Editorial / Opinions

Horses, horses everywhere.

Hordes of people are still moving to the countryside in search of a better way of life. They love the seclusion and privacy that rural living provides most people. They cherish the quietness that exists on most days.  They appreciate the darkness of the nighttime, with a view of the starry skies unobstructed by the lights of the city. They love everything about that first year in the farmscape, until… tick season arrives.

I got asked to volunteer for quite possibly the best volunteer position there ever could be a few weeks back. I was asked to judge a county fair pie contest. Everyone who knows me knows I love sweets. Pies, cakes and candy, I've never met a dessert I didn't like.

The first time I heard about trout fishing in Arkansas was 1960. I was in basic training for the U.S. Air  Force in San Antonio, Texas, Lackland Air Force base. It was a special feature story in a Sunday edition paper about flying into a resort in Arkansas (no doubt Gaston’s Resort) and catching huge rainbow trout with trout guides in jon boats. The section really cued my interest, I’d done lots of trout fishing in Arizona growing up. But five to seven pound rainbow trout sounded unbelievable. Part two, I was moving to northwest Arkansas as soon as my basic training was over.

After my last back surgery a few years ago, I questioned my wife as to why the nurses were constantly asking me my name, where I was, and what day it was, for the first few hours after I awoke from the operation. Being a nurse herself, she informed me that those questions were just simple, basic ways in which healthcare professionals can assess the general mental status of a patient; not knowing the answer to one or more of the questions would raise a red flag alerting the nurse to investigate further.

Decoration Day” must be exclusively an old-time southern tradition. Many of my friends here in Missouri didn’t really know what it meant when I said I was heading down to Arkansas a few weekends ago for “Decoration.”

Once I told Judd McKnight, the great sheep rancher  of Roswell, N.M., my plans to complete grassland research on my own farm, in search for a Western grass that could adapt itself to Ozarks conditions. My interest in this venture whetted, I began watching closely other, similar developments. It was the first year of the old Soil Banks, and I saw a man take the worst rundown field in Greene County, plow it up, lime it and bring up the fertility count, and plant fescue. Despite the progress of my Western grasses, they were mere shadows of the neighbor’s fescue, so, while I didn’t intend to plow up my experimental plot, I determined to put my entire farm in fescue, never again to grow a row crop and not even to put up hay. I reasoned that I could devote what would have been hayland to cows, and use the profit from the cows to buy hay for the entire herd. My machinery would consist of one tractor, one mower, one wagon and a pull-type combine to get the seed off my fescue.

After my last back surgery a few years ago, I questioned my wife as to why the nurses were constantly asking me my name, where I was, and what day it was, for the first few hours after I awoke from the operation. Being a nurse herself, she informed me that those questions were just simple, basic ways in which healthcare professionals can assess the general mental status of a patient; not knowing the answer to one or more of the questions would raise a red flag alerting the nurse to investigate further.

A few weekends ago I headed to Arkansas for Decoration. My paternal grandma was born and raised on Nubbin Hill in Leslie, Ark. The old church building there served as both school and church for my great-grandfather, my grandma and all her siblings. It’s easy to forget those days gone by, a simpler time. Grandma fondly remembered walking to and from school, and to and from her girlfriends’ homes as a young girl. Even after a hard day working in the fields, she noted they were never too tired to walk to their friend's home to visit, or perhaps, if they were lucky, catch a ride into town. Today, with the Internet, TV and cell phones we can always have company or entertainment.

The Rodeo of the Ozarks’ final curtain came down July 3rd in Springdale, Ark., with a sky full of fireworks. The 66th rodeo is now history. We had good crowds considering most folks’ financial situation. As a board, we sure appreciated the support of fans and businesses who made it possible. Then there are volunteers that are indispensable and we have some mighty fine ones helping us. Of course this was the first year we changed dates. For 65 annual rodeos we were always July 1 through 4. This year we stepped back one day, and next year, the 67th rodeo will start on June 29 thru July 2.