It’s a typical Arkansas day in early April. The temperature
is near freezing. There is a heavy wind blowing dust around the muddy fields. I’m
sweating from the humidity. The dogwoods are blooming in their quiet glory.
Sleet and snow are forecast for later this morning. I’m at our farm and I do believe
I just heard a cow moan “WTF?”
One thing living in Arkansas teaches you is not to take
things for granted. The weather stands as an independent proof. There are
others. Some changes come inevitably here, whether they come fast or slow, or
with an inexorable steadiness.
Look at politics, it took over 40 years, but we’ve gone from
the likes of respected statesmen like J. William Fulbright to … to … to … well,
whatever you call what it is that we have now.
It took us a little longer to go from a progressive,
visionary (albeit sometimes inebriated), and compassionate governor like
Winthrop Rockefeller to, … excuse me while I dry my eyes.
Other political changes seemed to happen overnight. One day
we had a sadly significant segment of the Democratic Party who were racist,
sexist, anti-progress Neanderthals and the next day they all had a different
letter behind their names. The change came overnight, it seemed, and along with
the change came trainloads of corporate money designed to perpetuate the change.
We went to bed one night with the rich farmers in Southeast Arkansas
making fun of the poor hillbillies in Northwest Arkansas. We woke up the next
morning to hear those same hillbillies and their new friends bemoaning the fact
that those pitiful sounds from the Delta were keeping them from enjoying their Eggs
Benedicts.
Now we are witnessing the death of small community churches that
once taught oiled and polished children to practice love and grace, to worship
a pale Galilean who said “love thy neighbor as thyself,” and to sing some of
the most grandly spiritual songs ever penned by our Christian brothers and sisters. Those quiet pillars
of the community are falling to regional mega-facilities that tell us who to vote
for, rail against education, exalt selfishness, encourage tribalism and bigotry,
and keep the kids happy with “Jesus is my boyfriend” music.
They tolerate both greed and divorce, practices that I’m sure
would have the Galilean shouting, “Oy vey!”
We’ve gone with tragic speed, it seems, from families
sitting around the supper table discussing the day, to a solemn group of strangers
eating fast food meals and studying a handheld device designed to isolate one
from any semblance of real world love and companionship.
Yes, things do change, particularly here in Arkansas. Some don’t
though. After all, this is a state that ranks near the bottom in
every measure of physical and social health and near the top in such measurable
tragedies as teen pregnancies, drug addiction, and abject ignorance. It’s a
state run by people who think professional wrestling is real, that the reality
of physiological differences is the work of Beelzebub, and that The Beatitudes resulted from fake news.
Now we hear the mantra of “Make America Great Again.” I’m
not sure what that means, short of the re-introduction of slavery. In the meantime,
from what is happening, that sort of change is reminiscent of the way many people
would renovate a grand old house that has graced the area in which it stands
for centuries.
First demolish it. Second, grade the site. Third, replace it
with a cheap metal building.
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| Vote for the rich. What do you have to lose? |
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