Tag: Arkansas History

Those of you that read this regular series know that I am from Hackett, Arkansas, just a mile or so from the Oklahoma border, and just about 10 miles south of the Arkansas River.  It was a rural sort of place that did not particularly appreciate education, and just zoom onto my previous posts to understand a bit about it.

My dad was passionate about old cars.  As far back as I can remember he would restore them, some to keep and some to sell.  When we moved to North Little Rock when I was three, he had been working on a 1919 Model “T” Ford Touring.  He put it on a trailer and brought it with us so he could finish it.  There will be more on that car later.

I also remember him with a 1923 Studebaker Touring, a 1949 Willys Jeepster, a 1955 Ford Thunderbird, and his pride and joy, a 1941 Packard 110.  I helped with some or all of the restorations on all of these cars, but was too little to do much with the Model “T”.  However, there are more memories associated with the cars.

Those of you that read this regular series know that I am from Hackett, Arkansas, just a mile or so from the Oklahoma border, and just about 10 miles south of the Arkansas River.  It was a rural sort of place that did not particularly appreciate education, and just zoom onto my previous posts to understand a bit about it.

This week I am writing about a person who may be living, so no last name will be used.  Since there were more than one person around my age named Harold in Hackett at the time, it would be difficult to identify him.  Harold was a friend of mine, and lived just down the street across the Midland Valley railroad tracks.  Harold was more typical of the people my age than I was there, not being really interested in doing well in school or making something out of himself.

Everyone has had a friend like Harold.  I liked him, but he has some issues.  One of his issues was telling the truth.  He just made up stuff constantly, and from an early age.  I often though that he should have been a fiction writer because some of his stories were certainly original, if incredible.

Those of you that read this regular series know that I am from Hackett, Arkansas, just a mile or so from the Oklahoma border, and just about 10 miles south of the Arkansas River.  It was a rural sort of place that did not particularly appreciate education, and just zoom onto my previous posts to understand a bit about it.

Since we have had a really cold snap here in the Bluegrass, I began reflecting on what it like in the winter when I was growing up in Hackett.  When I was a kid it was colder in the winter in Arkansas for the most part than it was when I was older.  A least, that is how I remember it being.  Kids tend, or at least tended at the time before video games and computers, to get outside even during cold weather, but I think that it was colder back then, and I have some memories of why I think that.

For one thing, it snowed and sleeted more then than it did later.  Now where I grew up one or two snows deep enough to build snow men is about typical, but as I recall there would be three or four snows when I was little.  They seemed to last longer, but days seem longer to a child than to and adult.

Those of you that read this regular series know that I am from Hackett, Arkansas, just a mile or so from the Oklahoma border, and just about 10 miles south of the Arkansas River.  It was a redneck sort of place, and just zoom onto my previous posts to understand a bit about it.

One of the things that has really changed from when I was little is how telephone calls are made.  When I was little, the Bell System (AT&T) virtually controlled all telephone traffic.  It DID control all long distance traffic, and many local exchanges.  Where it did not care to run lines, AT&T would contract with local or regional carriers.

Some of the local exchanges were part of the Bell System, owned by AT&T, whilst others were independent and operated under contract.  The one in Hackett was a Bell System one, but in some even more rural locations independents ruled, and they often chose not to provide service to isolated areas because of the expense of running lines and maintaining them.  Remember, back in those days modern multiplex calls on a single line were just getting started, and in those analogue days were not all that good.

Those of you that read this regular series know that I am from Hackett, Arkansas, just a mile or so from the Oklahoma border, and just about 10 miles south of the Arkansas River.  It was a redneck sort of place, and just zoom onto my previous posts to understand a bit about it.

Every family has certain traditions that they keep for whatever holiday that they hold dearest.  When I was little, it was Christmas because my mum loved it so much.  Here and here are some references to her.

As I sit here around 6:30 AM on Wednesday the 21st of December, less than a day from the solstice (thank goodness, as the short days are sort of getting to me), I recollect on what we used to do for Christmas.

This is sort of a stream of consciousness account of what I remember, a gemisch of recollections from when I first can remember to when I was older, and even with a bit of more recent history.  That is not typical of my pieces here, but after all, it is Christmas.

Those of you that read this regular series know that I am from Hackett, Arkansas, just a mile or so from the Oklahoma border, and just about 10 miles south of the Arkansas River.  It was a redneck sort of place, and just zoom onto my previous posts to understand a bit about it.

When I was around four or five years old, around 1961 or 1962, I begged my parents to get a cat for me.  I have always been more of a cat person than a dog person, but I really have nothing against dogs.  Cats and I just understand each other than dogs and I do.  That is while were still living in North Little Rock.

My grandmum had been ill with a thyroid condition that required surgery, so my parents hired a very nice black lady by the name of Sadie to look after us during the day until my grandmum recovered from her surgery.  It just so happened that Sadie new someone who had a couple of kittens to give away, so we drove over to their house one Saturday and got Lucy.

Those of you that read this regular series know that I am from Hackett, Arkansas, just a mile or so from the Oklahoma border, and just about 10 miles south of the Arkansas River.  It was a redneck sort of place, and just zoom onto my previous posts to understand a bit about it.

Friday past, instead of posting Popular Culture I posted the first half of a tribute to my mum because that would have been her 90th birthday.  Tonight I post the second half of that tribute.

Since this the 70th anniversary of the bombing of the fleet at Pearl Harbor, I have a Pearl Harbor story about her and my dad as well.  I sort of jumped to 1957 last time, so we need to backtrack a little.

Those of you that read this regular series know that I am from Hackett, Arkansas, just a mile or so from the Oklahoma border, and just about 10 miles south of the Arkansas River.  It was a redneck sort of place, and just zoom onto my previous posts to understand a bit about it.

Week before last we talked about the downstairs portion of the house in which I lived when I was young, and tonight we shall talk about the upstairs and other structures and the grounds outside of it.  The downstairs was pretty opulent, but the upstairs were more spartan.

That is not to say that upstairs was not nice, but built at considerably less expense than the downstairs.  You need to read the piece from a couple of weeks ago to get the flavor of downstairs.

Those of you that read this regular series know that I am from Hackett, Arkansas, just a mile or so from the Oklahoma border, and just about 10 miles south of the Arkansas River.  It was a redneck sort of place, and just zoom onto my previous posts to understand a bit about it.

Last week I described the lower floor of the house in which I grew up, and for this piece you need to read the descriptions of the kitchen and formal dining room.  Most all of the activities around Thanksgiving were conducted there, although there was a fair amount of football watching as well, especially as I got older.

Other than more football, the activities were remarkably consistent over the years.  Of course, faces changed as older relatives died and new ones were born, but any given year was almost identical to any other year.  

Those of you that read this regular series know that I am from Hackett, Arkansas, just a mile or so from the Oklahoma border, and just about 10 miles south of the Arkansas River.  It was a redneck sort of place, and just zoom onto my previous posts to understand a bit about it.

Except for three years between 1961 and 1964 I lived in a house in Hackett.  For the three years we lived in a house in North Little Rock because my dad got transferred.  He took a new job in 1964 with Dana Corporation, manufacturer of Perfect Circle piston rings, Spicer power transmission products, Victor gaskets, and other OEM and aftermarket automotive parts.  Since the regional office was in Fort Smith, moving back to Hackett made sense.

My mum and dad did not plan to stay in the metro Little Rock area when he was transferred there by McQuay-Norris, another automotive part manufacturer.  They were both hardcore racists and the black population in western Arkansas was a fraction of the population in central Arkansas.