This weekend Kathryn and I are looking forward to all four of our girls and all four of our grandchildren gathering together at our home for some serious laughter. It doesn't take much to trigger a giggle in this gaggle of girls and grands.
In the midst of this laughter, I am confident my mind will drift to another place in space occupied by faces of people my children and grandchildren have not known other than through pictures and stories that are told over and over again. From personal experience, I know that the younger grandchildren will only 'recall' this Thanksgiving day through the photos we take and the folklore we share with them as they grow. Such is life...
The river that runs below the bluff where our house sits is the transport for my mind's periodic 'magical mystery' tours. I can't resist its stimulating charm. The fact that the river flowing below the bluff is the same river on which I grew up fascinates me even more. Of course, this river is the White River with origin in Arkansas. The river that served as Johnny Mercer's muse when he penned the lyrics to "Moon River" was the Black River near his home in Savannah, Georgia (Chatham County, Georgia officials changed the name of the Black River to "Moon River" in 1962 to acknowledge the success of Mercer's song).
Moon River, wider than a mile
I'm crossing you in style some day
Oh, dream maker, you heart breaker,
Wherever you're going, I'm going your way
During the fall of the year, I sense that the moon's reflection in the river is brighter. The moonlight seems to dance more fervently upon the ripples in the water as it passes over the shoals in the stream. Maybe it is the cool of the night. Maybe more light makes its way through the tree tops as they shed their leaves. Maybe it is just my imagination. Whatever the reason, the river seems more alive... And when the river is alive in my heart, my memories are stirred.
Certainly, the river's influence is "wider than a mile." River towns seem to have an 'attitude' and that 'attitude' is embodied by the people who reside in and hail from those river towns. I can think of no place where such statement is more true than Newport. But before the river gets to Newport downstream from my present home, it dances through the little town of Norfork.
The river is reflective of life...it goes on. One of my pals, Barton Conley, passed from this life early this morning at 83 years young. Kathryn and I attend church with Bart and his wife, Betty, at the Norfork United Methodist Church. What a joyous couple! Bart and Betty share our love of blues music. Bart also appreciates a couple of fingers of good single malt scotch, just as I do. Bart loves the river and it was the river that brought him back home to Norfork following retirement. Norfork rewarded Betty and Bart for their commitment to the town this past May in selecting them as Grand Marshals in the Pioneer Day parade. In my conversation with Betty this morning after receiving the news that Bart had gone on to heavenly reward, she acknowledged the busy world that must be attended to even in times of sorrow. I will miss Bart's presence as will all others who knew and loved him, but his spirit will live on in my heart. His spirit directs me to speak of Bart in present tense even though I know it will be some time before we renew acquaintance. Life goes on. The river flows...
Others who have lost loved one's to Heaven's call during these past few months know the drill. Life is hectic. Life is busy. Life is crazy. Life goes on...
The river's ebb and flow in my part of the world is subject to man-made decisions relative to flood control, water supply, and hydroelectric power generation. These decisions all flow downstream. When man and Mother Nature find themselves at odds, some interesting hands are played at the river's poker table. One time that I remember the White River being "wider than a mile" was in December 1982. Viewing the river from the levee on the outskirts of Newport, the scene was more reminiscent of Lake Michigan than it was of a meandering delta stream.
As a kid I often swam in the river. I learned to water ski in the cut-off near Jacksonport. I camped out many times with my Boy Scout troop near Guion in Izard County and Allison in Stone County where Sylamore Creek meets the White. The river is a "dream maker" for a young boy. In an instant it can also be a "heart breaker." Childhood friend Walter Bundy losing his life in the river comes quickly to mind. Yes, the river floods my mind with memories... It takes me where it wants me to go.
Once I enter your magical stream, "wherever you're going, I'm going your way."
Two drifters off to see the world
There's such a lot of world to see
With these two lines I can't help but think about my friends, Bart and Betty. These two, married for 59 years, did quite a bit of traveling and saw "a lot of world" along the way. Bart is now on a heavenly journey discovering new dance steps. Betty will be in the accompaniment of family and friends with precious memories of her fellow 'drifter' tied up neatly by her heartstrings. Toward the end of their journey, they returned to the river's edge where Bart's boyhood dreams were fired up. They knew 'home is where the heart is.'
I love to travel. Just recently Kathryn and I took a happy trip to Chicago. We viewed the world from high atop the Willis Tower (formerly the Sears Tower) and stepped out on the ledge 103 floors above the city sidewalks. Breathtaking! We enjoyed lunch at the Signature Lounge on the 96th floor of the John Hancock Building overlooking the Navy Pier and Lake Michigan. Views far different from what we have here at home. The nightlife in the jazz and blues clubs lit me up and the cityscapes are a real change of pace for a country boy. We attended church at the First United Methodist Church at the Chicago Temple, the oldest church in Chicago being founded in 1831. The Gospel Choir on that Sunday morning ignited my spirit. Yet when we return to the serenity of our river view from atop the bluff in Baxter County, I am content. I know why Bart came back to this place. There is no better vantage point from which "to see the world."
We're after the same rainbow's end...
Waiting 'round the bend
My huckleberry friend
Moon River and me
I'm pretty sure we are all chasing "the same rainbow's end." I'm equally sure that our expectations are different. After all, I'm chasing my dreams, not yours.
Those of us from Newport are familiar with this river. I'm thinking others know the river's flow regardless of the river's name. From its headwaters to its mouth, the river tells a story. I believe it appropriate that the story begins as an idea in the river's mind, its 'headwaters,' and the end of the story exudes from its mouth.
Along the river's route, we find interesting characters who make life worth living. 'Round every bend in the river there can be a surprise. During this year, on more than one occasion, I jumped off my imaginary raft onto the banks of the river at Newport to reminisce a bit in the company of friends.
In May I attended the 80th birthday party of my dear friend and subsitute mom, Elteaser "Eltea" Balentine. Her children (Ernest, Jr., Sewana, Gloria, Kay, Sherman, and Tanja) and grandchildren hosted a wonderful get together for family and friends at the train depot in downtown Newport. Abundant stories of love for Eltea were being told in every corner of the room. Eltea came to work for my family when she was 19 and I was an infant. Of course, I was oblivious to the world around me and Eltea's circumstances during those early years. Much later did I realize the sacrifices she made to support her own family and to aid my family when she was a young woman. She has a tireless work ethic. I will always remember her attentive and loving care. She made special effort to attend the Jackson County Historical Association's Storyteller event in October 2011 when I was a participant. I love Eltea and her family and cherish the friendship we share.
In July I once again stumbled onto the golf course at the Newport Country Club to laugh a lot among friends. Playing golf in the annual Invitational tournament is secondary to the laughter. High school friends and college pals return from points around the globe to enjoy one another's company using golf as an excuse. I have missed this fun event only once since 1983. Sign me up for 2013!
In August I witnessed the induction of Sonny Burgess (NHS Class of '48), Dr. Charles Donaldson (BHS Class of '65), Charles Ray (NHS Class of '77), and the late Justin Brown (NHS Class of '95) into the Newport School District's Hall of Fame. This event is a genuine 'feather in the cap' for Newport.
When I was a youngster, Sonny Burgess was one of my baseball coaches. Later, in my teen years, was I surprised to discover that he was a recording star who would become a Rock-a-billy Hall of Famer and legendary rock star. Sonny and his band, the Pacers, made a trip to Mountain Home in September to play at the Sheid, a fabulous music venue. I spent a good part of the afternoon before their performance visiting with Sonny, Bobby Crafford, Kern Kennedy, Jim Aldridge, and Fred Douglas. They brought the house down!
Dr. Charles Donaldson is the older brother of high school pal Robert Donaldson and has enjoyed a distinguished career in education. He is a Vice-Chancellor at UALR. Dr. Donaldson is the first inductee into the Newport School District Hall of Fame who is a graduate of W. F. Branch High School. I enjoyed a good visit with his brother Robert at Eltea's birthday bash.
Rear Admiral Charles Ray has had a long career with the U. S. Coast Guard and is currently overseeing operations in Hawaii. Interestingly enough, Kathryn and I found ourselves seated adjacent to the Admiral's aide at a luau on the island of Oahu last January. A friendly conversation led to the discovery of the fewer than six degrees of separation we both had with Newport's Charles Ray.
Justin Brown departed this life at a very early age, but he left a legacy of good deeds and outstanding accomplishments. I have enjoyed a long standing friendship with Justin's family. His grandparents, Ruth and Cleveland Brown, were and are wonderful folks. I worked with Justin's mom, Regina, at Merchants & Planters Bank during the late '80s, and his stepfather, Robert Lake, is a fast friend and high school classmate.
All in all, four individuals most deserving of the recognition bestowed upon them by the Newport School District Charitable Foundation. Go Hounds! And Go Pirates! 'Round every bend in the river, the unexpected awaits.
I am thankful for the characters in my life. I am thankful for the life experiences we shared together and apart...pursuing and fulfilling our own dreams. I remember those whose journeys were cut short. I think of those whose journeys have been interrupted and delayed by hardship.
I am thankful for those who first introduced me to the magic of the river and the experiences of Mason's Bend, Budweiser Beach, the Cut-off. Crossing the river "in style" on a ferry with my dad. Watching a deer swim the river at Guion in the company of fellow scouts. Canoeing the river with friends. Observing the art of a fly fisherman's cast.
Two years ago Kathryn and I attended the Andy Williams' Christmas Show at the Moon River Theater in Branson. Just as you would picture Andy Williams, there he was in a colorful sweater shuffling through the show and singing Christmas carols at the age of 82. It wasn't much different than watching him on television so many years ago. His distinctive voice was the same as I have always known. Andy Williams departed this life in September, but "Moon River" fills my heart waves.
In my mother's record collection, I have the soundtrack from "Breakfast at Tiffany's." She liked Henry Mancini's music and particularly enjoyed the soundtrack from this iconic film. My mom liked good music...and "Moon River" is good music. It is one of those songs on the soundtrack of my life. It is difficult to embrace the fact that 51 years have passed since Johnny Mercer put lyrics to Mancini's melody and Audrey Hepburn brought the song to us on screen. It has been 50 years since Andy Williams covered the song and made it his own.
As I look downstream, I can 'see' those family members and my "huckleberry friends" who have paddled 'round the bend and out of sight from present day. The current carries me closer.
The river's path between Norfork and Newport is dotted with safe havens and connections to home. Long time friend Marcus Jones can be found 'down by the riva' at Mountain View, good friends Cindy and Gene Sweat have a place near Melbourne, and sweet friend Alannette Hare is smack dab on the river's edge at Oil Trough. I'm sure there are others camped out on the river between here and there. Think I'll plan a float trip...
But before I do that I have a Thanksgiving meal awaiting me that is sure to be much fun with children and grandchildren all around. I can already hear the laughter! I am thankful for my wife and fellow 'drifter,' Kathryn, who captains a 'tight' ship. I am thankful for all the many blessings that brighten my life, but most importantly for those I know as family and friends. Some have been paddling alongside me on the river of life for quite a long time, others have just recently pushed their canoes into the stream.
I'm paddlin'... I'm just upstream from Newport about 90 miles... Yet I remain Miles from Nowhere...
"Wherever you're going, I'm going your way..."
Happy Thanksgiving!!!
joe
