Postcard From Graphic - Small Town America





Graphic Road

The other day, I found myself driving through Graphic, Arkansas again. It was a place I had driven through a couple of months ago, in late fall. To say Graphic is located "in the country" isn't accurate. Graphic is so far out in the boonies that "the country" is where these people go to kick up their hills on a Saturday night.

I was listening to the news on the satellite radio. Muslims were still killing people just because; Iran was thumbing its nose at the world and threatening to kill everybody in Israel and America, just because; a teenager in a high school killed some of his classmates because of some perceived slight; a little 4 year-old girl's body had finally been found after she had been kidnapped, sexually molested and killed; gas prices were getting higher because somebody wearing a towel on their head sneezed; everybody in American government was still acting like a spoiled 12-year-old who wasn't getting his way; and the love and pursuit of the all-mighty dollar was of higher priority than being nice to each other.

The Graphic store

In Graphic, the person driving the one car I saw raised 2 fingers and a nod of his head in greeting as we passed each other; the cows were still contented out in the fields; when I stopped in and bought a coke at the Graphic Store, the girl behind the counter smiled, asked how I was doing, and said, "Have a nice day" as I walked out the door.

I stood in the empty parking lot and realized, there's no noise. I heard a couple of birds singing and, well, that was it. No cars, no airplanes overhead, nobody shouting, no hustle and bustle. I realized that except for the leaves having fallen from the trees, it was exactly the same as when I stopped here a couple of months ago.

Fall colors just outside Graphic

I opened the door to my truck, turned off CNN, popped in my newest CD and listened to the soothing sounds of Ale Garofalo - soothing music of Ale Garofalo. I sat in the seat with the door open, listening to "The Giant Trees" and slowly drank my Dr. Pepper. The first time I came through Graphic was basically an accident, a wrong turn. This time I was here simply because it was on my way to some other remote little town with an interesting name. I'll come back again in the spring, this time on purpose. I'm pretty sure, except for the new leaves on the trees, it will be exactly the same. I'm counting on it.


Bridge on the way out of Graphic



Even the cows seem to be very contented with
 life in Graphic.



 

Jenny Lind & Father's Day

Down this road the Mother of Father's Day
was born.



The first official Father’s Day was celebrated on June 19, 1910, in Spokane, Washington, but a tiny, almost forgotten little town in Arkansas had a hand in this holiday. Sonora Louise Smart Dodd, known as the “Mother of Father’s Day” was born in Jenny Lind on February 18, 1882, to a Civil War veteran and his wife, the daughter of a farmer. When she was 5 years old, the family moved to Spokane where Sonora resided until her death in 1978.

Not many houses remain in Jenny Lind today and 
of those remaining, many look like this one.

After her mother’s early death in 1898, 16-year-old Sonora helped her father raise her 6 younger brothers. She began petitioning to make Father’s Day a nationally recognized holiday in 1909. After listening to a church sermon about Mother’s Day, she suggested to the YMCA and Spokane Ministerial Association the establishment of an equal holiday to honor fathers. Thirteen days later, on June 19, 1910, the first Father’s Day was celebrated in Spokane.

The old Jenny Lind school.

For over 20 years the holiday evoked mixed emotions. Congress refused President Woodrow Wilson’s desire to make the holiday official for fear it would become too commercialized. The holiday was not recognized as an annually observed holiday until 1971 when President Richard Nixon officially designated Father’s Day as the 3^rdSunday of every June.