NOVEMBER 2013 • ATURBANMAGAZINE.COM

WHOOPIE

BUCK TRADITIONIs your dressing ready for a makeover? Want to trade your green bean casserole for something with a little more pizzazz? We’ve gathered some of the best recipes of the season, along with tips to make your Thanksgiving Day a whole lot easier.

FRESH SCENT OF FALLThe simplest DIY/hostess gift we’ve yet to uncover. Make one to give away and one to keep. It could be your next favorite thing!

THE LAST DAYS OF SERGEANT GRADYJim Grady recently traveled 5,000 miles to say a proper goodbye to his father who lost his life in World War II. His story is filled with heartbreak, the kindness of strangers, and the absolute love of family.

UNWIND AT STONEWINDReconnect with nature and spend the night in a yurt. We found a gem of a place that lets you do both, in some of the most breathtaking land in Arkansas.

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3811 Rogers Avenue, Suite B, Fort Smith, AR 72903.

EDITOR-IN-CHIEFCatherine Frederick

MANAGING EDITORMarla Cantrell

CONTRIBUTING WRITERSBryce AlbertsonMarla CantrellMarcus CokerCatherine FrederickDoug KelleyAnita Paddock

CONTRIBUTING PHOTOGRAPHERSCatherine FrederickMark MundorffJeromy Price

DESIGNERJeromy Price

PROOFREADERCharity Chambers

DESIGN INTERNKristina Davis

WEB GURUDavid Jamell

PUBLISHERRead Chair Publishing, LLC

FOLLOW US

ADVERTISING INFORMATIONCatherine Frederick479 / 782 / 1500Catherine@AtUrbanMagazine.com

EDITORIAL INFORMATIONMarla Cantrell479 / 831 / 9116Marla@AtUrbanMagazine.com

©2013 Read Chair Publishing, LLC. All rights reserved. The opinions contained in @Urban are exclusively those of the writers and do not represent those of Read Chair Publishing, LLC. as a whole or its affiliates. Any correspondence to @Urban or Read Chair Publishing, LLC., including photography becomes the property of Read Chair Publishing, LLC. @Urban reserves the right to edit content and images.

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CONTENTS

These days, we gather at my house. And at my house, it’s ALL

about the food. Everyone has their favorite dish, and Lord have

mercy if someone’s favorite dish doesn’t make it to the table! I’d

hate to see what would happen if I replaced the whole turkey

with a bunch of sliced sandwich meat and some white bread.

That’s why we dedicated an entire section this month to holiday

food. And not just any holiday food. We’re inviting you to buck

tradition with some jazzed up versions of Thanksgiving Day

classics. We’re also offering you an alternative to a Plain Jane

place card – Ahoy Maties! – and we’re showing you the most

adorable kids’ table we’ve ever come across.

But that’s just beginning. We’re also taking you to a spot in

Arkansas where all your worries melt away, and you can spend

an evening soaking in a hot tub and reconnecting with nature.

We’re taking you to Rogers, Arkansas to meet a man called Babe,

who started a family business that has customers as far away as

Denmark interested in his work.

It wouldn’t be November without sending our sincere thanks to

all those currently in the military, and all the veterans who’ve

served our great country. Don’t miss our story about a Fort

Smith man who spent his life missing the father who flew away

to fight for freedom and never returned.

And that’s where we leave you, with tips for the holidays

and heartfelt stories to help you reflect on all you have to

be grateful for. You know what makes us eternally grateful?

Readers like you who support what we do, who tell us each

month how much you love these stories from the South, and

send us notes telling us you’ve tried one of our recipes, read a

book we recommended, or made one of our DIY’s. Thank you,

thank you, thank you. And happy, stress-free (or as close as it

can possibly be) Thanksgiving!

To reserve this free space for your charitable non-profit organization, email: Editors@AtUrbanMagazine.com

November is finally here, which means Thanksgiving is just a

few short weeks away. It also means I need to drag myself out

of this candy corn coma and get busy planning. I’m not going to

sugar coat the holidays. I know some of you look forward to the

barrage of visitors, or house-hopping from town to town, while

others do not. The latter would probably rather be holed up in a

closet guzzling wine straight from the bottle. At least I’ve heard

there are people who do that.

When I was a kid, Thanksgiving sure seemed easier. Probably

because I did nothing but show up with my mom, then I’d run

through my grandmother’s house with all my cousins, screaming

like a bunch of wild banshees, while the grown-ups sat around

talking and laughing. None of the kids ever got in trouble. I’m

pretty sure the grown-ups were all guzzling their own adult

beverages and didn’t really care what we did - as long as no one

lost a limb.

Back then, the Thanksgiving meal (and the clean-up) was a lot

less stressful than it is now. My family didn’t cook anything in

the oven. Nothing. Everyone came to my grandmother’s house

for potluck, and if you brought a dish, you took it home to wash

it. The meal consisted of meat and cheese trays. Chips and

cheese dip. Brownies. We ate on paper plates. The truth is, we

weren’t there for the food and we didn’t need fancy trimmings.

We just wanted to be together.

letter from Catherine 05

In a corner booth, we sit

side by side,

thighs touching,

both glancing nervously

toward a manic buzzing trapped

between the seat and window,

fearful

of the wasp that brings us closer

unknowingly

for the last time

before the waitress kills it

as our way of showing thanks

for this gift of one last perfect,

imperfect moment

to savor together

in disquieted delight.

Sunday Breakfast@lines Bryce Albertson

lifestyle 07

YeagersHardware.com

Deborah ClarkCo-owner

Yeagers Hardware

About Our Family BusinessMy business is Yeagers Hardware, which I own with my dad, Ed Yeager. We have four locations in Van Buren, Fort Smith, and Greenwood. We pride ourselves on having the items that are hard to find or that we can find and special order for you. We have everyday low prices and hometown service. When you shop with local businesses, the money you spend is invested back into your hometowns. My family is proud of the ways we’ve been able to help the Van Buren Public Library, the Van Buren Boys and Girls Clubs, and the many cancer causes we support in honor of my sister, Karen Windsor. I am proud to be a third generation owner of a family business and think retail gets a bad rap! It’s a really fun job.

This month we’re opening Seasons, which is a home, garden and gift store located at 910 Broadway in Van Buren. This is the site of our very first Yeagers Hardware store that my grandfather, Ernest Yeager, built in 1959. It’s also where I worked as a teen, so it’s very special to me that I’m able to continue a family business in that same spot. You’ll find everything from jewelry to outdoor lawn furniture. The exact opening date can be found on our Yeagers and Seasons Facebook pages. Come see us!

3 things Deborah can’t live without

Favorite food as a child? Pizza and my mom’s chocolate pie.

What’s the first thing you bought with your own money? When I was in junior high, our Yeagers store in Van Buren was across the street from a clothing store named Hays and King. I would walk across the street at lunch and blow my paycheck on clothes.

Last book you read? And the Mountains Echoed by Khaled Hosseini.

Last road trip? We took our kids to San Antonio over spring break.

Strangest place you’ve called the Hogs? On a Caribbean cruise.

If you could have a super power, what would it be? If I had a Jesus-type superpower, it would be healing the sick. If it was a Marvel superhero superpower, it would be flying.

Most sentimental thing you own?I have a collection of gloves, pins, hankies, a locket, ladies compact, hair pins, and purse that are from my great-grandmother, grandmother, and mom that are framed in shadow boxes.

What did you want to grow up to be?Interior designer, and I was for two years in Little Rock. I came back to work at Yeagers when I was twenty-four, and I honestly can’t imagine ever doing anything else.

What smell reminds you of home?Roses, because it reminds me of when my sister, Karen, and I were kids.

What’s the one dish you have to have at Thanksgiving? Pecan pie.

What’s the last album you bought? Florida Georgia Line’s Here’s to the Good Times.

What do you collect?Christmas ornaments and ornaments from various places we’ve visited on vacation. I also collect quotes, anything from friends’ funny quips to inspirational quotes.

Is there any item of clothing you wish would come back into fashion?It wouldn’t be fashion, but I sure loved my 80s big hair!

Who was your favorite teacher?I had two favorite teachers at Van Buren High School, Mr. John Cutsinger, my journalism teacher, taught me so much about writing, and my art teacher, Mrs. Tonia Holleman. She was a fabulous teacher, and all the kids thought she was really fun and cool.

Favorite Bible verse?Paul’s letter to the Corinthians, 1 Corinthians 13: 4-8, that starts with “Love is patient and kind.” I’m not very patient so I have to remind myself of that and all of the qualities love has that I need to work to exhibit.

What was your first car?A silver Chevy Malibu that didn’t even have FM stereo or a cassette player. My kids would die.

What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done for someone? I’ve bailed someone out of jail.

Favorite song from your teenage years? “Seasons in the Sun” by Terry Jacks.

What are the three best decisions you’ve made?I married Scott Clark in 1990, I came back to work at Yeagers in 1990, and I decided I wanted to have kids after all, when I was in my thirties.

Work hard,play hard.

Samsung Galaxy Note Diet Coke Post-It notes

UPCLOSE&PERSONAL 09

Weaving Happiness@story Marla Cantrell@images Mark Mundorff

10 lifestyle

Jan Bryant is bracing for another winter in Arkansas. It’s a season

she loves. Time slows down, the land around her settles in, no

longer needing mowing, no longer needing weeding, and she

has time at her loom. In a nearby room, stacks of fabric wait:

old bed sheets, blue jeans worn soft from wear, the last yard of

fabric she found in the discount bin at a local store.

These pieces she will turn into rugs and placemats and table

runners that she sells at the Fayetteville Farmers’ Market. She

takes the material, cuts it with a rotary blade into even strips

that are then sewn together to make even longer pieces. Her

husband has threaded the wooden wonder, and it looks as if a

crafty spider’s been at work. Jan sits at the loom, weaving the

fabric in and out of the perfectly spaced heavy thread. When

she reaches the end of a line, she pulls the wooden bar toward

her to tighten the weave and keep it even.

Today she’s working with a peach colored sheet patterned

with butterflies. As the placemat starts taking shape, the

butterflies disappear and a subtle pattern emerges. Jan loves

this transformation, taking what’s ordinary and turning it into a

thing of beauty.

Another thing she enjoys is taking old clothes mass produced

in other countries and turning them into something created

by hand in Arkansas. “I keep those clothes out of the landfills,

which is important to me,” Jan says. “I only use reclaimed

products, something I truly believe in.”

Her love of weaving began when she was still living in Iowa,

working as a home economics teacher. She had a small loom

in the classroom, and she enjoyed using it. “I wanted to take

lessons at a studio but I didn’t have an appointment. When I

went, they handed me a book to read. So, I learned from a book.”

It wasn’t long before Jan was weaving rag rugs. “I remember

when I was a kid,” Jan says, “we’d go to the church bazaar and

get rugs to put on the floors. Things weren’t carpeted then;

there was a lot of hardwood. And the rugs were decoration then.

Of course, at that time, homes weren’t all color coordinated. You

used what you had. I always identified with that kind of thing,

and with handwork.”

So when she moved to Lincoln, Arkansas from Iowa in 1989, she

was ready to do even more weaving. She bought a loom at an

auction and got serious about her craft. But at the same time Jan

and her husband were trying to build an orchard, grow a garden,

and get used to their new home. “We needed seasons, spring

and fall, and a little bit of winter. Snow one day, gone the next.

That appealed to us. As time’s gone by, the orchard’s fallen off

some. We have a little produce in the summer, but mostly we do

crafts now. Me with the loom, him with his birdhouses.”

Jan smiles, and her face lights up. “I’d rather be weaving than

weeding,” she says.

At eighty-one, she finds the work gratifying. She feels lucky

that she hasn’t suffered from any aches and pains that make

weaving difficult. “I don’t have carpal tunnel,” she says, “so that’s

a blessing. Sometimes my back gets tired, but that’s about it.”

At the Fayetteville Farmers’ Market, customers often snap

pictures with Jan. She brings her portable loom with her,

so passersby can see how her products are made. There is

something endearing about her; she has a grandmotherly voice,

soft and gentle. Often she wears a bonnet to shield her from

the sun. And always, always, her hands are moving. The crowds

seem to love that there’s a story behind the things they buy.

But it’s what happens when they take her products home that

makes Jan really happy.

“I have so many repeat customers. They’ll tell me that my rugs

or placemats last much longer than anything they can buy at

the store.”

Jan’s weaving has also spilled over into her family life. Now, on

vacations with her husband, they’ll find themselves scouting

out resale shops and places like Goodwill. “My husband’s

become as good a rag hound as I am. He can tell what’s going

to look good when it’s woven. That’s one of the best parts of

weaving; you never know how a pattern’s going to turn out. And

people have started giving us rags. I weave a lot of bed sheets

into placemats because they’ve been washed and washed and

are really soft. And one of my best sellers is a rug I make using

what I call a hobnail bedspread, with all those little puffs that

make it like a foot massage to walk on.”

lifestyle 11

The only place Jan sells is at the Farmers’ Market. Word has

spread about her products and she can hardly keep up. That’s

why she waits for winter. The market on the Square shuts down

on November 23, and that gives Jan time to replenish her stock

for spring. It takes her about a day to weave a rug. It takes longer

to get the rags ready for weaving. “A basic sheet will just barely

make four placemats, so if I want a set of six I have to weave

something else in with it. Decisions take a little while. What goes

with what. And that’s before I have to cut it into strips. It makes

me go to my rag room, and I do have a rag room. I have plenty

of things in there, but there are times when you just can’t turn

something down. I’ll think, I’ll never see this again, and I grab it.”

No one would fault Jan for taking the winter off, maybe heading

to Florida and sitting on the beach. But that wouldn’t suit her at

all. “It’s really good if you like to work and you have work that

you like. That’s a real blessing for me.”

If Jan has one wish at all, it’s that others take up the craft. “I have

people come by and talk to me. They’ll tell me they remember

their grandmother weaving. And I always say, ‘Where’s that loom

now? Is somebody using it?’ Oftentimes they’re stored away. I

want people to keep the craft going. It’s not hard to do. And now

there’s YouTube, so there’s really no excuse.”

With that, Jan returns to her latest project. She is smiling,

sitting here at her loom, happy to be working, happy that she

loves her work.

Jan sells her products exclusively at the Fayetteville

Farmers’ Market at 101 West Mountain Street on

Saturdays from 7-2, through November 23. If you can’t

make it, don’t worry, she’ll be back in the spring.

Jan Bryant

12 lifestyle

Why you should adopt a cat1. They’re pretty low maintenance.2. You can become a YouTube® sensation.3. They bathe themselves, saving you the trouble.4. Have hours of fun with a simple laser pointer.

5. They make great couch potato buddies.6. They entertain themselves.7. They entertain you while entertaining themselves.8. You’ll save a life. Enough said.

Kitties and Kanines is an affordable

spay/neuter clinic. The clinic has two

professionally licensed veterinarians and

utilizes state of the art surgical equipment.

Help control the pet population. Have your

pets spayed or neutered.

Kitties and Kanines Veterinarian Clinic4900 Rogers Avenue Suite 100HFort Smith, AR 72903

Mon-Thur / 7am – 5pmFri 8am – 5pm for scheduling appointments.

479.434.4740info@kittiesandkanines.orgkittiesandkanines.org

Casper

Isabella

Ginger

Pumpkin & Snowflake

Mr. Big

Penelope

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Holiday Pet SafetyWhat You Need to Know to Keep Them Safe

Special thanks to Eastside Veterinary Hospital in Fort Smith for providing some of our pet safety tips.

The No-No List for Dogs & Cats Other Hazards

Pet Emergency?

Leaving for the Holidays?

What To Watch For

55 fatty foodS. They can lead to dangerous conditions such as pancreatitis.

55 dreSSing/Stuffing. It contains onions, which are toxic.

55 tomatoeS. They are toxic.

55 CHoColate. The darker, the worse it is. In the worst cases, it can cause cardiac arrhythmia which can lead to death.

55 graPeS and raiSinS. They can cause kidney failure.

55 StringS. Especially that hold the turkey together. The pop-up thermometer can also cause problems if ingested.

55 alCoHoliC beverageS. Keep out of reach.

55 boneS. No bones, especially poultry.

55 SPiCy foodS. They are especially bad, and cats are sensitive to sage.

55 aluminum foil. Dispose of it, as well as plastic wrap and waxed paper. Cats can ingest pieces while licking.

55 leftoverS. NO leftovers, especially those that have been in the refrigerator for an extended period of time.

golden rule. If you won’t eat it (expired food, fat, bones) don’t feed it to your pet.

HouSeHold PlantS. They can be toxic, especially

ornamental and bulb plants. This includes plants you

bring into your home for the holidays, and outdoor

plants that you bring indoors during winter.

Human mediCationS. Drugs accidentally dropped

on the floor can be eaten by pets and are toxic.

toxiC materialS & HouSeHold CleanerS. Cats

can walk through toxic materials outdoors or in garages

and get it on their paws. When they bathe themselves,

they ingest the toxic materials. Household cleaners are

also hazards.

Small objeCtS. Cats tend to be attracted to small

objects such as strings, such as ribbon and tinsel, and

small decorations. These can be ingested and become

lodged in their digestive system.

The Emergency Animal Clinic in Fort Smith, Arkansas is open from 6pm until 7am, seven days a week, including holidays. Call 479.649.3100. Contact your veterinarian for your local emergency clinic.

If boarding your pet, be sure to reserve a spot at your favorite kennel or vet’s office early as they fill up quickly. If your pet prefers the comforts of home, ask a family member or neighbor to care for them in your absence or inquire about local pet sitting services.

55 letHargy

55 vomiting

55 diarrHea

55 CHange in level of Play or aCtivity

if your Pet iS vomiting, try withholding food and water for a few hours, up to half a day, depending on the size of your pet. Gradually reintroduce small amounts of water and if they can keep it down, slowly add in bland foods. If they continue to vomit and/or have diarrhea, consult your veterinarian immediately to avoid dehydration and further complications. If your pet cannot hold down water, you should consult your veterinarian immediately.

lifestyle 15

Fresh Scent of Fall Freshen the air in your home after a

day of cooking or in preparation for

holiday guests with ingredients you

most likely have in your pantry. Your

home will smell fresh and clean, some

might say just like the inside of the

Williams Sonoma Store!

1 lemon sliced

2-3 sprigs rosemary

1 teaspoon vanilla

Slice lemon and place into a saucepan filled with water.

Break two sprigs of rosemary into pieces and add to pan. Add vanilla.

Simmer contents, adding water as it evaporates.

@diy Marla Cantrell@image Jeromy Price

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16 lifestyle

Pump Up Your Locks

Pumpkin is everywhere this season, even in your hair!

It’s full of potassium and vitamins A and C, making it

an excellent conditioner for dry hair. You’re just three

ingredients away from an indulgent, make-at-home

hair mask, perfect for fall!

1 cup pumpkin puree(NOT pumpkin pie mix)

1 cup plain yogurt

2 Tablespoons honey

Combine all ingredients in a bowl. Stir until smooth.

Apply the mixture from roots to ends of hair. Wrap hair in a towel or shower cap and leave on for thirty minutes. Rinse well with warm water, shampoo and style as usual.

@diy Catherine Frederick @image Jeromy Price

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lifestyle 17

Measure and mark a 15” X 21” rectangle on the burlap. The extra inch is to allow for the fraying on the edges. Cut out the shape and repeat for the number of placemats you need.

Starting at one corner, pull one string of burlap away from the mat to fray the edge. Continue to pull single strands until the desired amount of fray is reached. I pulled 5-6 strands from each edge.

Make a list of words you want to spell on each mat. I chose words such as Eat, Chow, Dine. But you may prefer the names of your family, or words such as Thanks, Grace, Love.

Place several sheets of newspaper or card stock under each mat so the Sharpie® will not bleed through to your table. Place the chipboard letters on the burlap in the location of your choice. Using a fine point Sharpie®, trace around each letter.

Using the Magnum Sharpie®, fill in each letter.

Line the inner edges with Fray-Check to keep the mat from fraying any further.

Place at the Table

I love the rustic look and feel of burlap. These

placemats can be easily personalized for any

occasion and are a cinch to make.

Burlap(2 yards will make six 14” X 20” mats, with extra for potential mistakes)

Chipboard letters

Magnum Black Sharpie®

Fine Point Sharpie®

Scissors

Dritz® Fray-Check

@diy Catherine Frederick @image Jeromy Price

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18 lifestyle

This novel is a masterpiece about ordinary people, told

in a simple, yet extraordinary way by a brilliant novelist.

Nominated for three Pulitzer prizes and the National Book

Award winner for Charming Billy, Alice McDermott once again takes

her readers to Brooklyn and its Irish Catholic neighborhoods. Set

during the forties and fifties, it opens with Marie sitting on the

stoop of her townhouse, waiting for her father to emerge from

the subway after a day’s work. She is a shy seven-year-old with

bad eyesight who whiles away this time of day by watching the

neighborhood boys play stickball in the street.

Her mother is preparing supper in their small upstairs kitchen

while her older brother, Gabe, is studying, already planning on

joining the priesthood. In the street below are the scents of

fresh baked bread carried by shoppers on their way home in

the fading light and the sounds of the subway beneath their

feet. This is home, this neighborhood of Catholics who attend

the same schools, fast before Sunday mass, and hold the priests

and nuns in high esteem.

It is also home to blind Bill Corrigan, who was gassed in World

War I, and whose mother brings him down to the street to

sit in a straight back chair to be the umpire for the stickball

games. And there is Walter Hartnett, who wears a lift in one

shoe because of a congenital defect, and who will one day

break Marie’s heart when he marries a judge’s pretty blonde

daughter with good eyesight.

As Marie grows older, she begins to wonder if she’ll ever

marry, if anyone will ever love her. On a long walk through the

neighborhood, her brother Gabe, who did become a priest, but

left it soon after, tells her, “ Someone. Someone will.”

Marie finds a job working as a receptionist for the neighborhood

undertaker, Mr. Fagin, and there she stays for thirteen years,

becoming the person who consoles and assists during the

wakes, comforting mourners in their grief. Upstairs, on the third

floor, Mr. Fagin lives with his tiny old mother in an immaculate

apartment filled with Irish lace and vases of rearranged funeral

flowers. His mother greets Marie when she visits with a warm,

“What’s going on downstairs?” During tea, Marie learns the

ins and outs of the neighborhood’s present and past from the

retired nuns who visit daily with Mrs. Fagin. She learns who

drinks too much, who is a skirt-chaser, who keeps a tidy home.

That there is a grace of a shared past.

It is the poignancy of the pronoun, someone, that propels this

novel, as the word, no doubt, propels all of us who at one time

or the other has wondered if we will ever find love.

By Alice McDermottFarrar, Straus and Giroux: $25

Someone: A Novel

@review Anita Paddock

20 entertainment

Veterans Day Parade

Memphis

Saturday, November 9 // 1:30PM // FREE

Saturday, November 16 // 8PM // Tickets are $52 and $55

Join the Fort Smith Museum of History in honoring veterans of our great country. Photos, uniforms, and memorabilia will be on exhibit, along with recorded interviews with local veterans. All veterans and their families are invited to share stories. This event is free and will be held at Chaffee Crossing in Fort Smith. Parade begins at the intersection of Taylor and Ward Streets.

Get ready for a blast from the past! The Tony Award®-winning Broadway musical Memphis comes to Fort Smith. Witness a tale of fame and forbidden love with explosive dancing and incredible music. Don’t miss this amazing event held at the Fort Smith Convention Center.

Fort Smith, AR // Chaffee Crossing

Fort Smith, AR // 479.788.7300 // uafs.edu/seasonentertainment/memphis

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2The Addams Family Musical

Monday, November 18 // 7:30PM // See website for details

Come see that beloved - and creepy - family we all love come to life on stage. This musical adaptation of the classic TV show tells the story of Wednesday Addams’ coming-of-age and finding a “normal” boyfriend. Meet the family at the Reynolds Performance Hall.

Conway, AR // 501.450.3265 // uca.edu/reynolds320th Anniversary Holiday Market

November 21 – 23 // 9AM // See website for details

Take part in this 3-day unique shopping experience. This special event features local vendors, a girls’ night out, Santa Claus, and snacks for the kids. Shop dozens of booths for holiday items, clothes, cooking items, and much more. There will also be a drawing to win a $3,600 gift certificate for Newton’s Jewelers. This event will be at the Fort Smith Convention Center.

Fort Smith, AR // jlfs.org/jlfs/holidaymarket4

Submit your events to editors@aturbanmagazine.com

22 entertainment

Ice Skating at Lawrence Park

November 23 – January 20 // $3 per skate session, $2 for skate rental // see website for details

It’s a winter wonderland at Lawrence Park! There’s ice skating, a drop off location for letters to Santa, and free Friday movie nights, featuring Christmas classics. On November 23 there will be free skating, and a skating exhibition from the Arkansas Figure Skating Association. You can even have your picture made with Santa on December 14.

Bentonville, AR // 479.464.7275 // bentonvillear.com7Happy’s Christmas Train

November 30 // call for pricing

Create family memories that will last a lifetime! Happy’s Christmas Train departs from the Van Buren downtown depot twice on November 30 for a two-hour trip filled with holiday cheer. Wear your pajamas, have your photo made with Santa, and if you choose, you can eat aboard this grand old train. Better still, your ticket helps support Operation Christmas Child, which sends much needed items to deserving boys and girls across the globe.

Van Buren, AR // 800.687.86008

20th Annual Lights of the Ozarks

November 23 – December 31 // See website for details

Enjoy an amazing winter wonderland of lights on Fayetteville’s Downtown Square. The spectacle kicks off with the Lighting Night Parade and will feature nightly carriage and pony rides, fresh hot chocolate and festive holiday music.

Fayetteville, AR // 479.521.5776 // thelightsoftheozarks.com6

Wild Winter Country

November 22, 2013 – March 31, 2014 // See website for details

Winter takes hold of this family water park with a polar bear playground, snowball alley, s’mores fire pit, and much more. Build snowmen and throw snowballs…with real snow! Go snow tubing and see Santa during the holiday season. Wild River Country is located in North Little Rock.

North Little Rock, AR // 501.753.8600 // wildrivercountry.com5

entertainment 23

Jack JohnsonBushfire Records, $1150

From Here to Now to You

@review Marla Cantrell

Try to pick just one reason to love soft-rock superstar

Jack Johnson. The obvious is his music. His latest album,

From Here to Now to You, is filled with gorgeous lyrics,

his signature acoustic guitar, and a voice that’s been called

everything from mellow to meditative. There may even be a

little Jimmy Buffet influence going on. But then there’s his

determination to leave each city on his tour a little better. He

does that by teaming up with local charities, donating to four or

five in each location. It’s estimated he’s given $25 million away

since 2008. He also has a Farm to Stage program, which brings

local organic food vendors to his shows, and sets up water

stations to encourage his fans to bring reusable water bottles.

None of that philanthropy would be possible, though, if Johnson

weren’t a brilliant singer/songwriter. He starts this album out

with a happy number called “I Got You” that celebrates the

bond that keeps couples together even when the best laid

plans get dashed. The album continues to build, one great

song after another. “Washing Dishes” is one of the best, the

instrumentals perfect, Johnson’s laid-back voice carrying you

away with the story of a dishwasher and his dreams of making

it big one day. Even “Ones and Zeros,” which takes a look at

our poor treatment of the earth and the possible outcome if we

don’t straighten up, is sung so beautifully it’s easy to overlook

the severity of the lyrics.

If Johnson’s been accused of anything, it’s being too mellow.

It’s not criticism that particularly troubles him. He’s heard too

many fans tell him they listened to his music while in labor, or

they played his music at their weddings. Even Steven Colbert

weighed in, coming backstage when Johnson recently played

on his show. Colbert walked up to Johnson and instead of

shaking hands began to sing every verse of “Sleep to the Static,”

one of his previous hits. Colbert then told Johnson it was that

song, along with a piece of classical music, he played every

night when he visited Iraq, just before falling asleep. It wasn’t

an easy song to sing and Colbert did it wonderfully, Johnson

said in a recent interview, adding that Colbert’s comments were

life changing for him.

He looks back on his childhood in Hawaii, learning to surf at five,

learning the guitar at eight, and is thankful for both experiences.

He started writing songs at twelve, and the guys in the band are

all longtime friends. Now, as a father of three, he loves the time

between albums when he’s writing at home, and teaching his

kids to care for the earth the way he does.

As for his music, he still sees it as his hobby. There’s so much

bliss in it that it can’t be work. His formula is spot on. This is his

fourth #1 album and his fan base continues to grow. Give From

Here to Now to You a try. It’s the perfect music for this month of

Thanksgiving, mellow and reflective and absolutely heartfelt.

I Rate It

24 entertainment

The Last Daysof Sergeant Grady@story Marla Cantrell@images Jami Coleman

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The small black-and-white photo of a cross erected in Belgium in the 1940s

is what Jim Grady remembers most about his father. The image shows up in

Jim’s birthday pictures, tucked inside the frame of a larger picture that’s on

the wall just behind him. In the foreground is Jim, who’s turning three. He’s

smiling, blowing out his candles. But when the camera’s put away, he asks

the question he always asks: “Where is my dad?”

Jim was two years old when his father died in a German prisoner of war

camp in the last months of World War II. It wasn’t until he reached school

age that he realized there were other children just like him. “A lot of kids

were in the same situation as me, who lost their dads in the war,” he says,

recalling several of his Fort Smith classmates. “We knew about each other,

but we didn’t talk about it a whole lot.

“I did know that my dad, Staff Sergeant James Russell Grady, was in the

Army, 422nd Infantry Regiment, 106th Infantry Division, out of Fort Sill,

Oklahoma, and that he was captured on the first day of the battle, along with

3,000 other soldiers, toward the end of 1944. The Battle of the Bulge was

the culmination of World War II, and my dad was twenty-seven, probably a

little older than many of the soldiers. I was told he was a cook. I don’t know

how long he was in the Army; I never thought to ask.”

The household Jim grew up in was decidedly female. His mother worked at

the Dodson Avenue Pharmacy. His grandmother, often ill, lived with them

intermittently. And money, he remembers, was especially hard to come by.

“We didn’t have a car until I turned sixteen,” he says.

What he did have were three uncles, each married to his mother’s sisters.

They made sure Jim learned to play baseball, that he knew the basics of car

repair, that he had someone to go fishing with. “I was an only child. Uncle

Carl, Jack, and John were married to my aunts Dora, Cora, and Flora. They

weren’t blood relatives but these three men loved me,” Jim says, and the

tears start. “I’m thankful I had them.”

As the years passed, Jim researched the war, trying to piece together what

happened to his father. He had his father’s hat, one of his dearest possessions,

that he kept with him always. He had the notice brought by two officers who

parked down the street and walked solemnly up to his house, letting his

mother know that on March 6, 1945, Staff Sergeant James Russell Grady died.

At the time he weighed only eighty-five pounds, and he had pneumonia.

The winter that began in 1944 was the coldest on record in Germany. Jim

imagines his young father struggling to keep warm. Maybe he had one wool

blanket to help. Jim will never know.

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What he did know was that he needed to see the hallowed

ground where his father was buried. This June, accompanied by

his wife, his daughter, Jami Coleman, and her family, he traveled

to Belgium to see the land of his father’s last days.

When they arrived at Ardennes American Cemetery in Neupre,

Belgium, a light rain was falling. Jim looked around at the white

crosses, the lush grass, the carefully manicured grounds. “It

seemed like the Garden of Eden,” he says. They were met by

two officials who briefed them on the battle that claimed so

many of the Allied forces. “Sixty-five thousand died,” Jim says,

“and 5,300 are buried here.”

The officials also took the time to place an American flag on

Jim’s father’s grave. They then took sand from Normandy Beach,

where many of the Allied soldiers arrived to fight, and smoothed

it into the carving on the cross, so the family could easily read

the inscription on the stark white marker.

It was overwhelming for Jim. “I stood there and I felt like I’d

been there before,” he says and begins to weep. “Dog-gone it,”

he says, but the tears won’t stop. “It had been sixty-eight years

ago and it was still hard. I felt so sorry, so hurt for my mother.

“My mother’s buried at the National Cemetery in Fort Smith,

at his memorial. His name is on the front and her name is on

the back. I took a picture of it before I went over there. People

sometimes ask me why I didn’t have him brought home. Well,

first of all, I was two when he died; I never thought of it. But now

that I’ve been, I’d never do it. My father belongs with these men

he fought with. He belongs with the men he died with.

“It feels like you’re on sacred ground there. It’s serene. Not a

blade of grass out of place. It’s an honor to have him there.

There’s so much thought that went into Ardennes. My dad’s on

row 33, right on the end. If you went up in a plane and looked

down from the air, all the headstones form one big Greek cross.”

Jim looks away for a second. When he starts talking again, he

speaks of the kindness of the Belgium people. Townspeople

adopt the graves, coming regularly to visit. He thinks of those

visits often, of the strangers who honor his father while he’s

5,000 miles away.

When the day was done, Jim was weary. The visit had taken a lot

out of him. But touching the stone that showed up in so many of

his earliest memories made the trip worth everything. He felt as

if he knew more about his father at that moment than he ever

thought he would. And during the entire visit, his mother kept

coming to mind. She finally remarried twenty-seven years after

his father’s passing. “She married her first boyfriend, who’d lost

his wife to cancer.” Jim smiles. “That was good for her,” he says.

As for Jim, his life has been remarkable. He married Margaret

fifty years ago, and the couple has three children: Paula, Jami,

and James Russell Grady, who’s named for Jim’s father. “I did the

best I could with the kids,” Jim says. “I tried to be a good father.”

He’s been much more than that. His daughter Jami says he

coached their softball teams, was their spiritual leader, and

biggest supporter. He taught his children to be honest, and

faithful, and to hold dear the family they’d been given.

One day, Jim says, he’ll see his father again in heaven. He

imagines what it will be like, the reunion of a son to a father

he never got to know on this earth. There will be plenty of time

then, he says, to get to know the man who is a hero to Jim. Who

is a hero to every one of us.

Jim Grady

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YOGAwith Terri and Miles@story Doug Kelley@images Jeromy Price

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“OK, Miles, let’s start.”

Terri Hargrove sits down on a thin blue foam mat and folds

her legs into a classic yoga pose. Next to her, thirteen-year-old

Miles Udouj drops to his own mat. They are on the floor of the

living room at his parent’s home in Fort Smith. Mom Tina is on

her mat to just follow along, or, to be more correct, to help lead.

They are ready for Miles’ yoga lesson.

“Legs crossed,” Terri says. She is twenty-seven, and sits with

the impeccable posture common among yoga instructors.

Miles, wearing a purple t-shirt and black shorts, is tall and

teen-age awkward, plus some, but he mirrors Terri’s actions,

obediently folding his legs under him. He faces Terri, his blue

eyes showing anticipation.

It is not a typical yoga studio, and not a typical yoga lesson. This

class, with an attendance of one, is just for Miles.

Miles is autistic. Basic communication, common social graces,

and ordinary day-to-day activities are challenges for him. His

parents see the yoga exercises as a way, as Tina puts it, to

“smooth out” his sometimes frenetic actions, his reactions and,

even his thoughts.

He was diagnosed before he was three, and over the ten years

since, Tina and dad Gary tried several things in hopes of helping

his symptoms, such as trying a gluten free and then a dairy free

diet. Any improvement was minimal.

Then, at a class Terri teaches at Creekmore Park’s Community

Center, Tina learned Terri had worked with special needs youth

at Ramsey Junior High School. Ever hopeful, Tina wondered if

yoga might be beneficial to Miles. So now they spend thirty

minutes one afternoon a week - “promptly at 4:30,” says Terri,

“as schedule is very important to him,” - letting Miles, through

motion, breathing, and relaxation, learn more about himself.

They begin, as do all of Terri’s lessons, simply, with legs crossed

under them, doing easy stretches. She and Miles rotate their

necks, rolling their heads, stretching arms up and then out,

then legs straight out. Throughout, Terri coaches breathing,

accenting her inhales and exhales, the deep breaths in and out

as important to the mind as the movements are to the body.

After a few minutes, she says, “OK, one leg long, one leg in,” and

she extends one leg straight out in front of her, leaving the other

folded beneath her. Miles follows Terri’s example. They stretch

their arms out toward their toes, even though his leg does not lie

as straight, and his fingers cannot reach as far as Terri can with

her practiced, fluid body. “That’s good,” Terri says, and after a

minute or so they switch legs.

One by one, they go through a litany of exercises. Occasionally,

Terri, or sometimes Mom, reaches over to help Miles raise his

arms high to stretch his abdomen, or help him twist just so.

At every step, every move, Terri emphasizes the deep, steady

breathing. “Breathe in,” and then, after a pause, the next

movement is accompanied by a “Breathe out,” encouraging

Miles to copy her.

When she says, “All right, let’s make a table,” he grins and

dutifully supports himself on his hands and feet, raising his

midsection, stomach up, to a flat, horizontal position. Terri has

him hold the pose, praising his form, his table, and Miles laughs

gleefully at the incongruity of the pose, at his success.

Terri normally has a certain order for the various movements,

all part of the blending of mind and body, but when working

with Miles she adapts her workouts to whatever seems right

for the moment.

“We do them,” she says, “in the order Miles seems ready to

do them.”

Her tone of voice, too, is different. At her adult classes, she speaks

in soft, soothing, tones befitting the peaceful music playing in the

background. With Miles there is no music, and while her voice

is still calm and soothing, it is also strong and direct, the tone a

parent might use when wanting a child to listen.

Terri has only recently begun devoting herself full time to the

practice of yoga, having had other, more “mainstream” jobs,

including a several year stretch as a retail purchasing manager.

Though all along, she saw herself going in another direction, one

more personally meaningful, and gradually she became more

and more involved with the art of yoga. She found it suiting her

sensibilities, a fit with her all-around outlook on life.

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Finally, she went to the Sivananda Ashram school of yoga, in

Nassau, Bahamas, to become a Certified Yoga Alliance Teacher.

While an island paradise may seem an odd place to go for

emphasis on one’s inner self, the immersion in the methods

and the spirit of yoga proved to Terri that she had found her

true calling.

“I don’t make nearly as much money now,” she says, “but I

don’t need much. I live fairly simply. I mean, I still go out and

do things, out to eat, out with friends, but I just started thinking,

why stay in a job I don’t like just so I can buy stuff I don’t need?”

Terri, having always been confident in herself, feels good

about where she is now, good about what she is doing. She is

especially excited about her work with Miles.

Tina Udouj clearly feels the same. “It seems to help,” she will say

after the lesson, after Miles jumps off to some other thing, to his

computer games, to YouTube on his iPad, to playing outside. “It

helps with his behavior, and he communicates better. It helps

him self regulate. Smoothes him out. And he seems to be more

aware of his body, of its motions. We have noticed, since he

started the lessons with Terri, he understands things better,

knows more of what he needs to do. Not just with the yoga, but

in everything.

“He also participates in other activities through an organization

called Developmental Wings, like horseback riding and bowling,

which he really enjoys, but I can’t say enough about the yoga.

What Terri does is great, and I hope that she is able to reach out

to others with similar needs. She wants to help, and we think

she does.”

Meanwhile, the afternoon lesson is finishing up. After some cool

down exercises, a mental preparation to go back to the rest of the

world, Terri turns to face Miles, and he faces her, knees almost

touching. His eyes glow. Terri places her hands prayerfully

together, fingers and palms touching. Miles does the same, and

follows along as Terri says the valediction, “Namasté.” My soul

recognizes your soul. We are the same. We are one.

“Namasté,” Miles says in return.

Terri can be reached at 479.459.2187, or visit her

website at relaxinfortsmith.com

32 people

The Razorbacks are playing today and all of Fayetteville,

Arkansas is dressed in red. At the Farmers’ Market on the

town square, some have hogs painted on their faces, a

few are wearing hog snouts held in place by elastic bands, and

Marilyn Pennington is wearing her hog earrings. She and her

husband Babe and their son Randy are manning their booth.

Here, they sell cutting boards and utensils made from Arkansas

hardwoods that Randy finds mostly on his friend’s 1,000 acres.

Once the trees have been harvested, they’re taken to a nearby

mill, and then on to the Pennington’s shop in Rogers, where

they begin their work.

One of the top sellers today is the board shaped like the state of

Arkansas. A couple comes by and snaps several photos on their

@story Marla Cantrell@images Mark Mundorff

What Babe Built

34 people

phone. In a few minutes they return to make a purchase. By

ten in the morning a line has formed, filled with shoppers who

couldn’t resist these handmade products.

Marilyn laughs as she talks to the customers. Randy is busy

keeping a tally of what’s selling. And then there’s Babe, who’s

sitting in a lawn chair, his plaid newsboy cap pulled down low

against the persistent wind.

At eighty, this business is one of the things that keeps Babe

excited about life. The first piece he created was a small oval

bread board he made in his backyard shop and then took

inside to show Marilyn. He was already in the construction

business when this happened, and he was a gifted

cabinet maker. The board, pieced together

with scraps from his latest job, appealed to

Marilyn. And then she used it. It worked

beautifully, the wood giving way just

enough, the knives clicking along

as she cut through fresh baked

bread. She washed it gently, then

used cooking oil to keep it in top

condition.

Soon, Babe was making more boards

than his family and friends could use.

He’d spend hours in his shop, planing

down the wood, gluing it together, sanding

it smooth.

Before long, Marilyn and Randy were helping him, working

in the shop and helping Babe sell at local arts and crafts fairs.

Since that time, they’ve sold more than they can easily track. “A

long time ago we were at a craft show at the Jones Center and a

lady bought thirty bread boards, and we were just astounded,”

Marilyn says. “That was the first big sale I remember. We now

sell to the Capitol Gift Shop in Little Rock, and the Cowboy Hall

of Fame in Oklahoma carries our board shaped like Oklahoma.

“We’ve made boards shaped like states all over the country,

and we’ve made boards that look like England and Germany,

and several other foreign countries. We’ll ship them wherever

people want them. I’ve had people who came through from

Switzerland buy our boards, and we had a guy and his wife

from Denmark, who were going to school at the University of

Arkansas, who bought some to take home with them. I guess

that’s the farthest we’ve had them go.”

The wood is gorgeous: black walnut, oak, sassafras, Box Elder,

ash, hickory, pecan, cherry. Many are made with multiple kinds

of wood, and the contrast is striking. Randy is in charge of finding

the trees, cutting them down, and getting them to the sawmill.

“I get wood everywhere I can,” Randy says. “I have my friend’s

place with a 1,000 acres, but I’ll also stop if I see somebody

cutting down a tree, and I’ll ask them what they’re going to do

with the logs. And people know I buy wood, so I get calls.”

The wood has to dry for a year or two before it’s

ready to use. The boards are cut into even

strips, glued together into sheets, and

then run through a planer to make

sure they’re even. After that, they’re

sanded. Babe and Marilyn decide

what shapes they’ll become: an

outline of a state, a rectangle,

square, or oval. They trace the

pattern on the wood and cut

them with a band saw. They sand a

second time, brand them with their

logo and phone number, then Marilyn

uses olive oil to condition them. The

process takes about three weeks.

“I was a little hesitant the first few times I used

the band saw, but Babe really worked with me,” Marilyn

says. “He gave me little things to do, and the more I did them

the less afraid I was. The only thing that scared me was when

the blade would break and it made a loud noise. But I’ve never

once wanted to quit,” Marilyn says. “Because I just love it. I love

it. I love taking the boards before anything’s on them. They don’t

look like this. The minute the oil hits them, everything changes.

And you sit there and look at it and you have to decide which

side you want to be the right side.”

Babe is smiling while Marilyn talks. “I work all day,” he says,

“from the time I get up until six or seven at night. I had an

accident with a heater filled with propane that caught fire and

burned my leg to the bone, so I was out until a few months ago.

people 35

I was moving it and accidently kicked it and the fire started.”

Babe shakes his head. “That was awful. Had to fly me from

Rogers to the Springfield burn unit. I was there from January to

April. Marilyn and Randy had to do everything. I hated that. I like

to work. People ask me what else I do besides work. And I don’t

know. There’s nothing else I want to do.”

Just then a customer appears who has a question for Babe. “We

do all of this ourselves,” he says to a man holding two similar

boards. “You won’t find any two alike,” Babe adds, and the man

buys both.

Randy points to a rectangular board, eleven by six inches, made

of Box Elder. On each end is a handle made from cabinet pulls.

The board contains several small squares of wood that have

been turned so the end grain is exposed. In some pieces, swirls

of scarlet swim against the pale wood. “The red is a toxin in the

tree, caused by the Box Elder beetle,” Randy says. “The tree puts

off a toxin – it’s not toxic to you or me – and that only happens in

female tree. It grows in the bottoms, close to water. In the dead

of winter you can tell a Box Elder real easy; the twigs on the tree

will be bright green when all the other trees are brown.”

This is one of the perks of the job. Randy can identify any tree

in Arkansas, and he’s brimming with facts most of us will never

know. Marilyn pats him on the shoulder. “He knows a lot,” she

says. And then Babe adds. “He does, and we all do quality work.

We’re proud of it. We do what we love.”

The wind has picked up, and leaves skitter across the square.

Babe puts a hand on his newsboy cap. The three turn back to

their customers, happy to see their handiwork leave this place

and end up in kitchens as far away as Denmark. It is astounding

that the Penningtons have been this successful. They don’t

have a website, they don’t market, but still the sales come. They

rely on places like the Fayetteville Farmers’ Market, and phone

calls, to keep them afloat. It is more than enough. Babe is not

surprised. Create something well made, put your heart into it,

and good things follow. “These cutting boards will last a lifetime

if you treat them right,” he says. “But that won’t keep me from

selling you two,” he says, and now he’s beaming, here amid his

handiwork and the people he loves best.

See the Penningtons’ products at the Fayetteville

Farmers’ Market at 101 W. Mountain Street on

Saturdays from 7-2, through November 23. If you miss

them this month, they’ll be back in the spring.

To place orders anytime, call Babe and Marilyn at

479.631.7427 or Randy at 479.531.8398.

36 people

BUCKT R A D I T I O N

Shake up your Thanksgiving table@images Jeromy Price

38 taste

@recipe Catherine Frederick @image Jeromy Price

Getting Ready to Be the Boss of Thanksgiving:

Make sure your bar is st ocked Set your table in advance, if possi ble

C lean out t he refr igerat or Order f l owers f or your table

P lan your menu Schedule t ime t o c o ok / bake / assemble make-ahead recipes

Prepare a shopping l ist C lean as you go, and start wit h an empt y dishwasher

Locate necessar y ser v i ng d i shes , f l at ware , and g l assware - set as i de

Keep a l ist of ever yt hing you’re prepar ing on t he refr igerat or, so not hing gets left of f t he table

Kick off your day of cooking with a bit of pumpkin pie. In a glass.

Fill low ball glass with ice. Combine all ingredients, stir gently. Top with whipped cream and a dash of nutmeg if desired.

2 oz. Fulton’s Pumpkin Pie Liqueur

2 oz. Kahlua

2 oz. Vodka

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Southern Style Red CabbagePrep time: 15 minCook time: 1 hour

The sorghum and brown sugar in this recipe kick traditional red cabbage up a few notches, creating a rich sweet sauce balanced by the tang from the red wine and vinegar.

Ingredients1 head red cabbage shredded or chopped thin

1/2 tablespoon vegetable oil

1 purple onion, sliced thin

2 McIntosh apples, cored, peeled and chunked

1 cup red wine

1/2 cup red wine vinegar

2 tablespoons sugar

1/2 teaspoon ground cloves

1/4 cup brown sugar

1 teaspoon cinnamon

1/4 cup sorghum

Salt and pepper to taste

Green onions for garnish

Method1. Remove outer cabbage leaves.

Rinse cabbage head. Chop into quarters, core and shred or chop.

2. In a large pot, heat vegetable oil over medium heat. Add onions, cook until tender. Add remaining ingredients. Cover and bring to a boil.

3. Reduce heat to low, cover and cook until cabbage is reduced and moisture has evaporated, about an hour. Serve hot. Garnish with sliced green onions.

40 taste

Green Bean BundlesPrep time: 20 minCook time: 45 min

Kick your green bean casserole to the curb and try these green bean bundles on for size. Perfectly portioned, wrapped in peppered bacon and baked in a sauce that will have everyone asking for seconds.

Ingredients1 lb fresh raw French style green beans

1 package peppered bacon(1/2 strip per bundle)

3 tablespoons melted butter

1/4 cup brown sugar (reserve 1 tablespoon)

1/2 teaspoon soy sauce

2 cloves garlic minced

1/4 teaspoon salt

1/4 teaspoon pepper

Toothpicks

Method1. Preheat oven to 350°F. Spray 9X13 baking dish

with non-stick spray. Wash and dry green beans.

2. In a skillet over medium heat, cook bacon just until slices brown along the edges but are not crisp, 4 - 6 minutes. Transfer to paper towel-lined plate and let cool. Cut each slice in half crosswise.

3. In a small bowl, combine butter, garlic, soy sauce, salt, pepper, and brown sugar. Stir until sugar is dissolved.

4. Group together 6-8 green beans and wrap a half slice of bacon around the center to hold the beans together and secure bacon with a toothpick. Place bundles in prepared dish, placing secured ends of bundles face down.

5. Drizzle soy mixture over bundles, then sprinkle 1 Tbsp. brown sugar over bundles.

6. Cover dish with foil and bake for 35 minutes. Remove foil and allow bacon to crisp, about 10-15 minutes more. Let stand for 3 to 5 minutes. Serve immediately.

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Apple, Sausage, Kale and Sourdough DressingPrep time: 30 min

Cook time: 45 – 60 minutes

The main elements in this dressing are nontraditional, but when they come together they are soul-comforting delicious.

Ingredients1 lb sourdough cut into 1” cubes

1/4 cup unsalted butter

2 large onions

2 Granny Smith apples, peeled cored, and chopped

1/4 lb sausage, chunked (we used sage sausage)

2 stalks celery, chopped

1 teaspoon sage

1 teaspoon poultry seasoning

1/2 teaspoon celery seeds

2 tablespoons fresh thyme

1 bunch kale, leaves only, chopped

1/2 cup chopped flat leaf parsley

2 large eggs

1 1/2 cups of chicken stock

Salt and pepper to taste

Method1. Preheat oven to 300°F. Butter a large

casserole dish.

2. Cube bread and spread onto large baking sheet. Bake until dried but not browned, about 15 minutes. Transfer to a large bowl and set aside.

3. In a large skillet, cook sausage until done. Add onions, cook until tender. Add butter, apples, celery, and kale. Cook until softened and kale is reduced but still bright green, about 3-5 minutes.

4. Add vegetables to the bread mixture. Sprinkle in all spices, including parsley. In a separate bowl, whisk together chicken stock and eggs.

5. Add in the stock and egg mixture a little at a time, stirring gently so that the bread is lightly moistened but not soggy. The bread chunks should still look like cubes. You do not have to use all of the stock mixture.

6. Increase oven temperature to 350°F. Pour dressing into prepared casserole dish and bake until lightly brown and crisp on top, 45 – 60 minutes.

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Pumpkin Cakewith Chocolate Ganache

Prep time: 30 minCook time: 45 min

Maintain the tradition of pumpkin but mix it up a little, replacing pie with a delicious pumpkin cake topped with a decadent chocolate ganache. Did we mention there’s a layer of cream cheese frosting? Enjoy.

Cake Ingredients1 1/2 cups granulated sugar

1 cup softened butter

3 eggs, room temperature

1 teaspoon vanilla

2 cups all-purpose flour

1 teaspoon baking soda

2 teaspoons baking powder

1/4 teaspoon salt

1 tablespoon pumpkin pie spice

1 teaspoon ground nutmeg

1 1/2 cups pumpkin puree

FrostingIngredients1/2 cup softened butter

6 ounces softened cream cheese

3/4 teaspoon vanilla

1 cup powdered sugar

Chocolate Ganache Ingredients1 cup heavy cream

10 ounces semi-sweet chocolate chips

Method1. Preheat oven to 350° F. Grease and flour two 9-inch round

cake pans.

2. Cream together butter and sugar until fluffy. Add eggs one at a time. Add vanilla.

3. In a separate bowl, stir together flour, baking soda, baking powder, salt and pumpkin spice. Combine wet and dry ingredients. Fold in pumpkin puree.

4. Fill pans equally with batter. Level with a spatula. Bake for 30 - 40 minutes, until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Remove from oven and cool for several minutes. Remove cakes from pans and let cool completely on a rack.

5. Cream cheese frosting: Combine butter and cream cheese. Add vanilla. Add in powdered sugar until mixture is stiff but spreadable. If too thin, add more cream cheese.

6. Place one cake layer on a plate or cake stand. Spread cream cheese frosting from the center out, leaving a 1/2” perimeter

of cake unfrosted. Place the other cake, top side up, on top of the frosting.

7. Prep ganache just before you’re ready to use it. Heat heavy cream in a saucepan just until bubbly. Place the chocolate chips in a measuring cup (I used my Pyrex glass cup). Pour the hot cream over the chips, making sure the cream covers them. Let sit for two minutes.

8. Stir until chocolate melts and mixture has a glossy sheen.

9. Slowly, working from the center outward, pour the chocolate ganache over the top layer of cake. The ganache will be thick. Use a knife to spread. Ganache will spill out over the edges of the cake. Spread evenly over sides or let drizzle down.

10. Slice and serve after ganache hardens, about 15 minutes. Store leftovers in refrigerator.

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Recipe on page 16

Have your house smellingsqueaky clean with our

simmering potpourri

Clean It UpÔÔ Before Thanksgiving, clean your dishwasher by pouring a cup

of white vinegar into the bottom of the machine and running

an empty load on the hottest temperature cycle.

ÔÔ Use powered dishwashing detergent instead of liquid, cubes or

pods. Experts say this is the best way to keep your machine in

top condition.

ÔÔ Turn on the water in your kitchen sink and run until hot BEFORE

starting your dishwasher.

ÔÔ Start by washing small pieces in the dishwasher first, so if you have to

hand wash, you’ll be washing fewer pieces.

ÔÔ Rinse any dish that held dairy or starchy food – like mashed potatoes –

with cold water first. Hot water will cause a gummy residue. Make sure

to rinse all dishes before placing in dishwasher.

ÔÔ Fill kitchen sink with hot, sudsy water. Clean as you cook.

ÔÔ Place a towel in the bottom of the sink to protect glassware or fine

dishes. If using a dish drying rack, place a baking sheet with 1-inch

vertical sides under rack to catch water before it hits your countertop.

ÔÔ Burned-on food in skillets? Add two drops of dishwashing detergent,

add water to cover bottom of pan, and boil for a few minutes.

ÔÔ Double or triple line garbage cans, so you can remove the full bag

without relining.

ÔÔ Let others help you! If they offer, take them up on it.

44

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The Kids’ TableBest Seat in the House

46

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taste 47 47

Ahoy! @diy Catherine Frederick (adapted from Dandee Designs)@images Jeromy Price

The perfect craft just sailed into view. Handmade place cards for your Thanksgiving table. Wait, there’s more. These boats carry cargo - chocolate!

MaterialsTemplates (AtUrbanMagazine.com)

Brown and white card stock

Bamboo skewers

Glue gun and glue sticks

Hole punch and scissors

Chocolate rocks(purchased from Candy Craze)

Black pen

Japanese Washi tape (optional)

1. Print templates. Trace onto card stock and cut out. Fold as indicated, glue ends together with hot glue. Secure ends with tape.

2. Write name on sail. Punch a hole in the top and bottom center of the sail.

3. Break bamboo skewer to desired length. Glue blunt end of skewer onto inside bottom of boat. Hold until set. Thread skewer through sail.

4. Pour chocolate rocks into each boat.

Method

48

It all started four years ago in Oklahoma with a

family and a food truck. Andrew Douangmankone

and his family are no strangers to hard work, so

when the Whirlpool layoffs came crashing down,

the family rolled up their sleeves and rolled out a

new plan. Eggrolls.

His parents, aunt, and uncle took a family eggroll

recipe they’d been making for more than twenty

years, added fried wontons, fried rice, and a food

truck. DKone Eggrolls was born. It’s been thriving in

Oklahoma, east of Muldrow ever since.

The family opened a second location in 2012. This

time, it’s a brick and mortar restaurant in Fort Smith,

Arkansas on the east side of town. Andrew, along with

his sister and other family members, manages this

location. And this location has much more to offer

than just eggrolls.

Don’t misunderstand, eggrolls still have their place

in the business. Andrew estimates he hand rolls

anywhere from 300 – 600 per week. That number

jumps to 1,000 on Thursdays when eggrolls are

only $.50 each. But beyond the eggrolls, Andrew is

cooking up even more family recipes as their menu

continues to grow.

Andrew says, “We cook what our family eats. We

cook what our customers want. If you don’t see it

on the menu, chances are we can make it for you.”

There’s no buffet. Everything is cooked to order, so

expect a little bit of a wait. But trust us, the short

wait is worth every delicious bite.

StyleLimited seating.

Take-out is the majority

of their business.

Cuisine Authentic Asian cuisine.

You’ll FindFamily recipes.

Large portions.

Made fresh-to-order.

Great prices.

Substitutions allowed.

9501 Rogers AvenueFort Smith, Arkansas

Monday – Saturday 11am to 9pmSunday 12pm to 6pm479.242.9517

Eggrolls and Wontons:$.45 – $.59 each or sold by the dozen

Chicken Sticks, Soups: $3.49 – $4.99

Fried Rice: $4.99 – $6.99

Stir-Fry: $5.99 – $7.49(comes with steamed rice)

Combos: $5.29 – $6.29(comes with chicken fried rice)

Special Trays (fried rice, Lo Mein, orange chicken): $15.99 – $22.99

Special Platter: $21.49 (15 eggrolls, 10 chicken sticks, 8 wontons)

Sunday Football Platter: $39.99(30 eggrolls, 20 wontons, 1 tray chicken fried rice)

DKone EggrollsWhere the eggrolls are

just the beginning@review and images Catherine Frederick

50 taste

Deep Fried Pork Eggrolls $.59 each or $6.80 per dozenRolled tight and lightly fried. There’s a crunch with every

bite, packed with pork and a host of chopped vegetables.

Try them with one of their signature sauces, made in house.

Traditional sweet and sour, sweet chili or peanut.

Egg Drop Soup $4.99This is a large bowl of soup! Loaded with black pepper,

sliced green onions and plenty of egg whites in a broth

that’s not too thick.

Cream Cheese Wontons $.49 eachCrispy and packed with a warm cream cheese filling.

Chicken Sticks $3.49 (3 per order)Chicken is seasoned, skewered, and deep fried. Delicious as

an appetizer or as an addition to your meal.

Chicken Lo Mein $6.49Thinly sliced chicken, soft Lo Mein noodles and cabbage,

coupled with a delicious sauce. This dish is simple but

packed with flavor.

Garlic Jalapeño Beef Stir-Fry $6.99Fried garlic, chunks of onions, mushrooms and sliced

jalapeños stir-fried with thinly sliced beef. The vegetables

are cooked perfectly with a bit of bite to them. Spicy, but

not too much heat.

Orange Chicken $6.49Tender chicken covered with a thin, crispy coating and

cooked with a hint of ginger. This is a slightly sweet dish

with a delicious orange citrus sauce.

Chicken Curry Spicy $6.49Chicken curry in a spicy, rich broth with carrots, snow peas,

mushrooms, bamboo shoots and potatoes. Just the right

amount of spice for those who love a little heat.

taste 51

Find other premium cocktail recipes at AtUrbanMagazine.com.

Please drink responsibly.

@recipe Catherine Frederick @image Jeromy Price

Rim the top of a martini glass with caramel.

Combine apple pie liqueur and vodka in a shaker

with ice. Pour into prepared glass and top with

whipped cream and a dash of nutmeg if desired.

2 oz. Fulton’s Apple Pie Liqueur2 oz. Viral Salty Caramel VodkaCaramel Topping/SauceWhipped Cream (optional)Nutmeg (optional)

CaramelAppletini

52 taste

Makin’ Whoopie!Pumpkin Whoopie Pies with

Maple Butter Cream Cheese Frosting

Maple butter cream cheese frosting tucked inside two layers of moist, pumpkin cake. Fold in the spicy fall flavors of cinnamon, cloves, and nutmeg, and you’ve got a sweet treat that’ll have them begging for more!

FOr THE PUMPkIN WHOOPIE PIES3 cups all-purpose flour

1 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon baking powder

1 teaspoon baking soda

2 tablespoons ground cinnamon

2 teaspoons ground ginger

2 teaspoons ground cloves

1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg

1 cup sugar

1 cup firmly packed dark brown sugar

1 cup vegetable oil

3 cups canned pumpkin (puree)

2 large eggs

1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

FOr THE CrEAM CHEESE FILLING1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, softened

8 ounces cream cheese, softened

3 cups powdered sugar

1 teaspoon maple syrup

1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

1/4 teaspoon butter-flavored extract

Method

Ingredients

1. Preheat oven to 350°F. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper or non-stick baking mats.

2. In a large bowl, combine flour, salt, cinnamon, baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon, ginger, cloves, and nutmeg. Set aside. In a separate bowl, combine sugar, dark brown sugar, and oil. Add pumpkin puree, stir to combine. Mix in eggs and vanilla. Gradually add flour mixture to the pumpkin mixture. Stir until combined.

3. Using a large spoon, drop mounds of dough onto baking sheets, about 1 inch apart. Using the back of the spoon, spread dough into a circle. Place pies in oven and bake until a toothpick comes out clean, about 10 – 15 minutes. Let cool completely.

4. To make the filling, beat the butter until light and fluffy. Add cream cheese and mix until combined. Slowly sift in powdered sugar, add maple syrup, vanilla, and butter flavored extract. Beat until smooth.

5. Assemble whoopie pies by lining a baking sheet with parchment paper. Spoon a large mound of frosting on the flat side of one pie, then top with another pie, flat side down. Press lightly until the frosting begins to spill out to the edges of the pie. Transfer to a plate and cover with plastic wrap. Refrigerate for 30 minutes before serving. Store refrigerated up to three days.

@recipe and image Catherine Frederick

54 taste

INGREDIENTS2 cups leftover turkey, chopped

1/4 cup celery, diced

2 tablespoons red onion, diced

4 – 6 leaves of baby spinach

4 whole wheat wraps

Cheese of choice, crumbled or shredded (blue

cheese, smoked gouda, etc.)

Salt and pepper to taste

Cranberry spread of choice (see recipes below)

METHODIn a bowl, mix turkey, celery, onion, cheese, and

cranberry spread of your choice until combined.

Add salt and pepper to taste. Line wrap with

spinach leaves. Place 1/2 to 3/4 cup of mixture in

center of wrap, roll as desired. Cut in half, serve.

CrEAMY CrANBErrY SPrEAD 1/2 cup leftover cranberry sauce

2 tablespoons cream cheese

1 tablespoon mayonnaise

2 green onions, chopped

1 teaspoon lemon juice

Combine ingredients in a small bowl.

Stir until combined.

SPICY CrANBErrY SPrEAD 1/2 cup leftover cranberry sauce

2 teaspoons Dijon mustard

1 teaspoon prepared horseradish

Combine ingredients in a small bowl.

Stir until combined.

That’s a WrapTurkey sandwiches are a staple any time of year, but there’s something extra tasty about leftover Thanksgiving turkey. After eating the same meal at least three times over a two-day period, it’s time to spice up that turkey a little. Try the cranberry spreads below on a wrap for a new twist on an old standard.

@recipes and image Catherine Frederick

56 taste

Halfway between Fort Smith and Fayetteville, Arkansas, off I-540, lies a little town called

Chester. There’s an antique mall, a café, and a couple of churches, one on either side of

the railroad tracks, and not a whole lot else. But snake your way up the mountain, past

the part of the road where the pavement ends, and you’ll find yourself at StoneWind Retreat, a

160-acre piece of heaven-on-earth.

At the entrance to the property, there’s a wooden bin with a sign that reads, “The Worry Box: Leave

your worries here. You can pick them up when you leave if you want them. Otherwise, we’ll take

them away.” It may sound too good to be true, but it’s not.

On top of the mountain, the sky seems to stretch out endlessly, and the treetops create a blanket

of color beneath the horizon. On either side of the gravel road, large stones stand like sentinels

Unwind@story Marcus Coker@images courtesy StoneWind Retreat

at StoneWind

58 travel58 travel

guarding the property. Where the road splits, one way goes to

the office, which is housed in a red barn. The other way goes to

the yurts where guests stay.

If you don’t know, a yurt is basically a big, round tent. It looks

somewhat like a silo. StoneWind has eight of them, and they

come fully furnished with a queen-sized bed; kitchen, bath,

and laundry rooms; dishes and flatware; and coffee, tea, and

condiments. “All guests need to bring is their own food,” says

Suzanne Parnell, owner of StoneWind Retreat. “Most people

come here to rest because they’re exhausted. So we work hard

so they don’t have to. This is the place to de-stress.”

Suzanne says, “Most folks close the door and say, ‘Leave us

alone.’” Spend a night in one of the StoneWind yurts, and you’ll

know why. They’re 709 square feet, and it’s 16 feet up to the

skylight in the middle of the room. They have both central heat

and air and a gas log fireplace. But it’s more than just the open,

comfortable space. Suzanne says, “There was a Native American

elder named Black Elk that said, ‘What’s wrong with people is

they live in square houses.’ There’s a different energy in round

buildings. There aren’t right angles that block your view. It’s a

calming, friendly feeling.”

For those who venture outside the yurts, there’s plenty to

do, especially if you like walking or hiking. “We have trails

on the property, and the Ozark National Forest is our western

boundary. So you can knock yourself out,” says Suzanne as she

smiles. “Devil’s Den State Park is seventeen miles if you go up

540, or it’s a three day hike. And if you like animals, we have a

lot of deer. One night I counted forty-seven.”

StoneWind Retreat opened in September of 2007 and seems

to be the perfect spot to rest, relax, and rejuvenate. That being

said, it almost didn’t happen. “Sometimes you have to go a long

way out of your way to get where you are going,” says Suzanne.

“Initially, this was a different project.”

travel 59

In 2004, Suzanne purchased the land in Chester with the

intention of building a nonprofit organization called Warrior’s

Way – a place of rest, recuperation, and holistic healing for

veterans. Construction began in 2005. “Because of some tax

issues, we had to be done in six months. Someone suggested

yurts because they’re very tough and guaranteed for fifteen

years. They can stand up to eighty-mile-an-hour winds and ten

inches of snow. Plus, five guys and I can put one up in eight

hours.” So that’s what they did.

However, in 2007, the IRS wouldn’t grant nonprofit status for

a place of residency like Warrior’s Way. “Our backers for the

nonprofit backed out, and there wasn’t time to do something

different. The IRS did grant us nonprofit status to teach holistic

healing classes, but we had these yurts and had to do something

with them for profit.”

That’s how the retreat center was born. “I couldn’t decide what

to call it. But the two things we have the most of here are stones

and wind. There was already a place called WindStone, so

StoneWind it was.” It’s turned out to be a fitting choice. “We’re

right in the middle of the Boston Mountains, and Arkansas has

some of the oldest rock formations in the nation. On site, we

have a beautiful stone garden and lots of large stones that are

perfect for resting or meditating.” Appropriately, one guest said,

“This place rocks!”

For those that choose to spend their time in the yurts, StoneWind

has a DVD and VHS lending library and WiFi access. But many

people go to StoneWind to get away from technology. “In

nature, your spirit remembers what it feels like before we were

driven by our devices. We used to deal with stressful events

stretched out over time. Now we do it over a day, or an hour.

Stress is higher in the cities than anybody realizes. Humans

didn’t evolve emotionally or biologically to multitask at the

level we are being asked to on a daily basis. So when people

come here, all that falls away.”

Life on the mountain is much simpler. If you want, you can grill your

own food or get a massage. Suzanne even offers an introductory

class in meditation. “Silence is a hard thing to find. That’s why we

say that silence is golden. If you don’t get some silence, you can’t

hear yourself think and you don’t really know who you are. So you

either have to meditate or come to a place like StoneWind.”

When the sun goes down, the stars come out. And because each

yurt comes furnished with a privacy deck and hot tub, many

guests spend their nights in a pool of hot water under a blanket

of stars. “The thing people forget if they live in the city is what

the night sky looks like without light pollution. Here we have

no light pollution, so you literally see millions of stars and the

swirls of the Milky Way.”

On StoneWind’s website, Suzanne keeps a “leaf watch” meter.

“People call at the first of September to see what color the leaves

are. Five percent red, ten percent yellow. It’s not scientific, but it

keeps them from calling every day. People love the colors in the

fall. But I think every season here is beautiful in its own way.”

One couple said that being at StoneWind rejuvenated their

marriage and helped them set priorities in their everyday life

once they got home. “People need a place where they can go

and rethink boundaries. The spiritual advice to ‘go sit on the

mountain’ is as old as life itself.”

In today’s fast-paced life, StoneWind is one opportunity for

people to get back to nature, reconnect with the earth, and

decide what matters most. The pleasures there are simple ones,

but perhaps they are the ones we need the most. A night under

the stars, a walk along a trail, the beauty of changing leaves – all

these things remind us that our time on earth is limited, life is a

gift, and good things are better when they are shared with the

ones you love.

Rates range from $145 to $195 a night, with typically

a two night minimum stay.

Suggested for adults, but children allowed on a

limited basis.

No motorcycles or ATVs (for safety and noise reasons).

Bring bug spray for hiking.

StoneWind also has a 1,600 square foot conference

center for meetings, weddings, and receptions. They also

have an on-site minister for weddings and elopements.

For more information, visit stonewindretreat.com.

60 travel

I watched Mama and Uncle Bud hurry away. Bud was her kid

brother. Always in trouble. Never worked much. But he sure

loved Mama.

When she came back she was with Daddy, who should have

been at work at that time of day but somehow appeared just the

same. When they came inside, they went straight to the kitchen.

Mama sat on the edge of her chair, grim-faced, unblinking. She’d

taken a butter knife, working it into the groove that held the two

halves of the Formica table together, flipping toast crumbs onto

the surface. Daddy looked at his lap and said, “Your Uncle Jake

is dead.”

For a long time no one spoke. Then Mama took over. “Thirty-

three,” she said, her voice too high. “Just like Jesus when he

went to the cross. Thirty-three and never done a wrong thing in

his life.” I didn’t know if she meant Jesus or Uncle Jake. “Don’t

seem right somehow. Bud alive. Me alive. Jake dead.”

Daddy stared at her like she was someone he used to know but

couldn’t place. I thought he would say something. Would tell us

it was all a mistake. Would laugh the way he did when we didn’t

expect it.

Instead, Mama said, “Happened in the chicken house over by

his house in Hope, a bucket of feed scattered everywhere, them

birds gobbling it up like it was their last meal. The doctor said

Jake’s heart just blew up on him.” She looked away. “Always had

the biggest heart.” She paused, rubbed her temples, frowned.

“He did have the heart murmur. Kept him out of everything he

ever wanted into. Even stopped him from playing football in

high school. You remember that, Doyle?” she asked my daddy,

and then didn’t wait for a reply. “Six feet tall and couldn’t play

ball.” And then, finally, she started to sob.

Before that moment I didn’t know any dead people. I couldn’t

Uncle Bud came running down the long path

that connected our house to Grandma’s. He stopped at the

gate, unhitched the rope that held it shut and didn’t stop to

latch it back. If the cows got out, there’d be trouble. But that

didn’t stop Bud. That didn’t even cause him to look back once

over his shoulder.

I was watching from the pecan tree, where I’d climbed to the

lowest limb. I swung down. Bud bounded the three rickety

steps and landed on the wooden porch that shook beneath his

considerable weight. I followed him inside – he didn’t stop long

enough to knock – and trailed him straight to the front room

where Mama was clipping coupons from the weekly flyer.

“Lord a mercy,” Mama said at the sight of Bud, all bug-eyed and

breathless. “What in tarnation?”

Bud pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, wiped his brow and

wheezed for a second. “Sister,” he said, “Mama just took a long

distance telephone call. She sent me to bring you back to her

house. Pronto.”

“What happened?” Mama asked.

Bud folded his arms. He looked at his boots. He shook his head.

Whatever he knew, he wasn’t about to tell it.

“Someday,” Mama said, “I’m gonna get my own telephone and

put an end to all this nonsense.” I looked at her hands. They

were trembling.

“I’ll be back, Carolina,” Mama said to me. I had started to tear up.

That’s the kind of kid I was.

“Dry it up,” Mama said. “And go outside and get the clothes off

the line. Looks like it might come a rain.”

@fiction Marla Cantrell

Jesus, Lazarus,and Uncle Jake

62 back story

imagine Uncle Jake lying cold and dead in the chicken house. I

got to thinking. Uncle Jake dead at thirty-three, just like Jesus.

And then I thought, Jesus with a J. Uncle Jake with a J. I felt like

God was telling me to have faith, the kind of mustard-seed faith

that moved mountains back in Bible times. He’d raised Jesus

from the dead, that was true. And then doubt set in. Jesus was

His only begotten Son. Who wouldn’t raise his own son? And

then I remembered Him calling Lazarus back from the tomb, a

man who was about as common as Uncle Jake. My own heart

started to flutter.

I began praying right then and there. I could see Uncle Jake

undead, raised up to all kinds of glory. At home, everything was

covered in a mixture of sorrow and busyness. Mama scrubbed the

linoleum. Daddy washed our car. Nobody said much of anything.

The night before the funeral, Mama had her hair done in town.

Put up in a French twist with little wisps of hair straggling

behind. She slept with a pair of satin panties on her head so she

wouldn’t spoil it before morning.

She was wiping down the kitchen counter when Daddy started

honking for her to get a move-on. I could see him through a

wall of cigarette smoke in the Impala, a finger hooked inside his

one dress shirt, trying to make room for his neck and his Adam’s

apple besides. I watched them leave – at nine I was too young

for funerals – and waited for the dust to settle.

I went to my room. I kneeled down by my narrow bed. I’d been

praying for two days, quietly, covertly, but now I prayed out loud

till my throat hurt. I thanked God in advance for raising Uncle

Jake from the dead. I couldn’t stand the thought of him beneath

the red clay earth, all alone in the darkness.

By the time the sun went down, I was waffling between faith and

worry. I pulled a kitchen chair up to the front room window and

watched the traffic on the highway a few hundred yards away.

It was another three hours before I saw headlights break through

the front window. I listened for Mama’s footfalls against the

waning porch, her heels clicking. In the distance I heard semis

drum against the blacktop. I smelled the wild onions that had

taken over the fence line. Daddy would be pulling them up once

he came back to himself. A cow could die if it ate too many.

I ran to my bedroom and sat on the bed. Daddy called to me from

the hallway and I sprinted toward the front room. I was so full

of hope I felt like I might ascend to heaven right then and there.

But Mama’s face was puffed up, pink from crying. And Daddy was

pacing, a cigarette in his right hand that wasn’t lit. He moved it

like a baton. And then he spoke. “It was a miracle,” he said. “Plain

and simple. Something I expect you’ve been praying about for

a good long while, Carolina. Well,” he said, and stopped by the

recliner, “now it’s done gone and happened.”

I was standing by the TV, wearing one of Daddy’s t-shirts like

a nightgown. I picked at a mosquito bite on my arm. I shut my

eyes tight, the miracle of resurrection racing through my veins.

“It’s Uncle Jake, ain’t it? Jesus done raised him up from the

dead. Didn’t he, Mama. Didn’t he?”

Mama let out her breath. “Don’t be silly, Carolina. Your daddy

found the Lord.”

I went completely still. I had to force myself to breathe. I felt like

every bit of air had been let out of me.

Daddy sat then, right beside Mama on the faded divan. He was

usually a quiet man, but tonight he seemed to be busting apart

with his story. “It commenced during the preaching,” he said.

“There was your Uncle Jake laid out amidst the funeral flowers.

Your grandma was crying to beat sixty. I thought she’d never

make it through the whole service, and then your Uncle Bud

slipped her a pill.” Daddy touched his throat. “Whatever it takes,

that’s what I say. Your kid dies and whatever it takes.”

Daddy looked at me like I might agree with him. I didn’t say a

word.

“That preacher was going on about dying in the Lord and

the glory of it when I seen the rafters open wide.” Daddy

pointed to the spot where the picture of Jesus in the Garden

of Gethsemane hung above the TV. “There in the clouds,” he

said, “was Jesus, just like in your Mama’s picture. I never seen

nothing like it. I can’t recall much of the service after that. It was

just me and Him alone in that church. He told me time had run

out. If I wanted to get saved, then I’d better go ahead and do it.

If not, I could burn forever in the Lake of Fire.”

back story 63

The cicadas were busy that night, their sound so loud the whole

house hummed. And somewhere farther away a horn was blasting.

“We didn’t even make it to the cemetery,” Daddy said. “I was

trembling, pouring sweat. Your mama thought I was having

my own heart trouble. I waited till we got out to the highway

to tell her what had happened. She started quoting scripture,

but it wasn’t right somehow. We drove back here,” he said, his

arm arcing across the room to indicate our own little town, I

suppose. “We drove on down to Brother Bachelor’s, me shaking

the whole way, trying to keep the Impala in the right lane.”

Mama got up, walked to the kitchen and opened three bottles

of Coca-Cola.

When she brought them back, I took mine and set it on the TV.

Daddy took a swig and smiled. “I believe I was the last person

Brother Bachelor expected to see,” he said. “But it didn’t take him

long to get on the ball. He led me down the Roman’s Road, then

wandered around in Corinthians, and finally landed in the Gospel

of Matthew. I said the Sinner’s Prayer, but I didn’t feel a thing. Not

a dang thing. So I made him do it over till he got it right.”

Mama was staring. At Daddy. Past Daddy. I couldn’t tell.

I didn’t sleep that night. And I sure as heck didn’t pray. But the

next night I dropped off fast. And I dreamed. About Uncle Jake.

He was sitting cross-legged on the rag rug by my bed. He looked

the same, except his overalls were starched, crisp as a new dollar

bill. “Uncle Jake,” I said, “I feel awful I couldn’t bring you back.”

And then he smiled at me. “Sweet Pea,” he said – he always

called me Sweet Pea – “you did what you could. Nothing at all

to be ashamed of.”

“I should have prayed harder,” I said, but he just shook his head.

“Nah, you shouldn’t have,” Uncle Jake said, and then looked

around like somebody might hear. “I wouldn’t want you

repeating this,” he said, “but I’d been seeing this girl who near

about drove me crazy. Wanted me to fly on a airplane to Vegas.

Wanted me to take dance classes.” He shook his head, and then

juggled his feet a little bit. “Best thing about being a Baptist is

that they don’t allow dancing.

“And the chicken business. Lord have mercy, it’s work from dawn

to dawn. I was sick to death of chickens. Up there,” he said, and

nodded toward the ceiling, “I fish all I want. Streams, rivers, the

ocean. Whatever you can think of, you can fish. Can’t keep what

you catch, but still,” he said.

I tried to reach out to him. I tried to touch his sleeve, but he rose

then, through the roof, and he was gone.

I woke up early, and just for a second I thought Uncle Jake was

alive. Then the neighbor’s rooster crowed and I remembered

everything. I dressed quickly and went outside. The wind was

rolling across our yard, the grass waving across the pasture.

Soon my parents would be up, and then we’d be at the creek for

Daddy’s baptizing.

I looked up. Somewhere Uncle Jake looked down. Faith, I was

learning, was a complicated thing. Prayers got answered or

they didn’t. I couldn’t say why. So I did the only thing I could. I

climbed the pecan tree, way up to the highest branch. I leaned

out as far as I could. I raised my hand to the air and waved as

big as I could. I could almost see him up there, setting down his

fishing pole, standing on the bank of a rippling creek, waving

back as big as Christmas.

Have your own Southern fiction story or poem to

share? You have until midnight on November 10,

2013 to send it to us. See our Southern Verse contest

rules on our website (AtUrbanMagazine.com) under

the contest tab.

64 back story

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