A truck with studded tires and ample ground clearance is almost required in this part of the state. And, as far as Jeff is concerned, he won’t buy a truck if it doesn’t have a back seat. “That’s the seat for Trouble.” Trouble is the dog.
“You gotta admit, he is a pretty dog,” said Jeff, as we drove down a gravel road, Trouble stands with his front paws on the console looking out the front window. “He’s a stray. Come to the house. He’s like American Express: can’t leave home without him.”
After coming over a small rise, we are forced to turn around at a place in the road that resembles the sloped ramp at a boat launch. At the base of the ramp, water spread out between the trees and disappeared around the corner as if looking down the bend in a river. Jeff’s truck is caked with mud along the sides from driving through it the day before, but he suspects the water might be too deep to handle today. The flooded roads and fields are a part of life here in White County. When this much area of the Earth is completely flat, it doesn’t take much rain to gather in the lower spots and turn a field into a lake with only two or three feet of water stretching to the horizon.
“Shoot, I didn’t even know there was a highway until I was sixteen year old. I thought everything was a gravel road. We used to think it was a vacation going to Little Rock…”
“Do you remember the first time you got to eat out?” Ken asks.
“No, I don’t even remember. But I know we didn’t have a color TV until I was about 10th grade in high school… that’s 1984. I graduated 12th in my class. The only problem, there wasn’t but twelve. Yeah, Kenneth, Billy said everybody made fun of us in high school… he said: ‘How do they like me now?'”
This is the first jottings of a story that I hope to be developing for the next few months. As it develops, you’re sure to see segments of it pop up here.
I cannot tell you how I’ve missed doing stories like this.
Stay tuned…
-Noah D.
