Arkansas – Sept 2019

Alpha and Liza at Flyway Brewing in Little Rock

We finally managed a trip back to Arkansas in coordination with Liza’s mother Alpha, to spend some time with family, but also to see some sights that had escaped us on many prior visits. We met up with Alpha in Dallas (thank you American Airlines for neither flight being late) and continued on to Little Rock. After telling the rental car company no, we don’t really want the behemoth SUV to drive down the road (seriously, a choice between an Expedition and an Armada … what are we, the Spanish off in search of gold?) we stopped in for “dinner” at the Flyway Brewing Company in Little Rock before continuing on to Hot Springs.

Continue reading “Arkansas – Sept 2019”

More Arkansas Travels

Six weeks in Arkansas — what to do?

Three or four times in my childhood, that was the dilemma. We were in Bismarck, Arkansas (whether the town was named for Otto von Bismarck, the first chancellor of the modern German empire (1871-1890), was never clear), in the heat of summer (except for the one time we went in mid-February for Grandpa Bingham’s funeral; 1965?), ensconced in the home of whichever relative was willing to put us up and with whom we wanted to stay. Mom (and Lee) usually stayed with Grandma; I’d stay with Aunt Margaret or Uncle Melvin; and Luci would stay with Uncle Melvin, too, except for the one year she snubbed us all and went back to Dallas with Uncle Lindsey instead. We’d get settled in, look around, and then think — what now?

Continue reading “More Arkansas Travels”

Arkansas and Childhood Train Adventures

When I was a child back in the 1960s, we never took vacations the way I imagined other families vacationed, where summertime meant everyone packed into the car, a jovial sweater-clad father would steer us down the highways and byways of the great American West, visiting national parks and other natural wonders, with mother navigating by AAA maps and my older sister Luci and I (and later my younger brother Lee) playing games and tormenting one another in the back seat of the car (preferably Dad’s big black 1959 Buick LeSabre). No, we were different.

Continue reading “Arkansas and Childhood Train Adventures”