Arkansas A&M: ALMOST finding Barbara

This series of posts chronologically fits following post 31, " My life at Wing is Ending,"  posted July 28. (I never have been real organized.)

      I don't seem to have a long, solid stream of memories from college, so I'll work with bits and pieces. I chose Arkansas A&M for two reasons. First, I fit right in to high school well, where cutting up in class and having fun with the guys were concerned, and in sports. But in the really important areas, for example girls, I was somewhat of a drag. I was shy, like I've said. I was a sort of fifth wheel; or, if there were four couples and an extra guy, I was the extra guy. I wanted to go to college somewhere almost nobody knew me, to try to re-focus this part of my life. I knew a lot of the problem existed within me, because I was a good athlete, and while I was not anything to brag about in the looks department, I was not dog-ugly either.

      Reason number two: I loved the outdoors. I had spent the bulk of my young life, while growing up in Wing, alone, in the mountains and river bottoms, and I loved it. Let me clarify that statement a little bit. I'm talking about my leisure time. I actually spent the bulk of my time working my butt off. I did have one constant companion, Tooter, but he had gone where all good dogs eventually go, and now I was on my own. Alone in the woods, I always felt competent, self assured, and confident.

      I always felt confident that Tooter and I, along with my trusty .22 rifle, could just disappear into those bottoms and mountains, and live there forever, and do fine. And I know we could have. Having said that, though, I must admit, I always showed up at Mom's table at meal time.

      I wanted to spend my adult life in places like that, the wild places, helping assure that they would always be there for other young boys, and girls, like me. Arkansas A&M was a big forestry school. Get the connection?Forests – Forestry? I thought it was that simple, but it wasn't. I learned that lesson very quickly when I got to A&M. Forestry majors, I saw, were all about farming pine trees, maximum number of board feet harvested, and the like. Getting rid of the wild and truly natural places, as fast as possible.

      Many years later, I was teaching in Project Land, a summer program for gifted and talented students .We were touring Arkansas studying the six natural divisions of Arkansas. Our director had booked a program at A&M, now UAM, “A Forum on Clearcutting in the National Forests.” I soon realized when it started that it was not a forum at all, but an attempt to brainwash our kids into thinking that clear cutting the National Forests was a good thing. Our kids were far too smart to fall for that, though, and some of them, and I, started playing the Devil's advocate in their program, and started asking questions that embarassed them. One UAM forestry prof was saying, “The program we support could be used to plant hardwoods, as well as pines.” I asked, “How many hardwoods were planted in that program last year?” He dodged the question. I asked it again. He finally stammered out, “The acreage was low.” The only other true conservationist there, head of the Arkansas Natural Heritage Commission,other than some of my group, stood up and said, “The answer to that question, my friends, is “none.” Needless to say, the faculty at my old Alma Mater gave me the cold shoulder after that meeting.

      I told the director of our program, that was not a “Forum” at all, and she later booked a conservation speaker at Hot Springs to balance them out. The speaker was pretty good, in what she was saying, until she later admitted in her speech, “I have never actually seen a deer in the wild in Arkansas,” and that sorta killed the heck out of her credibility with my kids. She was a California girl.

      It was with these early on mixed up feelings that I went to a meeting for freshmen one day, and they started separating us by major. Someone said, “Physical Education”, and that sounded good. Basketball and track were also a big part of my life at Wing. Right there, I went with it.

      Butch Garner started to A&M with me. But he had chosen the love of his life, early on, at Fourche Valley high, and she was still there, and A&M was a long way off. I didn't think he would endure that long, and I was right. There went my only ride home.

      I got to know Earl, who was from Hollis, only 30 or so miles from Wing. I rode home with him sometimes, then hitch hilked on to Wing. Once, he needed to go over toward the Arkansas river, deep in the Delta, to pick up a fox hound for his daddy, before we went home. We drove out dirt roads through the cotton fields for miles, it seemed like, and finally stopped at a house to pick up the dog. Another farmer's house was real close. I looked at that house. Little did I know that day, that the love of my life was in that house, just pining away, awaiting the day I would come charging in, sweep her up, and carry her off on my great white Stallion. That day was still 4 years into the future, however, and she was only 13. I wish we had just driven by that house, that day, so that I could have gotten a look at that little girl, and knew what the future held. Wouldn't that have been grand?