clear water motif, dangling fish, and a ball-return shaped like an alligator mouth suggest a luxury experience.

            Hand painted wall murals and a crystal-like elevator to the observation deck and restaurant provide glow, glitter, and glam. I won’t go so far as a direct comparison to Crystal Bridges, but that did come to mind.

            Growing up with hunters and fishermen who built their own rustic lodge, aka: the river house, I’m quite familiar with panoramic views of rivers. The Ouachita River near Sparkman is quite lovely and provides great fishing, turtle shooting, and rope riding, swinging out and jumping in spots. Bass Pro at the Pyramid promises gorgeous views of the Mighty Muddy Mississippi and an interactive duck hunting experience.

What I would love even more would be an overnight in one of the suites in the Big Cypress Lodge, inspired by hunting camps I’ve never laid eyes on: dark wood trim, porches with rocking chairs, flat screen TV’s and room service. Pretty sure there’s an indoor potty, because that’s where I draw the line. The experiences at The River House began the construction of my concrete bladder.

            Once I cheered the Memphis Tigers from seats in the Pyramid, the Tomb of Doom. I’ve enjoyed Cher’s elephant riding performance there and Garth Brooks’ sing-alongs. Manheim Steamroller Christmas Concert played there, too.

I’ve admired the Gateway Arch in St. Louis, have walked along the river walk at Mud Island, and shopped at the River Market in New Orleans. This spectacle, as close as Memphis, is a shining beacon of opportunity for city girls like me to enjoy the luster of the great outdoors and get in a little shopping.

This air conditioned, no-bugs-my-lady outdoor girl is ready for the Bass Pro Experience at The Pyramid. 

Arkansas' Crystal Bridges Loves Frank

"I have been standing on the side of life, watching it float by. I want to swim in the river. I want to feel the current."

        So writes Mamah Borthwick Cheney in her diary as she struggles to justify her clandestine love affair with Frank Lloyd Wright. Four years earlier, in 1903, Mamah and her husband, Edwin, had commissioned the renowned architect to design a new home for them. During the construction of the house, a powerful attraction developed between Mamah and Frank, and in time the lovers, each married with children, embarked on a course that would shock Chicago society and forever change their lives. 

Prior to retirement in 2012, I participated with a Book Club that read fascinating books. This is one. In a one sentence review, I commented, "Hide your eyes to the stark realities, if you must, but read every word."

             Architecture as an art form is a concept I appreciate. Attracted to the Mission Style, the clean lines of Stickley Furniture and FLW inspired design-lighting, that architecture holds appeal. Such was the case of architecture in the early 1900's in America. I remember learning about and liking FLW designs while in Art class at Henderson State University.

Light Fixture in the WYOMING WELCOME CENTER

            I am looking forward to Fall-2015 when the FLW House will open to the public at Crystal Bridges Museum of American Art in Bentonville.  The Bachman-Wilson House that was originally built in 1954 by FLW was endangered because of its location near a flood-prone river tributary in New Jersey. It had been flooded and repaired too many times.

LAMP in Wyoming Welcome Center

    After years of pursuing the best option for the house, the couple who owned the house and lived in it for 25 years sold it to Crystal Bridges.

Now,the house has been purchased, disassembled, moved to Arkansas (in 2013), and is being rebuilt/reassembled so that it overlooks the Crystal Spring that runs through the Bentonville property.

It's exciting to plan a visit to Crystal Springs mid-summer and again in the Fall.

It's Time to Change Purses

       

 A pretty young Mother smoothed her floral print dress over lithe limbs as she anticipated an afternoon stroll. 

Hues of delicate pink combined naturally with splashes of yellow and green.

 A vibrant Carolina blue with soft white provided a canvas for the expression of fancy as her full skirt swelled in the warm breeze.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                              Her step took a skip; she smiled at Creation, spring’s plethora of color. 

"Prom Queen Forever!"

            My friend Cindy laughed when I told her I wore a polyester prom dress. Probably searched for it at Lois Jean’s in Magnolia or The El Dorado House, 30 miles south of Camden. “Elegant in its simplicity,” the dress was complemented by elbow length white gloves buttoned at the wrist with pearls, not to mention the peau-de-soie pumps. A girl’s orchid corsage and fancy hair-do had many a prom date humming The Big Bopper’s “Chantilly Lace.”  

It’s Prom Week at Rector High School and my thoughts have drifted to April 16, 1966. White Columns in the Moonlight was the theme. The Nomads from Southern State provided dance music…at the Fred Whiteside School Cafetorium. I would not have remembered much except I kept everything, and I have my copy of the program, provided by the Junior Class. My date was the still handsome Gene Smith. It’ll be fun to share all these keepsakes at our 50^th Class Reunion next year. 

The Rector girls have had the hair stylists and make-up artists booked for weeks. They have purchased multiple outfits – one for the “Grand March,” the traditional walk-out of senior girls and guys, all dressed up, with many of the community and all of the parents in attendance. Another outfit is required for the dinner and a final, sporty ensemble, for the “after-prom,” or the real fun.  Last year, the Senior Class chartered a luxury bus as transportation to the event, held on the Memphis Queen on the Mississippi River with a dinner cruise. After the cruise, the group boarded the bus and anticipated a night at “40 acres of fun” with go-karts, bumper boats (wet and dry), batting cages, Putt-Putt, Lasertron Lasertag, Sky Trail Ropes Course and arcade games. Something quite similar is planned for this year, minus the riverboat.

Son Rich McAlister before his Prom.

An article in the Ark Dem-Gaz this morning prompted this reverie. Two-piece, ab-solutely tummy showing prom dresses have reappeared on the market. Bartlett girls must have been light-years ahead of their time, because “been there, done that.” We administrators, chaperones, and body guards kept extra clothes, shoes, fabric, safety pins, and shorts in our back rooms to more appropriately dress several of the more risqué attempts of “fashion-forward” teens. The dress style ranged from barely there to Cinderella and her glass slippers. Guys were usually easy - get a tux and match her dress with the vest. However, once we were forced to make the call about girls dressing in tux, more of an identity statement than a fashion note. Could the guys then dress as entertainment from The Birdcage?  Spare the Prom, please.

Now, I can enjoy hearing about the Prom, reminiscing about my polyester prom dress. It’s fun to see the girls’ pictures and hear about the hair styles and beautiful dresses. Just enough distance and plenty of years between then and now allow Prom to reclaim its excitement and sparkle. And as a bonus, I've got a sign that declares me "Prom Queen Forever!"

Living Longer with Mid-Sentence Friends

We picked up in mid-sentence.
A sweet lady here in Rector remarked such about a group of her friends and I thought how true that is of forever friends.
So fortunate am I to have these relationships to enjoy.

Betty Dale and I are friends like that . Not to ignore cradle friends or adult friends, "saved my life" friends, "helped raise my children" friends, mind you. I treasure all friendships. They say people live longer when surrounded by friends. I can attest to that truth.

Anyway, as I was saying, mid-sentence. Marvin and I walked into Mazzio's Pizza on Easter Sunday noon (not much open in Camden). Dale and I had arranged to meet there and visit a bit before her daddy's graveside service.

As Marvin and I navigated the table to find seating among, other relatives such as her son Matt, son-in-law Dwight, and others, the crowd parted and allowed Dale and me to sit beside each other. Everyone knew it best not to separate us, or Heaven Forbid, sit between us.

Joe Ralph, her brother, picked up right where he left off many years ago, with barbs about not recognizing me without "blue hair," a reference to photos from my recent role as an old granny type in a Community Arts Council comedy. I didn't pay much attention to that younger brother because Dale and I were picking up in mid-sentence.

Bill, her husband, joined in the fun by making silly jokes when he tried to add the glamour focus to his camera lens. He and Marvin would make a dangerous duo, so I'm glad he stays a nice distance away in Florida....near Tampa.

Not so my friend Betty Dale. I wish she lived closer. Now that her dad has died, joined his wife Betty Jo and all the Saints in Heaven, I doubt she'll be back to Arkansas very much. We'll have to lasso her for the Great 50th 1966 Camden High School Class Reunion next year.

She's retiring this spring. Her school will miss her exquisite compassion and helpful ways. They'll miss her uplifting spirit. I told her that after six months of napping, she might feel like some volunteer work or like taking a girl trip...somewhere.

It never matters what she and I talked about last; we just pick right up and talk...as if we were at a spend-the-night at her house or mine on Truman Road in Camden. Isn't life grand when we keep up with our forever friends. There for each other whether over the phone, in text, or through the miracle of prayer, Betty Dale and Margaret Jane keep adding layers to an already deep friendship.

They say you live longer because of friends.  Relationships give value to our years and add years to our journey.

Unbroken, II

Unbroken.

While no movie was produced about Bob Hite’s life, he, and others like him, including my father, remained unbroken. Mr. Hite’s death is noted in the Ark Dem-Gaz this morning with a photo and a nice write-up.

A part of the team dubbed “Doolittle’s Raiders” in WWII, he was in the group of men who flew bombers over Japan/Tokyo. Resulting in miracles for troop morale in the South Pacific, Bob Hite and his fellows brought the war closer to an end.

His son, Wallace (we called him Wally) spoke of the 38 months his dad was held captive, isolated, in a 5x5x9 foot cell.  Had the war not ended and the prisoners liberated, Bob Hite and many other American airmen and soldiers would have been executed. Mr. Hite survived, unbroken.

We Camden kids knew Bob Hite as the dad of one of our classmates. He managed the Hotel Camden during our growing up/early teen years. He was Wally’s dad. He and his wife Portia hosted dance parties for Wally’s classmates at their top-floor hotel suite. Wally’s personality always boosted morale wherever he was. Maybe like father, like son.

Wally gave a speech in 7^th or 8^th grade when he was running for political office – Student Council.  I’ll never forget his opening line, delivered like the orator Mark Antony speaking on the occasion of Julius Caesar’s death, “Friends, Romans, and Countrymen…” Wally said with the same grandeur, “A students, B students, C students, D students, and Friends!”  He got my vote!

The men who raised us, Our Fathers’ Generation, are forever cemented in our memories, their standards for us, lofty; we remain eternally grateful.

How One Thing Always Leads to Another

     OK, so the hinges to the cabinet door on the built-in pantry broke off.  Two of the four snapped. I'd noticed a bit of a sag the other night and had discussed what could be the issue with guru of all things mechanical and otherwise. We did not see anything strange, nor did we hear any rumblings from the pantry door.
     Never did we hear cries of dismay, "Madame, can not continue to load tons of cans and boxes, bottles and bags into our shelving, You must not realize the door itself weighs 60 pounds. The load, after years and years, is too heavy for us hinges." Not a word. I guess the "sag" was the warning.
     The other night I heard "Snap." Not an excited snap, but the kind of crisp snap metal makes.  "What on earth!"  I opened the pantry door with caution and saw two metal hinges broken, screws popped out, lifeless on the pantry floor. With great determination and super strength, the remaining two hinges held the entire door's weight,
     Hubby and I sought replacement hinges, knowing we could swap some out if worse came to worse, as all the hinges in the house are the ones mounted inside the cabinet doors, like the two that snapped. After a phone call to the manufacturer, Marvin tells me that they will arrive "within a few weeks."  None of the modern hinges at Lowe's, don't ya know, match this design. They look somewhat the same, but are not the same and are made of much lighter-weight metal. Drat.  So much for a simple fix.
   

     Whatever the steps to repair, here's the bottom line:  Unload the shelves on the pantry door. Take the pantry door down.
      That task does not take too long. I sort and organize like items as I go and look at expiration dates. Yikes. Get the garbage bag - some of this stuff was around when Nixon was president.  Like Praline Liquor that I kept because the bottle was so pretty.
      Now that the shelves are empty, they appear a tad smudged.The shelves need wiping down with Clorox wipes and Spick n' Span.
     

The other cabinet door/shelves probably are close to collapse, so I'd better unload them. I'm not quite as worried with these shelves because of the boxes of baking soda and the number of sugar-free, fat-free Jello boxes.
      I've gone this far, might as well unpack the entire pantry, arrange it more efficiently, and use some sliding baskets.
     And I do. I scrub down the shelves and throw away plenty of "save this little bit"...like dried out raisins and mini-marshmallows.
     
   I learned these things about myself:  I affirm the medicinal qualities of chocolate. One can never have too much chocolate hanging around. You never know when you might need a chocolate pie or batch of brownies, a plate of fudge, or a handful of morsels. You might be called upon to make chocolate rolls.
     I also have a tendency to buy extra, whether I need it or not, for the same reason:  you just never know.
   

And, plenty of  Pam  is always good to have around.