Southern Born West Coast Raised

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Arkansans, for the most part, have large families. But a family reunion does not require the entire state to be roped off with signs that say “Private Party”. I was born there but I am not my own uncle. When fans at War Memorial Stadium shout “Sooey Pig”, that is not a secret southern code for “Hey cousin”! Children might be required to conjugate the verb ‘sop’ at some time during their school career but it’s not as if it can’t be found in any standard dictionary.
I owned my own shoes. My brother and I could go out in the snow at the same time. Not everyone would use the toes of their bare right foot to scratch the calf of their left leg. The only time I drank moonshine was early on when I thought the glass was mine. When the United States Military Academy at West Point greeted fellow Arkansan Douglas MacArthur, the Adjutant’s Office did not search the roster for a large, badly printed ‘X’ for his signature.
Most Southerners will gladly give you the wheel and tire off of their own vehicle in order that you might get on your way down the road. They will size you up first and if it looks like you will be bringing it back, it’s yours to borrow until you pass by again. In olden times, like the 1950’s, if directions you were given confused you in any way, the roadside family would loan you one of their children to ride along with you. If the child could easily walk the distance home before darkness fell, you had a guide. People would trust each other merely from the effects of a handshake or a look into your eyes.
I wouldn’t trade my first twelve years as a child in Arkansas, for twelve years anywhere else. Whether you were fishing at Lake Conway, or taking a canoe trip down the Buffalo River, you were virtually guaranteed a good time. If during those outings, you managed to get snake bit, most folks in Arkansas were of pioneer stock and knew what to do in that situation. You would receive excellent first aid, accompanied by Scripture, so as to draw the poison from the wound as well as the soul. What a friend most of us had in Jesus.
No, the various ethnic persuasions did not get along in those days. Though it wasn’t as bad as the media portrayed, it did violate a Constitutional Amendment or two and was more than just unpleasant at times. Black folks had a right to exist as citizens, but some Southerners thought it best to deny their right to advance beyond menial labor. This was true in Arkansas, just as much as it was in the proverbial Deep South. Arkansas did secede from the Union prior to the hostilities of the 1860’s, but it came back. Sometimes, it seemed as if they came back on paper only but legally, they rejoined the Union. Yes, there are some in the South today that feel that there was nothing more than a cease fire in 1865. Flags, bumper stickers, cigarette lighters, t-shirts and ball caps will attest to that fact.
My book is a series of short stories pertaining to events in my life that eventually lead to my family moving from Arkansas to California in 1964. Now, if you have already decided not to purchase this book on Kindle, do me one big old favor and leave a comment that maybe it just wasn’t your type of story. And if you do purchase it, please don’t loan it out. As an author I can tell ya that I worked real hard on this. If I’m lying, I’m dying! I would greatly appreciate your help in dispelling a myth or two regarding what it was like to live in the South. I would also like to cover those traits I brought with me to California and those that I misplaced over the years. Thank you for stopping by. Come back when you can stay longer. We Southerners, as you can see, get straight to the point.