Autumn in (and about) Arkansas

by Pat Laster

Still blooming on Couchwood Hill are Encore azaleas (spotty—I didn’t feed them), crape myrtle, dianthus, variegated wandering jew, Wave petunias (revived from a spring planter), common begonia, yellow zinnias, pink mini roses, Mandevilla (only a few), 7 yucca torches, oxalis, abelia, mums, purple monkey grass, a lone lamb’s ear and a community of yellow wildflowers.
The beautyberries are so dense and heavy that the bush umbrellaed to the ground, providing a haven for three kittens that magically appeared a few weeks ago.
It’s about time I used some of the information collected in what I’m calling a Compendium of Journal Jottings. The rest of the column includes items collected from my readings under the heading of “Around Arkansas.” Readings include the Arkansas Democrat Gazette, Arkansas Times, The Saline Courier, The Amity Standard, Harper’s and New York Times Book Review.
* The position of the state poet laureate was established October 10, 1923, by concurrent resolutions of both houses of the Legislature. Charles T. Davis was the first person named to the post.
* Camp Magnolia in southern Arkansas was where religious conscientious objectors were housed during WWII.
* William Sebastian, namesake of Sebastian County, began his US Senate career in 1947 as the 30th Congress’ youngest senator at age 37.
* Ten counties (as of April 1 2011) operate with two judicial districts and dual courthouses. Carroll and Clay are two of them.
*2011 is the first time in Arkansas history that counties were split when [congressional] district lines were drawn after the 2010 census. Four are in the northwest counties of Crawford, Sebastian, Newton and Searcy.
* According to the latest census, Arkansas has a population of 2, 915, 918.
*Johnny Cash’s family moved to Dyess in 1935 when he was three.
*Dyess Colony was established in 1934 as an agricultural resettlement community under the Works Progress Administration and the Federal Emergency Relief
Administration. More than 500 homes dotted the 15,000 acres in east Mississippi County.
* Under Arkansas law, the death of someone missing for more than three years may be proved by such circumstantial evidence and a death certificate (ordered by a judge) issued.
* Lake Atlanta in Rogers was built in the mid-1930s as a Works Progress Administration project.
*Since 2008, Arkansas has received eleven disaster declarations for tornadoes, floods, snowstorms, ice storms and remnants of three hurricanes.
* For the next fiscal year (beginning in July, 2011), there will be 76,137 positions in our state government.
*An average (in 2011) of from ten-to thirteen-thousand gamblers visit Southland’s casinos on any given Saturday. The Saturday after the Mississippi casinos closed due to flooding, 20,000 visitors came.
*Interstate 40 is 284 miles long.
* Since 1885, twenty-three Little Rock police officers have died in the line of duty.
* “Mid-way clay” lying 75 feet below Interstate 540 shrinks and swells more than other types of clay. (Talk about shape-shifting!) “The earth is very self-correcting. When it needs to move to relieve pressure, it’s going to move,” said Randy Ort, AHD
* Robbie Tilley Branscum, an Arkansan, won the 1982 Edgar Allen Poe Award for the best juvenile mystery, The Murder of Hound Dog Bates.
At this writing, autumn 2011 entered our calendars in as nearly perfect a seasonal temperature as is possible.
As Elizabeth Lawrence wrote, “Even if something is left undone, everyone must take time to sit still and watch the leaves turn.”

c 2011 Pat Laster dba lovepat press

Unfinished projects: what am I waiting for?

by Pat Laster

Before I try to talk out the answer to that question, here’s a PS to last week’s “millions” post that moves the ante up to billions.
A letter-to-the-editor in the state daily merits quoting. A. Luck of Maumelle wrote, “As a retired physicist, I’m pretty sure that among 100 billion galaxies, 100 billion stars [in] each, in about 14 billion years it’s very likely that there is or has been life someplace.”
And what about President Obama’s $447 billion jobs bill?
Now, to the title question. It might be more aptly called, “Projects-in-progress.” Same thing, but a less indicting phrase.
The hedge-trimmer with its 100 foot cord rests on the portable plastic box of novels I took from the car trunk when it had to go to the body shop. (A falling oak branch bashed in the roof.) The trimmer has been in the house for at least a week.
Plans were to continue bonzai-ing the boxwood by trimming the umbrella of leaved branches. Maybe it’s not boxwood but some type of non-stickery holly. These other two shrubs--compact, low growing-- beside these three taller bushes from which I’ve trimmed off the bottom branches, are more like boxwood.
The wheelbarrow has stood in the same place for at least two weeks where I worked on the north sassafras grove-rock garden. Darkness fell as I labored. Intending to take up the project the next day, I left all tools out, hidden by snipped branches of privet and sassafras sprouts. Since both species produce runners at the soil line, they appear wherever they find sun and room.
The two brush piles are a different matter. It has been too dry and they are too large to burn safely without several “hands” around to guard against spreading. I don’t want to risk doing what Dad did several autumns. While burning leaves, he set the woods ablaze.
I have thought to ask the nearby fire department officials if they needed to do a practice burn. But I procrastinate. For days and days, weeks and weeks.
One columnist friends reports that he works for five minutes and rests for ten. I work for one day and not again for ten days. He can see the results of his work better than I can.
Then there’s the paint job I began in the kitchen. Do I have the decorative plates and mugs attached to the space above the cupboard doors? No. Do I have a reason? No. The ladder rests on the back porch a dozen steps away. But I have begun collecting the items to be hung. Anyone want to take bets about when I’ll get them hung?
I may have a good reason not to finish these projects yet. Last October, to speed things along at a state meeting, I foolishly volunteered to act as the contest chairperson for the following year’s session. That meeting happens this October 15.
Sixteen-hundred-eighty-eight sheets of paper with 844 different poems have passed my hands several times already in preparation for awarding prizes (money-certificates) in 32 contests. All judges’ selections are in and I’ve begun stuffing the envelopes with checks.
Making out and signing 192 certificates will be the final step of this process.
Perhaps after National Poetry Day, I can finish my other projects.
c 2011, Pat Laster dba lovepat press

From dimes to dollars to hundreds to millions ...

by Pat Laster

When I was a child, the oldest of eight, at Christmas we would be given a whole dollar and allowed to shop in Sterling’s, a five-and-dime store. One dollar, at a dime each, was enough to buy every member of the family a special gift: A hankie for Mom, comb for Dad, barrettes for sisters, marbles for brothers, and writing paper for the teacher.
As we got older, we were given a dollar per gift. And after I began teaching school, I sometimes gave my college-age siblings a hundred dollars for Christmas!
Nowadays, spending a hundred dollars or more for two weeks of Schwan’s frozen foods is nearly a given, especially when Kid Billy is to be home from Henderson. Monthly expenses that top a hundred dollars are the tithe, the electricity bill, car- life- home insurance premiums, dental checkups, and the AT&T wireless statement.
Though no one I know claims to be worth a million dollars, it is not uncommon to see—in many news articles––figures of so-many million this or that. I haven’t yet taken an entire page of news and underlined every “million(s),” but I have jotted down many instances where the word is used–– either in a headline or in the body of the article.
Like not being able to fathom the ozone layer extending twenty miles, I can’t imagine anything in the millions except grains of sand, stars and gallons of water in each ocean. What follows are some sentences/statements that use the m-word.
• Wal-Mart employs 1.6 million people. Americans spend $36 million at Wal-Mart every hour of every day.
• In 1942, the Progressive Farmer had one million subscribers.
• Millions of Americans are out of work . . .
• A savings of $200 million will accrue by closing 3700 post offices.
• Construction on an $11 million apartment complex in west Little Rock began August 8 2011.
• The US sends $100 million in food aid to Africa.
• Twenty-four million people are receiving food aid in Kenya.
• The Arkansas Education Department is planning to carry over $36.2 million from last year’s budget to this year’s.
• Thirty-five million “unique” users in the US every single month come to MySpace, according to T. Vanderhook, CEO.
• There were 25 million landline telephones at June 2011’s end, down from 26 million at the end of 2010.
• Here’s a lottery prize of $99 million in Ohio.
• A man is accused of sending 27 million spam messages to Facebook users.
• Two million people lost power recently in the Southwest.
• A $1 million lottery prize was worth only (only??) $680,000 after state and federal taxes.
• A California woman won $9 million in the Super Lotto. . .
• Jon Huntsman, a 2012 presidential candidate, owns assets of between $16-$71 million.
• A header in Sunday’s paper: “Vikings lock Adrian Peterson into long-term deal; could be worth $100 million.”
About as many articles deal with figures in the billions of dollars, so that soon, perhaps, sports figures and presidential candidates will pull down and/ or be worth billions of dollars.
Unless, of course, a Depression occurs and the dime is once again the measure of wealth.

c 2011 Pat Laster dba lovepat press
Check out Laster's first novel, A Journey of Choice, at online book sellers.

Lest we forget-- one attempt to remember 9/11

by Pat Laster

One of my sisters is also a church musician, but in Arlington, Virginia near DC. She makes lemonade out of lemons. In her new position at a Presbyterian church in the area, she has begun another community chorus, the NoVA Lights Chorale.
The group’s inaugural performance is this Sunday, September 11. In honor and memory of this date in history, the chorus will present a program entitled, The World Sings for Peace. Preceding the concert, the NoVA Lights Community Handbell Choir will play Michael Helman’s “Prayer for Peace.”
Mr. Helman concludes his program notes with this paragraph: “The four opening chords of this piece represent the four planes that crashed that day. The chords include all 12 tones of the chromatic scale to symbolize the effect that terrorism has on everyone. My hope is that this composition may be a prayer for an end to terrorism, and for peace throughout the world.”
The northeastern section of our country is more diversified than the central part of the nation. Thus, musical programs are broader in depth, width and breadth.
A partial listing of the music follows by title, composer, history and, where necessary, a translation. Barbara has given me permission to share this with you.
“Da Pacem Cordium,” a traditional Latin text meaning ‘Give peace to every heart.’
The reading of a hymn written especially for the Tenth Anniversary of September 11th by Carolyn Winfrey Gillette, “O God, Our Hearts Were Shattered.” Her hymns can be found on the websites of many denominations.
“For Peace,” text and music by Jane Marshall and composed for the World Council of Churches’ Decade to Overcome Violence (2001-2010)
“Ose Shalom,” traditional Hebrew text; music by J. Leavitt. Translation: ‘The one who makes peace in the heavens, may he make peace for us, and for all Israel, and let us say Amen.’
“Workin’ for the Dawn of Peace” combines two Civil War songs arranged by R. Jeffers.
“Down by the Riverside,” with “I Got Peace Like a River” arranged by B. Adams.
“Like Rain Upon the Mown Field” is based on Psalm 72; music by K. Lee. Sung in Korean.
“Prayer of St. Francis,” the text attributed to St. Francis of Assisi; music by R. A. Bass.
“Amani,” text and music by A. Snyder. Swahili translation: ‘We are singing our song. This is our song of peace.’
“Iraqi Peace Song,” is a traditional Iraqi lullaby arranged by L. Tennenhouse. English interpretation by K. Iveland: ‘Peace to the world. Peace to my country, my love. Peace to your dreams. Peace to your children. Underneath the whispering trees, where our sons and daughters are free; in the beauty we will see through your eyes of peace.’
“Pacem,” traditional Latin, music by L. Dengler. Translation: ‘Give us peace. And on earth peace to all of good will.’
“Sing For Peace,” words and music by J. Papoulis & F. J. Nunez.
The penultimate selection is a reading by Rabbi Lia Bass, Etz Hayim Congregation of a selection from “Between the Fires,” by Rabbi A. Waskow. Rabbi Waskow directs The Shalom Center.
The final piece is the beloved hymn, “Let There be Peace on Earth.”
May your thoughts and mine be on ways to promote peace beyond merely singing and listening. Amen. #

An experience in fostering community

by Pat Laster

About this time of the summer when Kid Billy was seven, I served as choir director at a Presbyterian church. A retreat at Ferncliff Camp in southwestern Pulaski County had been planned for spiritual renewal of the attendees.
The weekend event featured a labyrinth painted (or attached) on the floor of the outdoor pavilion. Each participant was supposed to walk the labyrinth asking two questions: What do I seek? Where goeth this community (church)?

[A little background on the labyrinth: an online source says it dates back to prehistoric times; another says the Middle Ages. One Presbyterian Church’s website says a labyrinth is a path of prayer, a walking meditation, a crucible of change, a watering hole for the spirit and a mirror of the soul.]

In the early morning of the first full day, I left Billy abed—I’d told him the night before I was going to leave him sleeping and that I would leave the door unlocked.

Dr. P. was already on the path and I thought far enough away that it would be safe to begin. I folded my arms under my armpits. Others clasped their hands behind. I tried letting mine hang, but that didn’t feel right.
Walking, I concentrated on the markings on the floor. I didn’t have the freedom to gaze around at the flora as I did while on Feaster Trail in Arkadelphia where we lived.

I was aware of the questions but only in a corner of my mind. I don’t seek more than day-to-day experience. I don’t want to consider any farther than my/our own schedule—practicing the organ before Sunday; how to get Billy to his Papa’s birthday party this afternoon,etc.

As for the direction of this church (the best kept secret in the town), it can raise $73,000 in two or three months, but it won’t—we won’t—set media and attendance records because we won’t—will we?—succumb to the popular, evangelical stream of taped “Christian rock.”

With Bob’s (minister) studied,restrained persona and sermon delivery, folks won’t flock to hear him. And I’m thankful, because in this church setting (sanctuary) there’s a respectful, quiet,and introspective atmosphere, one conducive to worship. (Yes, Debbie, we do read prayers someone else has written.)

I can come closer to communion here—the conversation, the enveloping care of God and his people--than anywhere.

Back to the labyrinth. Sorry, but it didn’t help me center. I was concerned about running into Dr. P., which I did—unaware that the path was not quadrantly graphed; that at several junctures, it wandered into another quadrant. Also, I didn’t realize you had to—at the center—retrace your steps back to the outside.

I (cynically) see this as another fad, like in the schools through the years, something else to try, hoping those who’ve not tuned in to the status quo can barnacle on to one of them for a catchhold--a spiritual rope to keep in touch with God or to find whatever they seek.

What do I seek in this community? A place for Billy to grow, learn, to love and be loved and accepted; to learn the“holy acts.” For me, I seek to act out my thankfulness from the organ, through the organ.

Billy and community. Already today,he’s run to Dr. P, his “surrogate grandpa” with whom he sits in church, with whom he is learning to center, to listen, to sit still during children’ssermons.

Community or village, I’m thankful it is helping me raise Kid Billy.

And I hope the labyrinth experience is a watering hole for the spirit for other walkers. #

c September 2011 by Pat Laster dba lovepat press
plpalaster21@gmail.com