Promises At The Park

It’s getting closer. Are you ready to do your part? The Great River Promise Block Party is May 17 at Walker Park. It’s going to be a day of fun and a day of purpose.

We are getting a lot of support, but we need more. We have 17 churches and 12 businesses signed up to sponsor a booth at the park. We need 20 of each; so we need three more churches and eight more businesses.

There will be all kinds of activities that day, including the Kiwanis Fishing Rodeo, Harry Myers’ incomparable Barbeque, antique cars, motorcycles, food, rummage sales, auctions, music, games, and a few other surprises we aren’t ready to mention just yet.

If you want to be a part of this, we need to hear from you. Contact Ignite chairman James Decanter at (870) 762-5510 or (870) 740-8156 or Ignite member Doug Echols at (870) 740-1094.

Why should you care? Because it’s our community, and it’s our kids. The Great River Promise is a program that guarantees our kids will have a chance for a college education, regardless of their ability to pay. There are rules, of course. They have to take some responsibility for their actions. They can’t be convicted for drug or alcohol charges. They have to stay in school and out of trouble.

If they do their part to live up to their potential, we will help them by promising them a two year college education at Arkansas Northeastern College. As the executives like to say, it’s a "win-win" situation for all. The kids have motivation to stay in school and out of trouble, and the knowledge that they can go to college, even if they don’t have the financial ability to pay for it.

The community has the benefit of knowing our kids are striving for a goal, and we can pull together to help them attain that goal. It’s what a community does. We bind individually, and each do a little so together we can accomplish a lot.

Why should you come to Walker Park? Why should you donate some of your hard earned money? Because we can’t do it alone, but we can do it together. Our churches and our businesses and our people are all coming together this one day in something the town has never seen before. We are having the biggest block party ever, coming together in a united effort for one project, for one cause, for our most important resource.

Nucor has pledged funding, giving this project a major boost. We appreciate their generosity. But, it’s not enough. Other people have to get on board in order to ensure that every child in this area can have the education that will be vital in the future.

Not everyone can do what a corporation can do. But everyone can do something. It’s what being a community is. Some can do more, some can do less. But we all can do something, to keep a promise of a better future for the next generation of our community.

In Memory of Max

We lost Max today. He was my sister's beloved shih-tzu. She rescued him from a shelter eight years ago, wondering if perhaps he had wandered away from his home. Teresa couldn't imagine anyone willingly not wanting that adorable face, those big brown eyes, that loyal heart.

Max was the family's first dog. My parents, my sister's family, my family; none of us had pets. Max showed us the error of our ways. Max showed us what we were missing. I would have never taken a "Chance" on my much loved doggie had Max not paved the way.

He loved my sister fiercely. He wanted to be next to her, wherever that might be. If she moved, he moved. He would sit next to you, as long as Teresa was there too. But if Teresa left the room, Max would dessert you for where ever his Mommy was going. He followed her from room to room like a shadow. We laughed at his antics and marveled at his doggie devotion.

I called him "Mop Face" because he always had so much hair, even after a trip to the groomers. I teased my sister that she could dip him in water and clean her floors with him.

Max was an old man, and had been deaf for a few years. His eyes were blurry, and he could no longer get up the stairs to my sister's bedroom. She carried him up and down. He couldn't jump up on the couch any more, so his family would gently lift him.

We knew his time was near, but you are never prepared for the grim news of "it's time."

So today, as our hearts are breaking because Max will no longer be here with us, there is also a smile through our tears. He brought so much joy and happiness and laughter and comfort.

Here's to you, Mopface....you changed our lives, made it better just by what you were; Max, the dog we loved and were so glad to have in our family.

More Weather Woes

I’m not sure what we in Arkansas have done to make Mother Nature angry. Whatever it is, I wish we could send up some sort of apology. Tornadoes, flooding, more tornadoes, more flooding. Sigh. Ten days ago, I listened to a Little Rock station as tornadoes pounded central Arkansas. My sister and her family were literally in the bullseye of the storm. So were other good friends, from Benton to Little Rock to Sherwood.

The next day, my family was in Little Rock, and I spent time with my sister. I wondered if they took cover during the storm. Or, if the males in the family heeded the universal homing signal. You know the one. When the weather siren goes off, every male must go outside and look up. I’m not sure why, I just know they do.

They live in a split-level house, three stories. Her bedroom is on the top level. Did she go to the lowest level and take cover? No, she went to the top story and went to bed. She knew there was bad weather in the area, but apparently with the peace that comes from clean living, she wasn’t particularly concerned.

That is, until I got there. Our old high school suffered major damage. The auditorium was lifted off its foundation, then set back down about a foot away. The roof on several buildings were torn off. More than a dozen trees were down, as well as utility poles.

The baseball complex next to the school was completely destroyed. Light poles down or leaning at an angle. The fence twisted like some oddly shaped free form art. The concession stand demolished. Bleachers that had been set in concrete were standing upright, smashed into a fence.

The airport, also home to the local weather service for that area, took a direct hit. Airplanes tossed around like toys, hangers crumpled like so much aluminum foil.
My sister, who weathered the storm without fear, saw the damage with me and realized the impact. She lives two miles from the school, less than three from the airport. Those were the winds that passed over her home, thankfully without harm.

I am amazed, each and every time, at the fickleness of nature. Steel and concrete bleachers were moved, yet nearby a plastic trash can remained upright, it’s plastic liner still in place. One tree down, yet another one stood. One house destroyed, yet another unharmed. On the school campus of Sylvan Hills where the high school, the junior high, and even the elementary school all had damage, a single wide trailer remained unscathed.

The senior class of Sylvan Hills High School will spend at least part of the rest of their school year at my sister’s church, First Assembly of God in North Little Rock. It’s a large church, and when the call came for help, the pastor immediately offered the church’s 25 classrooms.

I find it comforting that in a real crisis, those so called barriers between church and state break down. It’s not the first time First Assembly has stepped in. A fire at an elementary school several years ago moved students off campus, and into the church.

I am more than ready for Mother Nature to take a nap, a pill, a potion, or whatever else and get over herself and her bad mood. I’m ready for calm winds and sunshine, for the ease of one day being pretty much like the next day weather wise.

Until that happens, I guess we will all have to watch, and wait, and wonder. And the next time my sister is in the eye of the storm, perhaps she will heed the warning, and head downstairs instead of up. Or, perhaps not. Clean living has to count for something.

A Stitch In Time

I’ve been thinking about quilts lately. It’s sort of a strange thing to be thinking about this time of the year, when most of us are thinking about warmer weather. But quilts are about more than warmth, at least to me.

I grew up with quilts. My great-grandmother and both of my grandmothers made quilts. My "Mom" Decanter made quilts strictly for warmth. They weren’t particularly pretty, but they were functional. Money was always an issue in her home, and there just wasn’t enough to buy the prettiest fabrics and patterns. She made do with what she had, but her family stayed warm.

My "Mammaw" McGill made beautiful quilts. They weren’t as warm as Mom’s. Mom’s were heavy. Mammaw’s were light. Mammaw’s had pretty patterns and colors on them. I remember going to her house as a little girl and seeing squares stacked up from something she was working on.

When I was in second grade, Mammaw made a quilt for me. It had little Dutch girls on it, and the squares were separated by a light blue and lavender border, my favorite colors. My sister was in sixth grade, and she got a quilt too. The Dutch dolls were bigger on Teresa’s quilt, because she was older. Her squares were bordered in red and yellow, Teresa’s favorite colors.

We both still have those treasured quilts, one of my most precious possessions. I have a wedding ring quilt Gary’s grandmother made for us when we got married, with a beautiful scalloped edge. The rings are embroidered instead of done in fabric, which took so much more time to make. She made Logan a quilt when he was about five, done in a log cabin pattern in red, white, and blue.
Grandma Powell had a goal of giving each of her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren a quilt before she died. She fulfilled that goal.

My quilts are displayed in my home, but I don’t really actively think about them that much. That changed recently when I saw a news story about a group of ladies that have a quilt ministry. They attend church together, and make quilts for cancer victims undergoing chemotherapy. The quilts are free, and are made with love, prayer, and the good wishes of those ladies who put in hours of hard work so that someone else can have comfort during a difficult time.

I started thinking about how often I grab one of Logan’s old baby blankets when we head up to Mayo. I nap a lot on the trip up, in the hotel room, in the hospital during the procedures, and definitely on the trip home.

So with my brain buzzing with plans, I searched for my own quilt. The ones I have are too old and fragile for the purpose I have in mind. I found the perfect one, and also discovered my grandmothers could have gotten rich. Quilts are expensive these days.

This week, at my own church, my group of ladies are going to take my quilt and make it not mine, but ours. They are going to sign it and, if they choose to, they are going to put a bible verse on it that is meaningful to them.

These are the people that have been with my family through these almost six years of this illness. They have prayed and cried and hugged and ran errands. They have wiped my mother’s tears, and taken care of my son as though he belonged to them. They have called me and encouraged me and made me laugh.

The next time I head up to Minnesota, it won’t be with an old blue blanket that my son has abandoned. I will be covered, literally, with the love and good wishes of those who know me best, of those who have been on this journey with me. I can’t say I’m looking forward to the trip. I never do.

But this time, instead of counting the ceiling tiles in the hospital room, I will have my quilt. It will give me something to focus on instead of the pain of the procedures. Seeing the messages from friends and family will surely bring a sense of comfort and home. I know it won’t have any real healing powers, but I think it can’t help but make me feel better.