Only a Game? Not Around Here!

Only a Game? Not Around Here.
By the time you read this, Salt Bowl 2011 will be in the history books. I can visualize the dumbfounded look on some of your faces, but those who live anywhere near Saline County know that this is one of the biggest high school events in the state, nay the Nation! Because of the way that city limits and school district boundaries overlap, people who live in Benton and Bryant could live down the street from each other, go to church together, and still end up on opposite sides of the stadium once a year. What started as a conference rivalry over 30 years ago has evolved into “The” event of the football season. So big it outgrew both towns, and had to be moved to War Memorial Stadium in Little Rock. On that night, tumbleweeds run rampant in both cities, as the entire population heads east to gather at a huge tailgate party that rivals some of the Razorback games for enthusiasm.
Speaking of the Razorbacks, does every city have a countdown clock on the local TV station’s website measuring the days, hours, minutes and seconds until the first football game of the season? Although the University is located in Fayetteville, Hog Mania covers the whole state, and little red pig symbols adorn hats, t-shirts, golf club covers and babies’ pacifiers. For those who graduated elsewhere, the Hogs are one of their top two favorite teams. There are Razorback clubs across the country for ex-patriots who often place slogans like RAZBAX on their personalized license plates.
It’s just football, right? So what is all the fuss? When you get down to it, it’s a rather silly game. I remember hearing an old recording by Andy Griffith who described accidentally wandering into this big place where folks were lined up hollering at a bunch of boys who were trying to take a flattened out pumpkin from each other.
It’s really about community spirit, after all. Around here, football unites us. In other parts of the world, it might be soccer (also called football, but only a distant cousin to the American game), or running from bulls in the streets, or even rolling a huge cheese wheel down a hillside. It gives the residents something to get excited about, a cause to rally around, a reason to cheer.
Along with the football players themselves, other groups get a chance to show off their talents at the games. Cheerleaders, dance teams, and marching bands add pageantry and variety, and bring along their own very vocal cheering sections. These teams also compete at their own exhibitions, and the Ouachita Area has been fortunate to bring home many state and national trophies. You may see things at half time that you’ve never expected, like routines featuring Broadway show tunes, or movie themes. Dancers dressed as Cats, and strange noises that suggest Jurassic dinosaurs keep you wondering how next year’s students will top this year’s show. Once, we witnessed a whole marching band “disappear” under a giant tarp, causing a collective gasp in the stands. Not sure what old John P. Sousa would think of that, but it was great fun to watch!
Family traditions are born that span generations. If your Grandpa and your Dad were fans of a certain team, you most likely will be too, no matter where you went to school. Attending games together gives you common “war stories” to share for years afterwards. When you can’t be there in person, you can tune in on the TV or radio, and share the experience across the miles. Our family has often updated each other with text messages and emails when one member lives out of range of the broadcast.
I guess my favorite story of how football and the Salt Bowl affects us took place several years ago when a friend’s son joined us at the big game during a few hours of leave from military training at Camp Robinson. He received a phone call from someone who was on base. What we could hear of the conversation went something like this:
“Yeah, I’m with my Dad at a high school football game …. Well, it’s actually in Little Rock, at War Memorial Stadium …. No, my brother graduated a few years ago …. No, we don’t know anyone who’s playing on either team ….. Well, it’s just what you do on a Friday night around here…. Yeah, pretty cool… Okay, see you soon.”
Go Hornets, and Woo Pig Sooie!

Reunions- Why Bother

Of all the reasons that humans gather into groups, reunions of any kind have the worst reputation. You’ve heard all the old excuses. Boring, a bunch of people I don’t remember, etc, etc. You can find negatives if that’s what you’re looking for. But for me, the positives far out-weigh them.
The three I’m involved in are all groups that I was not born into. The Hunt Family, who meets at Petit Jean each May were forced to accept me when James Carlisle chose me as his permanent pot-luck partner. The Bryant High School Class of 1975 fully adopted me, though I only attended school with them for that last, all-important year. The Tuggles of Hot Spring County also inherited me, when one of their sons married a woman from Kansas with two teen-aged daughters. In all three cases, I feel included, legalities aside.
The most important thing about re-uniting is that we keep doing it. If you compare the possible guest list to the number that actually show up, it can be discouraging. Rather, I just like to enjoy and encourage those who do make the effort.
Family reunions are fun because they have the potential of growing and continuing. You start with a core group (the first generation) and invite all of their descendants. That number grows exponentially each year. (Do I get extra credit for that word?)The key is to get the younger ones interested. The Hunt family accomplishes this by holding their gathering at one of the most beautiful places in Arkansas-maybe the whole world: Petit Jean State Park. Little ones will have memories of standing on the banks of the creek with a fishing pole. “I remember the year (they’ll tell their own kids) that the water was so high we couldn’t stand here. We had to move up to that spot.” (Pointing back toward the pavilion). Or- “I remember once when Uncle so-and-so led us on a hike after lunch, and Mom and Dad were waiting on us when we got back. They already had everything loaded in the car.” The love and acceptance we feel here keeps us coming back.
At the Tuggle reunion in September they take pride in the old recipes. There are conversations about who makes the best chocolate pie. Memories being swapped recall family gatherings after church, lots of laughter and happy times. Here again, all hope is invested in the next generation. I talked with a young lady who was very happy to tell me all about the book she had brought along to read. But, the all important question was “When do we get to eat?” Of course, documenting the family history is another focus of the day, and my Mom is proud to be the keeper of the family trees. Her table attracted lots of interest with people wanting to be sure they understood how everyone was connected, and making sure she had listed all of the newest grands and greats. One young man was very interested in her story of a Tuggle family cemetery in Tennessee that had been destroyed during the construction of a new sub-division. “Why would they do that?” he asked her. Why indeed.
Best of all are the stories- happy memories and even sad ones. We can gain new insight into how our relatives made it through- and came out smiling.
The High School reunion has an entirely different vibe. Unfortunately, this group is destined to only get smaller as time goes by. So, the focus is on really enjoying each other’s company each time we can. For the Bryant High class of 1975, much of the fun is in the planning. Friendships are formed between people who never “hung out” together when they were in school. More than one activity is planned, so that those with different interests will be intrigued. We try to make it worthwhile for class members who travel in, while keeping the costs down. Once there- it’s all about happy hugs and handshakes. We laugh together because there is no need for pretense. No need to try to impress anyone with who you are today. We know all about you, where you came from, the silly things you did when you were young. It’s all about the roots we have in common, and even the struggles we’ve been through since we threw those blue mortarboards in the air. Through all the ages and stages, you’ve still got friends who understand. So, Hornets, if you need details about the 35th, give me a shout at www.jennycarlisle.net. Can’t wait to see you the first weekend in November!
Next time you’re invited to a reunion- don’t just send the letter to the shredder. You might be surprised how much you enjoy it!

Nature vs. Nurture: Hand-me-downs Happen

Nature vs. Nurture: Hand-me-downs Happen

I have never been considered a scientist. Just ask Mr. Peek from Bryant High School. One topic though has always intrigued me. How do family traits get passed down from one generation to another, and just exactly what kinds of things are coded in our DNA?

 Physical characteristics are easiest to track. Some families have extremely strong resemblances.  Our newest grandson was almost an exact copy of his brother when he was tiny. I’m convinced I could walk down any street in Saline County and randomly guess a person’s last name, or their mother’s maiden name. So far, my husband has successfully curtailed this experiment.

Other things are quite obviously learned. Just watch a four year old boy, like our grandson, walking behind his Daddy. He will practice and practice until he gets every movement and nuance down perfectly. Even the make-believe games our eight year old plays mimic his parents’ careers and hobbies. Play leads to interest, which leads to following in foot-steps.

But when a child behaves like a relative he has had little or no contact with?  Just how does that happen? Our almost three year-old grand-daughter has a way of looking at her brother with exactly the same “bless his little heart” facial expression of her great-grandmother. As we were leaving a restaurant recently, I looked back to see her clutching her coat, and walking with the same halting gait. Positively spooky.

My middle son inherited his blue eyes, hair color and complexion from my father. Though they didn’t spend any time together until my son was grown, he also has the same sense of humor, the kind that with little or no effort keeps everyone around them in stitches. Even the way he laughs is eerily similar.

We may even have an example of traits being repeated by marriage.

It takes a special man to play a trombone. The instrument is a little awkward to hold and makes a very unique noise, especially until one learns to play properly. Those who choose it usually have long arms, a good sense of humor, and a certain amount of natural leadership ability. Remember: 76 trombones LED the big parade. My father played the trombone in high school. When I found my future husband, he too was a trombone player. My daughter also married one.

          The activities one chooses in life can be influenced by the values learned in his or her family. You might hear someone say “Our people have always done that.” My father-in- law was a very active worker in the local group of believers. He concerned himself with the nuts and bolts of keeping things going, paying the bills, scheduling speakers. While researching his family tree, I found that his ancestors were among the founding families of another fellowship. “Brother Carlisle volunteered to procure new songbooks.” His son, my husband, performs exactly the same sort of valuable service today. Our son (who by the way also played the trombone) is now planning a Men’s retreat for his congregation.

          My mother, like her mother before her, is very committed to recording the happenings of each day on her calendar. Looking back, we can discover the high and low temperatures, significant news events, family birthdays, and who happened to call or come to visit on any particular day. This tendency skipped a generation, as most of my writing is done for pure enjoyment. But, my daughter carries on in a more updated fashion. She has not one, but two blog sites where she posts pictures, relates the events in her life, and even gives cooking tips.

          So where does all this rambling lead? It gives me hope for the future. Somehow, I know that the McLeod/Carlisle descendants will always be folks I would recognize, someone that others will enjoy being around. It takes a lot of love and prayers to raise a family. But a little bit of unexplainable inheritance doesn’t hurt either.