One Dusty Track: Postcard From Graphic

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.