When I was a GM for Cracker Barrel, I made several trips East and West on I-40, passing through Arkansas on my way to and from my home store in Norman, OK.
I was obviously preoccupied, probably something-or-other job related, I’m sure. But this morning, as we hit the freeway, I got a chance to really look at the state.
It is gorgeous.
Green rolling fields and hills carpeted with thick, bountiful trees as far as the eyes can see. I stopped at three different rest stops and scenic views and I told Karen I wouldn’t mind living in one of them, THAT is how cool Arkansas is.
The only thing I can think of that gives me slight pause is a movie I once watched. It was about gruesome mayhem and torture with blood, guts, horror and maniacal butchery. Cannibalism was also commonplace as was unspeakable acts of depravity.
It was refreshing to see fat, hydrated cows cooling in the shade of the trees, or one of the beautiful creeks that flow through the ranch.
Just like in the children’s books.
So, moving eastward, we pass Lake Dardanelle, and it was beautiful when we drove by. I could very much envision myself in a boat on the water with a big fat doobie to assist with the navigation.
Arkansas is also home to the Razorbacks, and license plates with the red porkers were evident on both sides of the freeway. So were the red and white flags.
I really knew I was officially in Arkansas when two fans flipped me off after spying my Notre Dame license plate holder.
I used to love the Arkansas men’s basketball team when Nolan Richardson, their head coach, had them delivering “40 minutes of hell” on defense and winning the national championship in 1994.
Another thing about Arkansas is that I have probably interacted and spoken with 7 Arkansans (so far), and every single one of them are polite and amiable.
Again, if it were only closer to Karen’s sisters.
So, tomorrow we continue the journey, I think stopping somewhere in Indiana or Illinois.
Then the last leg will be to our destination, the Queen City of Cincinnati.
My beautiful dogs are straining our last nerves as they feel the need to protect the parameters of wherever we are staying.
The sky poked its head through the tufts of lazy clouds. It was baby blue, and of course, reminded me of the devastating George Strait song. This led to me blasting a bowl of Tropical Punch with its 28% THC content and then I played one of The Man’s other songs. I will def be posting Baby Blue at some time in the future as it is an awesome song. I probably play about six or seven George Strait tunes and I could probably figure out a half-dozen others.
So, for now, take a listen to my rendition of Baby’s Gotten Good at Goodbye and let me know.