Listing Through Life

I found out about this museum the day before I visited when I was plotting my route to three state parks in northeastern Arkansas. And since it was right smack on my way home, I decided to stop.

It was tucked into a large building right on campus. I had to walk down 60 yards of hallway before I happened upon any displays. Those displays were the skeleton of a mastodon and a wall of info on the New Madrid Fault. There was a table and a stack of wooden blocks. You could use the blocks to build a structure on the table, then push a button to see the table shake and the structure fall down. I’m not sure how educational that is, but it was kinda fun.

The main section of the museum was upstairs, and that’s where it all began to feel very familiar. There was an exhibit on rockabilly music, which got its start in northeastern Arkansas. I’d just learned a lot about this at Guitar Park in Walnut Ridge and at Johnny Cash’s Boyhood Home.

Then there was a reproduction of an old town, with displays in the windows of general stores, doctor’s office, barber, etc., like I’ve seen in so many, many museums (nowhere better than the McKinley Presidential Museum in Canton, Ohio), much like I’d recently seen at the Faulkner County Museum.

They had exhibits on all the major industries of the Arkansas Delta — button-making, cotton-growing, lumbering, etc., like I just saw at the the Lower White River Museum, at Powhatan, at the Plantation Agriculture Museum …

Here’s something I can’t remember seeing before — a fireless field slow-cooker that heated food with preheated soapstone so that everybody could work in the field and nobody had to cook.

There were a lot of cabinets of Indian pottery, like I’ve recently seen at Plum Bayou, Parkin, and Hampson.

And there were a series of displays of artifacts from various wars, like I just saw at the Wings of Honor Museum.

Finally, they had several exhibit of very bedraggled and woebegone mounted birds and animals.

And they had this, which I haven’t seen before.

It took me about 30 minutes to see everything. If I had read everything, I would still be there. The walls were covered with text, much of which had very little to do with what was on display. I especially appreciated the woke take on barbershops.

I’m not sorry I visited. It was arranged pleasantly and, at times, interesting. It just all felt very familiar.

When I first decided to visit all the Arkansas state parks and complete my passport, I found out about this park and wondered what made it worth a visit. Now that I’ve been here, I know what makes it worth a visit — nothing.

The one acre park consists of a monument, two state park signs (one for doing a passport rub), a sign that tells about Herman Davis, and some benches. Ninety-eight percent of the park is visible in the next two photos. The part you can’t see is lawn.

Herman Davis was a hunter from northeast Arkansas who was drafted into the Army during WWI. Near Verdun, France, his company was pinned down by a German machine gun nest. Davis crept forward on his belly and killed the Germans. On three other occasions, he killed a lot of Germans, due largely to his skill with a rifle.  He received a lot of  medals and was considered by General John J. Pershing to be the fourth-greatest American hero of the war.

He was gassed several times, and four years after getting home, he died of tuberculosis. He is buried at the base of the monument, which was erected in 1925.

As General George Patton said, “The object of war is not to die for your country, but to make the other guy die for his.” Herman Davis achieved that goal. A monument? Sure. But a state park? Why? I’m sure Arkansas has produced a lot of other heroes who don’t have their own state parks.

Davis was only 5’3″. The statue is life-sized.

I’m not really complaining. It’s parks like this one, Conway Cemetery, and the Lower White River Museum that make the passport quest quixotic and weird.

20 years ago now (wow!) I embarked on a quest to visit all the remaining Dog n Suds restaurants. At the time there were 15. It’s now down to seven. One of these, surprisingly, is in Paragould, Arkansas. I say surprising because, on my first visit, the place had a soon-to-be-out-of-business vibe.

That visit was so unspectacular, that I never made an effort to return, even though I now live in Arkansas. But when my other adventures on this day took me right through Paragould right at lunchtime, I decided to give it another try.

So far as I can tell, not a thing has been changed or updated since my first visit almost 18 years ago. Based on photos I’ve seen online, the neon is still out in half the sign. The intercom system, which I described as “antiquated” is now kaput. You can still order from your car by dialing a phone number, but I opted for eating inside.

From my booth, there wasn’t one single bit of Dog n Suds branding that I could see. I could, however, see the menu of Salvadoran foods available at this location, which seemed very NOT Dog n Suds.

Much of the traditional menu is still available, so I ordered a bacon cheeseburger, fried mushrooms, and, of course, a root beer.

Alas, thanks to my last bout of Covid, I can no longer taste a lot of sweet things. The root beer only gave me a hint of what I knew it tasted like.

The burger was a typical diner burger, which means it wasn’t bad. The mushrooms were delicious. After I ate, I looked around for any branding and found floor mats.

And the sign painted on the window that was there 18 years ago.

It was much busier this time. The small dining area was about two-thirds full, and I saw one of the waitresses heading outside with to-go bags several times. But it was still sad. Considering that I can no longer taste the root beer, the only reason to return is nostalgia, and that isn’t a good enough reason to drive all the way to Paragould.

Will this be the last time I ever eat at a Dog n Suds?

This park is six miles north of Lake Frierson. It too is basically a BCP park with some trails. They make a big deal of their CCC-constructed buildings — so much that they put one on their sign.

I’ve decided this shirt makes me look like Forrest Gump.

I visited the park in November, 2022, and walked all the trails, so I didn’t feel like I needed to do a lot today to earn my passport stamp. I walked the trail around Lake Ponder — named after some guy, in case you were pondering. The CCC Pavilion sits back of the swim beach.

Built in 1937. The second level is a dance floor. For some reason this struck me as cool, so I did a little dance. No I didn’t. but I did take this photo. I tried to picture what it looked like on an evening in 1937 with couples dancing to big band music.

On Christmas day in 1825, Ben Crowley and his family settled on the land above the spring that now feeds Lake Ponder. He was a veteran of the War of 1812, and the government gave him a 160-acre land grant instead of pay. His five sons and a bunch of other family members built nearby and started a community. There’s a monument to him behind the pavilion, near an old cemetery, and a historical marker. The plate at the base of the marker (right in the photo below) reads: “Benjamin Crowley 1758-1842 The man for whom Crowley’s Ridge is named.”

There was a huge inflatable maze/obstacle course thing by the swim beach that would have been a riot when I was a teen, although it sorta ruined the rustic ambiance.

Walcott Lake is a very man-made-looking man-made lake.

When I was here in 2022, I walked the trail along the edge and took a photo looking down from the ridge to the flat delta farmland below. It shows how little a rise it takes to be a notable feature in this part of the country.

Also in 2022, I walked the Dancing Rabbit Trail, mostly because I thought the name was funny. The bridge is on that trail.