Listing Through Life

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.

I explored this park on a surprisingly cool morning and had it to myself most of the time.

It’s a typical BCP park on a small lake on Crowley’s Ridge. I walked out on the fishing pier and took this shot to the north.

And this shot to the south with the dam in the left distance.

I picked a trail at random. It bordered the lake all the way to the northern end where Big Creek drains into it.

I drove to the campground part of the park, closer to the dam, then went to the small visitor center/gift shop to get my passport stamped. The desk housed a tank for a Speckled Kingsnake.

We visited here just for the passport stamp. It’s definitely a BCP park, with one short trail sandwiched in.

We stopped in the tiny visitor center/gift shop to get my passport stamped. There were three fish tanks with live snakes on a shelf, and was chatted with the girl behind the desk while guessing what they were. We came pretty close on all three. This one is a Speckled Kingsnake.

My wife wasn’t interesting in a mile-long hike through insect-infested woods, and frankly, neither was I, especially since it was around 90 and humid.  We drove down to the lake, where I got out and took this photo.

And that was it. I’m not sure I earned my stamp at this one, but there really isn’t much here to see and do.

Our chief reason for visiting Wilson was to see this museum and get my passport stamp.

The museum lined the walls of one room — and that was it.

Some guy named Hampson was working on his land and found the remains of an Indian village that existed from A.D. 1400 to 1650. He did some archeology himself and invited some pros.  What they found is on display here — arrowheads and pottery mostly.

And more pottery.

This diorama explained the game of “Chunky.”

It all felt very similar to what I’d just seen at Plum Bayou and Parkin, the state’s other two archeological sites, and I’m not sure there’s a reason for the state to have three parks. We were in an out in less than half an hour.