March 22-27, 2009 - We left the serenity of the Natchez Trace in
Missippi and continued north to Arkansas. For a week we were treated to
some of the highlights of this state by a dear friend who took us on day
trips to places we might not have otherwise visited.
The Bill Clinton Museum in Little Rock is housed in a unique building
affectionately referred to as a motorhome on stilts. It juts out over the
banks of the Arkansas River and is elevated to allow the floodwaters
plenty of room to rage underneath. Perhaps this choice of setting and
architecture is symbolic of elements of Clinton's eight year term. Whether
you are a Clinton fan or not, the museum offers a look at his presidency
in the context of history, presented in the most positive light possible.
The museum was hosting an exhibit of paintings by Peter Max when we
were there. As we entered, there was a beautiful image of the White
House and portraits of many recent presidents as well, including, of
course, a series of images of Mr. Clinton.
Mark is a die-hard Beatles fan, and he loves Max's artwork, as it
has close ties with the Beatles. He quickly found a Beatles
painting too.
The museum opens with an exhibit of Clinton's presidential car. It was
built with all the latest high-tech gear, but as we read the list of
antiquated communications equipment, we suddenly realized just how
long ago Clinton was president. 1992-2000 is quickly slipping into
history.
We had not realized that Hillary ordered a complete new table setting
for entertaining guests at the White House. The plates featured a
bold image of the White House in the center, encircled by an ornate
design, giving visiting heads of state no doubts about just where they
were and who was entertaining them.
Seeing this table setting and one of Hillary's
gowns along with many photos of them both
dressed for elegant White House events
impressed upon us just how much these
grand, formal social events are a part of
the president's job.
There were glass cases filled with
stunning gifts the Clintons had received
from leaders all over the world, many
from remote, small countries. Our
favorites were an image of Socks the cat
playing the saxaphone and a Trek bike
and yellow jersey given by Lance
Armstrong (however, we were amused
that the bike's drive-train was Shimano
Ultegra, not the high end components a
president might expect or deserve).
Music is abundant in Arkansas,
and on another day we stopped
into a guitar shop in Searcy and
admired a wall full of banjos.
Two men sat in the middle of the
shop, happily strumming away.
The younger guitar player was
accompanying his 85-year-old
friend on the mandolin.
The Ozark town of Mountain
View hosts a huge Folk Music
Festival every year, and when
we visited, the town was gearing
up for the festivities.
All the buildings in this town have
stone walls that are a pretty
yellow-orange hue.
Mountain View is a wonderful Main Street walking town, great for
browsing and window shopping.
Mark found a perfect seat for
himself outside a furniture shop
that features oversized furniture
made of rough hewn logs.
Inside, I spotted a sign
whose words ring true
for us. On days like
this, when we discover
a new town or place
that lifts our spirits, we
feel the fleeting nature
of time and
preciousness of every
moment more intensely than we
ever did in our old lives.
We turned a corner and saw two old men happily whiling away the
hours whittling large wooden cooking spoons. They were creating a
large pile of cedar shavings as they whittled, and we watched them
for a long time. They expertly rotated the wood in their hands and
shaved off paper thin strips of wood, working together in contented
silence.
Not far from where they sat, Mark discovered the "Pickin' Porch" where
musicians gather to harmonize. What a cool town. We want to return
some year when the music festival is in full swing.
Across the street is an old Victorian
building that houses a large music
store, and Mark tried a variety of
guitars. Many were very ornate
with elaborate headstocks and
inlaid wood on the guitar body.
A few miles outside of town we found
the Dulcimer Shoppe where beautiful
mountain dulcimers are hand crafted
and sold. Long ago we had visited a
tiny dulcimer store in Sedona, Arizona,
where the shop owner was playing
"Feelin' Groovy" by Simon and
Garfunkle. This memory had
remained with us over the years, so
whenever we thought of dulcimers we
thought of that Sedona shop owner
playing that song.
As soon as we
walked into the
Dulcimer Shoppe
in Mountain View, Arkansas, Mark asked Judy, who was showing us
dulcimers, if she could play "Feelin' Groovy." I laughed -- how could she
just come up with that out of thin air? She asked Mark to hum a few
lines, and within minutes she was playing it expertly on her dulcimer!
She called out to her boss, Jim Woods, owner of the store: "Get a
base and accompany me!" He obliged, and all of a sudden we were
being treated to a spirited rendition of the Simon and Garfunkle
classic.
Jim had worked in the corporate world in Texas for too many years
and came out to Mountain View to buy the Dulcimer Shoppe and start
a new life. His love of music and beautiful instruments is infectious,
and he casually grabbed an autoharp as he told us his story and
began playing for us.
Back behind a wall of glass we watched the dulcimers being
lovingly made.
Deep in the Ozarks, we felt like we were reaching into the heart
of American culture, one that is home grown, a little rough
around the edges perhaps, and lacking any kind of commercial spin. So it surprised us as we drove along the rural roads and
suddenly found ourselves scanning the radio dial and counting eight radio stations broadcasting in Spanish. As we listened to a
Mexican um-pah beat for a while, I thought of my German ancestors who had settled in Wisconsin in the mid-1800's. The parents
spoke German exclusively at home, and only two of the four children were born on US soil. At night the father read aloud to the
family by oil lamp. He would read latest Charles Dickens novel translated into German. Suddenly the Spanish radio reaching out
to Latinos in the Ozarks made sense and seemed as American to me as everything else we had seen in Arkansas.
With these thoughts in mind, we pulled into Bentonville, Arkansas,
arguably the birthplace of modern America's consumer based economy
and, by extension, possibly the very heart of modern America.
It is the home of the Walton family's retail dynasty and site of
Sam Walton's first store, predecessor to today's Walmart
chain. Opened May 9th, 1950, the storefront is humble and
simple, not even the largest building on the block. It faces a
town square which is built around a large statue of a
confederate soldier.
Unlike most American small towns, this one is flush with Walmart money, and there is a
plaque thanking a Walmart CEO for the investment the company has made in sprucing
up the town. Every building on the square sports a fresh coat of paint and bright clear
windows, a rarity in small town America where boarded up windows and vacant store
fronts are far more common. Walton's store is now a Walmart visitors center, and there
are wonderful black and white photos from the 1950's showing the store's simple
beginnings.
Sam's plan was to make just one cent profit on every item in the store, regardless of
what the "market value" might be. He resented the way small town proprietors tended
to overcharge for necessities, and his intention was to bring the prices that were
available to big city residents to all the small towns of America. He bought an airplane
to make it easy to visit his far-flung stores, and later said that without Walton Aviation,
Walmart never would have become what it did.
It is ironic that by trying to serve the small town
American consumer he also helped put China, India
and other distant societies plunk in the middle of the
world economy. At the same time, he led the
homogenization of small town America, a high
cultural price that we have all happily paid so we
could have easy access to cheap consumer goods.
Mom-and-pop stores still thrive in other industries, however, bringing color and charm to
their communities, and our sampling of Arkansas music shops had proven that. Mark
especially liked the local Bentonville bike shop, Phat Tire (one of his favorite beers as
well). On their front door they replaced the traditional door handle with a mountain bike
frame. The list of local weekend rides they had posted looked very tempting too.
However, we had an appointment for warranty work on our trailer in Chanute, Kansas,
and we had to keep moving.