- J"Dang, Larry B, you sure you're writing about these
hills? In Arkansas? I thought maybe you were living in some Never Land,
way you call this place Paradise."
-
- The speaker was Jimmy Blue, a tall, lean, old farmer
who's part of the inner circle that pretty much runs this county no matter
who gets elected. A good ol' boy who wears his bib overalls with pride.
-
- There we were, sharing a canoe in the middle of that
glory of nature humans named the Buffalo National River, and Jimmy Blue
didn't seem proud or even happy at all.
-
- We'd started our day trip at sunrise, hoping for the
kind of whitewater experience old-timers like Jimmy prefer to have without
their wives, but the river was running shallow and slow. I j-stroked us
away from a sandy rise in the middle of our course.
-
- "What's the matter, Jimmy Blue?"
-
- "My farm's been in the family for almost a hundred
years," Jimmy Blue said angrily. "Sometimes we own it. Sometimes
the bank does. Now it's all over but the shouting in the bank's favor.
I got more per head for my cattle this year than ever before, and I'm more
in debt than ever before, too."
-
- He doubled his paddling speed, as though trying to force
his fury out through his arms.
-
- "Feed, electricity, gas ... you-name-it, and the
price is sky high. My backhoe's been dead since April. My little tractor's
runnin' on hope. My prostate's got me up every 20 minutes, and if I had
the money for health insurance I'd spend it on a used hay baler instead
"
-
- He broke off. Up ahead the river zigged sharply to the
left. "Get ready," he shouted back to me. "This should be
a good one!"
-
- I got ready, keeping myself balanced and low.
-
- But instead of rapids, we had a slow fall of rocks, the
canoe scraping over the smaller ones and banging those that were larger.
-
- "Jumping Jack Jumping Flash!" hollered Jimmy
Blue. "It's one thing for the things in man's world to conspire against
us, but do those in God's dominion have to join in?"
-
- I understood his feelings all too well. The cost of living
here in Paradise is among the lowest in the country. When Gwen the Beautiful
and I first moved here almost six years ago, the local economy was operating
at the level the rest of the U.S. was at back in the '60s.
-
- Our entire ranch cost very little more than the suburban
home I grew up in. The mortgage payment from The Bank of Paradise was only
a couple of hundred dollars a month more than my parents' had paid.
-
- The average lunch at a local restaurant was 25 percent
of what it had been back in L.A.
-
- Construction costs were one-tenth of what they were in
that same city.
-
- In fact, the only cost that was the same here as everywhere
else was that of a new vehicle. Because their manufacturers are huge multi-national
corporations.
-
- Over the years, though, the situation has changed.
-
- If local realtors are to be believed, we should now be
able to ask three times what we paid for our property if we want to try
and sell it.
-
- Construction costs have gone up to the point where if
Gwen and I decide to build a new barn I'll have to set up a monthly payment
plan with Brannigan the Contractor.
-
- And more and more local restaurants are vanishing, replaced
by big chains with big-chain prices.
-
- Jimmy Blue, the canoe and I bounced and slid down to
the lower part of the river. At Jimmy's signal, we put in at an embankment
before the stately mountainside.
-
- Jimmy Blue leapt out of the canoe like a man half his
age. Took two handfuls of rock. Stretched out a long leg.
-
- Started climbing.
-
- "C'mon!" he said.
-
- I climbed after him. The mountainside had plenty of hand
and footholds but was almost perpendicular. It took more energy than time
for us to climb about 20 feet to the top and find a forest of old growth
that seemed to stretch to the clouds. I looked down at the misty river,
then back at the trees.
-
- Saw one ... no, two unexpected creatures, slowly moving
our way. "Elk," I whispered.
-
- Jimmy Blue sighed. "Yep. Elk. Sure as we're standing
here." He broke into a wide smile. "I'll shoot any man says we
ain't livin' in Paradise."
-
-
-
- Copyright C 2007 by Larry Brody. All rights reserved.
-
-
- Author Larry Brody's weekly column, LIVE! FROM PARADISE!
appears on his website, www.larrybrody.com. He has written thousands of
hours of network television, and is the author of "Television Writing
from the Inside Out" and "Turning Points in Television."
Brody is Creative Director of The Cloud Creek Institute for the Arts, the
world's first in-residence media colony. More about his activities can
be seen on www.tvwriter.com and www.cloudcreek.org. He welcomes your comments
and feedback at <mailto:LarryBrody@cloudcreek.org>LarryBrody@cloudcreek.org.
Brody, his wife and their dogs, cats, horses and chickens live in Marion
County, Arkansas. The other residents of the mythical town of Paradise
reside in his imagination.
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