I Hear a Banjo Playing...Still (an update!)

May 22, 2015

I am no elitist. I come from humble beginnings nestled in the wornout crease of the Bible Belt. But we are driving to Memphis for my boy's baseball tournament, weaving through the back woods of Arkansas, fearing the sight of Ned Beatty at every turn. 

I find myself asking why?

Why can I get ribeye steaks and pork chops at any gas station? Why is the funeral home we just passed the size of my closet, complete with a Coca-Cola sign out front circa 1960? Why must the First Baptist Church on the left assure me everyone is invited? Isn't that a given? Why so many abandoned appliances, tires, buildings? Is there not a landfill handy to hide all this nasty sh*t like in any other civilized community? Why did we just pass a concrete black crow 20-feet tall? Why is there a rusty life-sized statue of Jesus next to a teeny roadside pond? 

Why am I driving hours and hours to watch 10 year olds play baseball?

You do what you do. 

And you live where you live...until you can escape...or wear a blindfold every day. Or maybe an inviting church adjacent to a pile of tires and a roadside bait stand and a broken statue of our Lord and Savior is a recipe for your life's happiness. Whatever works.

No pressure, Drew, but you better win ;). 

PS--On our way home (the boys' possible sweep of the tournament was snatched from their able hands when rain cut short the championship game when we were down 3-2), I noted two things :

1--the crow is actually a Raven, as my husband asked us all if we would like to stop and pose with this classy shout-out to the town of Ravenden.  No takers on the pic. And my apologies to crows everywhere.

2--the bait shop also sells snow cones.