Jenn Howe

 

Once upon a time, a baby poet and Polaroid-lover named Jennifer was born in Iowa.  Her father (a graphic artist) and her mother (a blues singer) would move down south while she was still a tiny tot.  The area where they settled is known as the Arkansas Delta.

A few weeks ago, I had the urge to revisit the places where that little girl – who grew into the woman I am today – once lived.  I was on the road anyway, visiting a former home of one of my favorite writers, Ernest Hemingway.  Yes, for a while he lived right here in Arkansas — in Piggott, to be exact — and he wrote much of his novel “A Farewell to Arms” while staying there with his second wife.  More on that later (future blog, maybe?).

The “Delta” covers a rather large area, but the spots I knew in childhood were closer to Memphis.  And I discovered that things hadn’t changed much.

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Marion/West Memphis

The first place I wanted to see is located in downtown Marion, Arkansas.  I couldn’t believe that it’s still standing.  The once grand Marion Hotel was built in 1911.  Here is a photo of the hotel in the 1910’s:

By the 1940’s, however, it wasn’t doing so well, and the building was turned into shabby apartments.

And so it was when I lived there as a small girl.  Scary, dirty, and the cockroaches were so big you could actually see their faces.  Im not kidding — you could almost distinguish between their unique personalities because you could really SEE THEIR FACES.

And the building/apartments look the way I remember them…

Lots of feelings.

Then it was time to head over to the place where I spent most of my youth — from about age 6 to age 14.  Terrifying, infamous, dangerous.  So many shady people in one concentrated area.  It’s also where I would know/play with two of the “West Memphis Three” before that whole (UNJUST) thing went down.

Lakeshore trailer park — located right between Marion and West Memphis (allowing me to attend Marion School District)…

I knew this road (above), ah yes…  and it looks a lot better, actually.

The “lake” (not shown here) always had shoes and heroin needles and stuff floating in it.

I remember the night when a teenage girl tried to drown herself in it.  I’m sure a few weapons and maybe a couple of bodies have been dumped in there over the decades.

I used to stand in the field behind our trailer (we lived at the edge of the park) and look toward West Memphis…and the view looked like this:

That one large building, above?  I used to think it was a skyscraper.  I called it the “UP” building.

Here’s what we called “The Little Store” in the trailer park.  Or…here’s what’s left of it:

Here’s what “The Little Store” USED to look like, when I was growing up:

The Story of The Little Store

Okay, look:  my mother robbed this store one time in the 1980’s.  Now…don’t confuse her with my great-uncle Richard, the bank robber.  Or my Dad, who drove a car INTO a store…right through the front windows and into the cash registers (he was tired).  No, no.  My mother robbed The Little Store.

Late one night, my mom and my uncle Tom were drunk/high/bored, and decided they were going to break into the store when it was dark and locked up.  They did indeed get in, through a back window.  My mother lost her shoes during the fiasco, because they got stuck in the mud underneath the window and she was forced to leave them.  What did they steal?  They scored several garbage bags full of cigarettes and pornographic magazines (the nudie stuff was for uncle Tom).

The day after the robbery, I went to The Little Store, and there – in the front window, on full display – were my mother’s muddy shoes.  There was a sign that said “CASH REWARD FOR INFORMATION LEADING TO THE OWNER OF THESE SHOES”.

Well, I kept my damned mouth shut.  Money would be nice, but mama would’ve killed me dead.  DEAD.

I couldn’t make this stuff up.  This is my life.

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So.

Shall we head over to West Memphis and see my next neighborhood?

Much safer, pretty average…but compared to where we’d been, I felt rich (we weren’t…by ANY means).

It was in this area…

This was my house (above).  I only lived there during one school year, my freshman year of high school, 1989-1990.  The front left window…that was my bedroom.

Amazing how I drove through the neighborhoods and it felt like NOTHING HAD CHANGED.

And after my freshman year, we moved away to Texas, to a different trailer park and a different (but not so different) life.

I went to see my former schools in Marion, too.

Go Patriots…

I went to this school (below) when I was very small.  The space in front of the building is where I had an accident and bit a hole in my face.  Seven stitches, and a small mark on my chin forever.  Good times.  I still remember the little boy who pulled me down from the monkey bars (which have since been removed from the premises) and caused the injury while he was trying to flirt with me:  Steve York.  I remember, Steve.  I remember…

Then I went by the junior high and lastly stopped by

Marion High School…

I’d finally had my fill of childhood hangouts.

So off I went to visit the home of another Delta kid…

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Guess who else used to live in the Delta (albeit a different part)?

Johnny Cash.

It was a treat to visit the boyhood home of “The Man in Black” in Dyess, Arkansas:

It was so hot that day I had to take the belt off my dress and let the wind fly up under there.

OVER 100 DEGREES.  BLESS UP.  🔥

Talk about simple living.  Johnny and his large family lived in this tiny cabin in the 1930’s.  It sits on several acres of land which they farmed themselves.

The humidity.  The flat, fertile land.  And for many (but not all)…the poverty.  But you sure do learn to appreciate every little thing when you’re a Delta kid.

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Enough of the Delta, and dreams.

After almost dying (AGAIN), I decided it was time to stop dreaming and start DOING, by any means necessary.  I’m 42.  If it were the 1700’s, I would be considered ancient and they’d wonder how the hell I could still function.  I’ve had a good run, but the future isn’t guaranteed and time stops for no one.  “Get busy living, or get busy dying”.  That’s damn right.

All summer, I’ve been ticking the items off my bucket list one at a time, and a big one is about to get a check mark beside it.  I’m headed to the airport in a few hours, and off I go to make one of my dreams a reality.

Maybe after I get back we’ll talk about my “Big Papa” Hemingway trip, eh?  That, or something else real nice.

In the meantime, stay cool, Arkansans (it’s STILL in the 90’s???),

And everybody…just LOVE each other, okay?

See you soon, Jenn 😊