Sydney Avey
Dynamic Woman — Changing Times
Alien Landscape: Finding charm in peculiar places
To my eyes, Arkansas is an alien landscape. After many visits to the Ozarks to see my sweet mother-in-law, I still approach the terrain as if I were a curious extraterrestrial.
Places I call home stretch from the California coast to the Sonoran desert. The textures of my worlds are soft redwood bark, gnarled oakwood, and crunchy pine needle carpets, sand and sea, spiny cactus that house wrens, sport vivid blooms in season, and give mute testimony to nature’s resilience.
The north central part of Arkansas features woodsy ridges, stone bluffs, and quiet cow pastures dotted with ponds. Except for the early spring dogwoods that show off like debutantes assured of the spotlight, there’s a preternatural stillness in the countryside. In town, there’s a sameness that mystifies me. Little changes year to year.
In my world, speech rapid fires information at people. I can’t be in the Ozarks for five minutes before my speech wants to shift into low gear and enjoy the ride. Words stretch out in the air, elongating around the vowels. Sentences hang out a bit or repeat themselves for effect, inviting listeners to “come on in and set a spell.” If you adjust to the languor, it can be delightful change of pace.
Being “from off”
In California and Arizona, most people have come from an alien landscape. They come for the jobs, the weather, the natural resources, or the amenities. We define ourselves by our interests. Easy come, easy go; we westerners are very mobile.
The glue that binds people together in Stone County is a stickier brand of adhesive. In the Ozarks, people define themselves by family relations. They are Aveys or Hinkles or Webbs. People who weren’t born in the county are “from off.” It is said kindly, mischievously even, but my sense is that we aliens are thought of as being “from off” in more ways than the mere misfortune of our having been born elsewhere.
I heard a new colloquialism this visit. Stone County is a dry county. That means you can’t buy liquor inside the county line, but you may be in possession. Our B&B hosts made reference to such a purchase, noting that it was fine so long as you don’t bring too much across the border. “You go to Mexico to buy beer and wine?” My mouth dropped open. “No, the next county,” she answered. Oh. I’ve never thought of a county line as a border, only a legislative function of urban sprawl.
Other charms. We took mom to see her doctor because she was hobbling around on sore feet. “C’mon in here beauty queen,” he drawled, inviting us into his examining room. He didn’t sit in front of a computer and enter data, he talked to us! Then, in a beautiful act of doctoring, he got down on his knees, on the floor, and tenderly clipped her neglected toenails.
Do our borders define us? Many diverse cultures are scattered within our country. Some of us set our borders farther out than others. Still, no matter where we draw the lines we are all a little “off” in someone’s eyes. Rather than take offense, I say, vive la différence! It’s a good thing to step across a border with an expectation that it is you who must adjust to a new normal for a week, or a season, or a lifetime. It is growth.
In 1977 I spent nearly 3 weeks “immersed” in southern life in the Nashville area. Staying with friends, before the end of day one my speech began to slip into a drawl. It happens with remarkable ease. It is a “lazy” way of speaking that is not only relaxing, but carries with it a different attitude, outlook and perspective. Caution:when visiting the south, those of us “from off” should not assume that “slow”means “stupid,” although most southerners are happy to let us think that. I had much to accomplish. To help out, my friends loaned me their second car, a beat up Ford Pinto. At that time and place, most of the people I encountered could not have been more open and friendly. Having spent most of the last decade plus in places like Chicago, Berkeley and San Francisco, it took me back to earlier times in semi-rural Los Altos. Yes the landscape was alien, but, ignoring the humidity and jumbo-sized insects, it also felt oddly comfortable. For a while I was able to bury in some other part of my being the guarded cynicism one develops when living in a more urban environment. Not always the case for me, conversation with strangers came easily. By the end of my stay, to my ear I sounded as if I had been there my entire life. Arriving back home, my spouse’s first remark was “who are you?” It didn’t matter, it was my turn to take care of the dog and cats. Within a couple of days my speech had returned to “normal” and she was off to visit family and friends in Chicago (fortunately with the kids in tow). Talk about alien landscapes.
Great story Doug! Cultural immersion. Love your point that people sometimes allow others to think what they choose.
That experience and my passions for history and music spawned many wonderful trips to the South over the years, usually in February, March or April. Our favorites are probably Texas and Louisiana. There is a lot I like about the South. However, when you line up the pros and the cons, it is overwhelming. I would have no desire to live there. It is difficult to abandon your roots, even when you feel you are no longer “in sync” with what they (and you) have become. When I felt that I no longer wished to be defined by the SF Bay Area, I moved – but not very far.
Beautiful writing Sydney . I really got a feeling for Arkansas – warm, slow, languid (love that word). A much slower and kinder way of living.
Thanks Sue. It took me a few years to see the unique charm of the Ozarks but I’ve grown to appreciate its quiet beauty. Glad I could take you on a quick tour!
Hi Sydney: Hope that you are well. Sharing thoughts about your experience gave me a glimpse into a place I have not been, but hope to visit someday. Reading your post took me back 40 years when I attended college in a very small town in S.D. which was indeed a very different world from the one I knew in Philadelphia, PA. Thanks
Thanks for your comment, Mary. These experiences enlarge our perspective and enrich our lives, don’t they? If you visit, see Blanchard Caves, the Folk Center, and the ribs place heading out of town. Can’t miss it, it’s bright purple!