You told me you had an interesting story about the Ozarks.
He was about twenty and all smiles. He started talking in the most broken hillbilly you can imagine. If I could write and show his accent, I'd do it in a minute. However, you would not understand the writing. We had to listen very closely and ask him to repeat, sometimes, several times. Our passenger had a wonderful light hearted banter and broke down any nervousness we had. We traveled along the Mississippi as he told us the story of his life.
Once upon a time; just kidding! It was like a fairy tale thought. I will have to make up non-remembered names. When we are in a land with people we don't understand, they are moments of magic; fairy tale moments.
============= Treece Jeanice =============== Roland James =========================

You being a straight man for me when recalling some story is really cool, whether about larks or parks.
It's straight women, and what's the story?

Ozarks are just green rolling hill after green rolling hills along west border.
New freeway creating jobs, lumber mills stripped woods of oak, pine & fir.
Quilts hanging on cloth lines at the side of houses, retail prices displayed.
Women spent weeks quilting & not chicken plucking for small wages paid.

Come on, the story already, moments, poments.

ARKANSAS

(Land of Opportunity)

No, he shared a rather normal life, but for 'Roland' another interesting life's adventure began. He started telling us about his girl Alice and how she was really in love with him. Our young sailor was going to see her and make her his bride.
Of course new young officers would have to add to their load.
John Thrun & I were Navy buddies. Two bachelors without any love ties, traveling around while in advanced training. We had just visited his parents in Dayton, Ohio and had several days to get back to Pensacola. We casually traveled roads along the Ohio, then Mississippi Rivers. We saw a sailor in dress blues hitchhiking along the road.
Sounds interesting, plenty of excitement and strife.
Sound pretty normal. I could take that in stride.
Then the interesting part started. He said he was going to marry her, bring her into the city, put her to work and retire.
He showed us the letters he had sent and received. The post office was in a town named Riverdale. He said to let him off at the next road and he would get there. John & I looked at each other. We had time on our hands so we told him we would love to drive him to his love.
Now it's getting a little more interesting. Now your not writing a story, you're building a spire.
Did you label your car the Ozark Dove?
Funny. We then took the next turn and were bringing our young man in blue to his love Alice. He also promised the he would line us up.
I would say, "you ran into area some would call poor."
Yes, we were beginning to worry. But, like all valiant warriors, we sent our young man to ask directions. He came back with directions. Go about two county roads, turn at the yellow and black post and just drive in down the 'holler'. "Can't miss it", they said, "Their house is right on the county road." I didn't remember any county roads. We headed back down the road. We saw one walk path with car tracks, then another. This one had a faded out yellow and black SLOW sign on a bent post. 'Sure it was easy to see!'
Now the real story comes out. A little selfish, but not corrupt.

We drove down the paved road. He told us his directions said ten miles down the road from where we turned off. We drove 15 miles and found nothing that resembled a town or even a river. We soon found where all the rocking chairs had gone. Every house had a covered front porch, needing paint and had at least two rocking chairs. We finally stopped, seeing two old people sitting on their rockers.

They didn't crack a smile as we asked them where Riverdale was. They said, "Passed it 5 miles back on the left side. Can't miss it." Sure we couldn't miss it!

We turned around, headed back while checking the odometer for 5 miles. Got to 4.5 miles and slowed down, looking for the Riverdale we couldn't miss. We crossed a wooden bridge with a tinkling stream. About 100 feet further there was an old gray barn with some junk cars around it. Then we saw it. The rusted US POST OFFICE RIVERDALE sign was lying on the side of the steps. It was right below an old gray door.

Two young bucks with dates waiting, don't tell me.
We headed down the ruts to our destiny. After a couple of blocks I started to think this might be the wrong road. Our rider was insistent we were going right. Then we came to a stream and drove right through. It was at least 3 miles with twigs, brush, tree limbs and vines scrapping the sides and top of the car. I looked at the odometer and thought that one more mile and I'd turn around.

Went around the next curve and there were two really pretty young girls in Daisy Mae outfits, sitting on their front porch. Wow! "We're there", I thought. Stopped, John & I got out.

Our rider yelled, "Stay in the car."

We ignored him saying, "why?" and walked toward the door.

Slamming out of the door came a roaring rough bearded man. In terror, I was looking down the barrels of a doubled barreled shotgun.

I guess there might be limits in being a girl hound.
Wow! That's not fun.

Scared shitless, we stopped in our tracks and didn't move a muscle.

"What do you want?" yelled the man.

Our savior slowly got out of the car and softly said, "We are looking for Alice Bradley."

"Were not going to get the girls," I'll bet you thought sadly.
Yup! The shotgun-toting father just pointed down the road the way we were going and said in Arkansas twang, "That way about 5 miles." So we took off, this whole thing becoming less interesting. We went through two small rivers and scraped the tail pipe a couple of times. Finally, we came around a corner and there was a porch and two rocking chairs on a one room brown-gray house. Old brown pine boards were nailed here and there at random angles. They covered some of the many holes in the house.
Will our young man will see his girl in a pretty blouse?
John and I were not about to get out. We sent the Sailor First Class up to the house to retrieve his bride. He walked up and knocked. Out came the prettiest girl, about his age. He talked a minute and came over to the car. We asked him if that was his Alice. "No, she will be out in a minute and I'll introduce you." He said as we waited.
Sounds now, like your dates were fated.
"Yes," we thought. Two girls did not come out of the one bedroom home; the whole family came out, single file in a line I thought would not stop. There must have been eleven or twelve. There were so many I had to think about the count. There were kids of all ages along with MOM and POP.
Boy, that sounds like it made your mind stop.
There were two girls around his age. We waited to be introduced. Then he held out his hand and a girl, a baby, looked about nine years old, grabbed his hand. He walked over to the car and introduced Alice. I asked how old she was and he said, "12."
Scary! Fantasies squelched! Remembering might wake you up from dreams.
I wanted out and when John poked me and whispered, "Let's get out of here." I turned, told our short-term friend we had to get back to the station. We turned around and drove off, never slowing, even when we went by the girls on the porch; ignoring the waving and screams.
That is not a place for any man to delve.