Catherine Frederick at 479 / 782 / 1500 Catherine@AtUrbanMagazine.com
Editorial or Artwork Information
Marla Cantrell at 479 / 831 / 9116
Marla@AtUrbanMagazine.com
One word. Baseball. That’s what my family, and it seems like anyone with a child between the ages of four and fourteen, is doing these days. I NEVER liked baseball. Couldn’t stand to watch it on television, and I thought all my friends who sat in the stands, frying in the summer sun, day after day, were just plain crazy. Then my son started playing. Game on!
Funny how kids change you. They burst into your life, melt your heart, and then at breakneck speed, they’re graduating high school and moving away to college. What. Are. They. Thinking?
I’m doing my best to capture each and every moment! Take the other night for example. After our 8:00 baseball game, my very tired seven-year-old son walks into the bathroom, looks into the mirror and says, “Mama, look at my eyes, they’re sinking down like the sun.” Talk about a melt-your-heart moment. Then, I said, “Honey that’s a beautiful thing to say.” He looked at me like I had three heads. How I love that kid.
While I’m busy capturing my memories, our Bait & Hook winners are busy with theirs. Notice I said winners? That’s because we couldn’t pick just one! We had so many wonderful photos of our Urbanite fisher-people, we spent hours narrowing the field of winners until we just couldn’t narrow it anymore. Check them out on page 24.
We also have the story of a church whose private school closed after fifty-four years. Sad times, right? Well, maybe for a moment, and then they asked the question: What’s next? The result is breathtaking (and involves ice cream)!
We’ll introduce you to an Arkansas couple who are rescuing elephants. Yes, I said elephants. We’ll take you down below for an extreme cave adventure, and let you meet a man we like to call the Comeback King. Read “Never Give Up” to find out why.
And to all you dads out there, Happy Father’s Day. Enjoy!
To reserve this space for your charitable non-profit organization, email: Editors@AtUrbanMagazine.com
Newly discovered life forms, thermal vents, close-up views of deepsea research submersibles as well as shipwrecks including Titanic, are among the attractions in this deep-sea adventure.
Lantern Festival: Art by Day, Magic by Night
St.LouisBotanicalGardens
When:Now–August19th
Celebrate the Springs
Cost:free
When:June8th–10th
The City of Healing Waters has a 3-day event for the whole family. Geocaching,springtospringprocessional,gallerystroll,andtalesof the springs. Fall in love with Eureka Springs all over again.
mobot.org/lanternfestival celebratethesprings.org
Cost:seewebsitefordetails
This outdoor exhibit celebrates one of China’s most treasured events andancienttraditions–theannuallanternfestival. Theboldlycolored outdoor sets took a crew from Zigong, China, 2 months to construct. You’llhavearareopportunitytoseethisinternationalwonder,including a 137-foot long lighted dragon and a trove of illuminated pandas.
Troutfest
BullShoals/WhiteRiver
When:June15th–16th
870-445-3629
Cost:free*
Thisweekend’sactivitiesincludetroutcooking andflytyingdemonstrations, river cruises, lake cruises and children’s programs. Contact the park for a schedule.
*Does not include Lake / River Cruises and Powerhouse Tours.
Travis Tritt
Tulsa,OsageConventionCenter
When:June21st
Cost:$40
This Georgia boy is heading to Tulsa! Travis Tritt’s hits like “Help Me Hold On” and “Can I Trust You With My Heart” bring in the crowds, so get your tickets now.
Riverfront Blues Festival
FortSmith,HarryE.KelleyPark
When:June22nd–23rd
Cost:$10pernight
One of the finest blues rosters ever, plus great food and drinks! Earl and Them, Wanda Watson, Nick Moss and The Fliptops, Carolyn Wonderland, and even Zydeco accordian monster Chubby Carrier. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg! You won’t hear better music, or have a better time than you will at this year’s production called Bound for the Blues.
Guardian Angel 5K
Cost:seewebsitefordetails
Camp Invention
FortSmith/ImmaculateConceptionSchool
Cost:$215
When:July9th–13th
Camp Invention is the way learning should be: hands on, trial and error, learn from your mistakes, and having FUN! This nationally acclaimed program will build confidence in kids entering first through sixth grades byhelpingthemdiscovertheirowninnatecreativityandinventiveness.
The Guardian Angel 5K benefits the North Logan County Christmas Guardian Angel Program. Qualifying children in the North Logan County will get to go shopping with a Guardian Angel for Christmas gifts come December. Whatagreatreasontorun(orwalk).
There are three categories: Run, Walk, and Wheelchair. You can register until 6:45 a.m. on June 23rd.
Oh June, how we love you. There’s so much to do, from the Travis Tritt concert to life underwater to an oversized display of the lanterns of China. So, get your walking shoes out, or your dancing boots polished,becausethereareplaces you need to be!
Besuretocheckouttheamp’sadonpage45 for live music events throughout the month.
It’s not a pretty dance. Unlike the USO flavor of the 40s where GIs with buzz cuts and Bogey half-smiles wooed ladies with Coke-bottle shaped dresses, accentuating every turn.
Some of the best blackberries like to rest, throned like kings, bulging paunches, with thorny footmen at their sides. A few sword thrusts and your fingers are pink, shades lighter than the juice you seek.
But you’ve come for the adventure of it. To push back the prickly advances of smaller suitors, to sidestep poison ivy’s greenest touch. You go into the deep where little light passes, you’re off balance and leaning. But this is where the truth is, the culmination of earth years and finding the sweetness in your lover’s brambly hair, the ripping touch, the poisonous days you survive, to break through into the deep, where the sweetest fruit grows.
@lines Dave Malone
@story Marla Cantrell
@images Trinity Episcopal Cathedral
So, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God.
– 1 Corinthians 10:31
Trinity Episcopal Cathedral is an imposing structure, built in 1888, shaped like a crucifix, the nave illuminated with sparkling light that flows through achingly beautiful stained glass. There are apostles in the windows on one side, and prophets on the other, so that as you walk down the center aisle it’s as if these men of old are watching every step.
Sixteen hundred Little Rock parishioners call Trinity home. Their mission is simple: come together each Sunday and do something beautiful that connects them to God. And when that’s over, go out into the world to serve. The beauty here is evident, but where’s the service?
To see an example you have to show up on a weekday, in the commercial kitchen that used to feed the students who attended Trinity’s private school. But the school disbanded in May, 2011, after fifty-four years, when enrollment dwindled and funding was growing increasingly hard to find.
It just so happened that the neighborhood was in the midst of a revival. Small businesses were moving in, boarded up storefronts were going away, and everywhere the creative spark was igniting. In September of 2011, Stephen approached the owners of the nearby Root Café, whose entire menu comes from food grown on thirty-three farms from across the state, to see if they might need an extra state licensed kitchen.
They did not, but they were being inundated with requests from others who did. They told Stephen about Kent Walker, an artisan cheese maker, the only one in the state, who desperately needed a space for his shop.
Stephen spoke to Dean Jonathon Jensen. The two thought Kent would be a perfect tenant for Trinity’s Community Kitchen. “I talked to them, and since it was a brand new idea, they offered me six months free rent. At that moment I was in,” Kent says, while stirring twenty-five gallons of Coleman milk into a repurposed soup cauldron. “My first day here as Kent Walker Artisan Cheese was October sixth. When I started I was making one pound at a time. Now I’m doing 125 pounds a week. I’ve made my own Dutch-style cheese press, and just recently the Governor’s Mansion has become a customer. I’m pretty happy about that.”
Reverend Stephen Kidd remembers the day they decided to shut the doors. “We went through all the stages of grief,” he says. “We mourned, we bargained, we accepted. But our story is about death and resurrection. We saw ourselves at a crossroads. We asked, what’s next? What does the neighborhood need?”
Stephen speaks up. “We kept wondering why someone else wasn’t doing this. We asked ourselves if there was something really hard about this that we hadn’t considered, so we took on the philosophy that we’d continue to do it until we ran up against an insurmountable obstacle.
Turns out there wasn’t one. A few weeks after Kent came in, Sally Mengle and Rachel Boswell of Loblolly Creamery, walked through the door. Their dream was ice cream, and they needed a place to make it. Four Little Rock businesses now carry their products, including vegan avocado ice cream that sounds bizarre but tastes like a little bit of Heaven. “We couldn’t have done this without this place,” Rachel says.
Soon after, Leah Greenfield, a mother of two, knocked on Trinity’s door. She needed a place for her baking business, Pie in the Sky. And then Diane Rose, owner of Farm2Work, an online farmer’s market, showed up. She didn’t need the kitchen, just the loading dock and cafeteria. Each week, twelve local farmers deliver everything from fruits and vegetables to herbs and eggs. On Wednesdays, Diane fills the orders, using the long tables to do so. She and a volunteer then deliver the bags to customers at their places of work.
“I’m a single mom,” Diane says. “It used to be that on Saturdays I’d try to get to the farmer’s market, but I was usually late and I’d end up with the scraps, if I made it at all. I wasn’t the only one in my office who had this problem, so I knew there was a need for a service like Farm2Work. Also, I wanted to eat fresh, local food, but I was too busy to get it. Now, I eat better. My daughter’s eating better. I’m there to pick her up from school. There was a time when she was eating boxed cereal and ramen noodles, when I was working fifty or sixty hours a week.
“I know what it means to get to be there in the mornings and to pick my daughter up from school. I have an elderly mother I can now take to her appointments. I never could have afforded to get my own place – at one point I was working out of my dining room and living room. This has changed my life.”
Stephen picks up the conversation. “Our newest member is Sharea
Wheeler. Her business is Sharea Soup. She told me what starting her own business has meant to her. She’s no longer worrying about job security, about being in a place where she could be downsized, and in this economy that brings her a lot of comfort.”
Sharea also has a group of likeminded people to help her. The shops at the Community Kitchen hold regular meetings to discuss schedules and boost one another’s confidence. They’ve not done much advertising – most depend on active Facebook updates – but they’re all growing. The rent and utility fee they pay is about twenty-five percent of what it would cost them to do business in any other location, so their profit margins are much higher than other startups.
With small businesses accounting for sixty to eighty percent of all new jobs created in the last decade, what the Community Kitchen is doing is right on target. But that’s not Trinity’s primary goal. “We believe that God is seeking reconciliation,” Stephen says. “If people have enough to eat, if people have a secure place to live, if people aren’t afraid of losing their jobs, then reconciliation is possible. People can live a peaceful life with each other that improves everybody’s life. Hope, and promise, and dignity, that’s what we want for everyone. All these people were already working really hard. We just gave them a little help.”
Jonathon is sitting beside Stephen, nodding in agreement. “We didn’t do all that much,” he adds. “This,” he says, pointing to the tables where Diane is checking her orders, “is all God’s work. We just haven’t messed it up yet.”
There it is, the real beauty of Trinity. It is in the cheese Kent ages, in the soup Sharea simmers, in the ice cream Rachel makes, in the pies Leah bakes, and in the vegetables Diane delivers to the
tall buildings in the heart of the city.
Stephen and Jonathon look around the kitchen that is loud with clanging pots. In the background, music plays, the beat thrumming through the cavernous space. Jonathon poses this question: “How many churches have large, untapped kitchens like ours that sit unused most of the time?” Who knows the answer? But this much is certain: they are out there. And if they open their doors, great people with good ideas will find the hope they’ve been looking for to start a new life.
“We thought it would take us a year to fill the kitchen,” Stephen says. “It took us six months, and we never advertised. Everyone here came to us,” he adds, and then smiles, not exactly surprised, but instead comforted by the way God guided their entire plan.
Check out each of the shops at Trinity’s Community Kitchen by searching their business names on Facebook.
@story Catherine Frederick
Buzzzzzzz. Swat! Yep. It’s that time of year again. The insects are back with a vengeance, thanks to our mild winter. I must exude tons of carbon dioxide because I attract pesky buffalo gnats and mosquitoes like flies to… well, you know. And I don’t just get a small little red bump when I get bit. The bite site, usually somewhere really noticeable like the side of my ear or my face, swells up like a blimp then proceeds to itch like crazy and hang around for a week or more. It’s ugly, I tell you.
My neighbor has learned to sit next to me in the summer - he knows they’ll attack me first and he’ll be in the clear.
You could spray yourself with poison or lounge around in a full body net. Since I’m a fan of neither, I searched high and low and discovered a few nontoxic anti-beast remedies you should try.
Buffalo
Gnats
Arrgh! These little buggers are the worst. Vile, tiny, bloodsucking, disease-carrying devils. I’ve searched for years to find a way to annihilate them. I am passing along each deterrent I found.
BANANA BOAT SPORT SUNSCREEN. Evidently it’s the one in an orange bottle. They say it’s worked for everyone who tried it in Natchez, MS. It’s worth a try.
VANILLA. Not the cheap imitation stuff. Pure vanilla. Dilute with water in a spray bottle and spritz away. Must reapply throughout the day.
FABRIC SHEETS AND SOFTENERS. Tuck the sheets in your pockets. Wipe yourself down with them.
One guy I talked to mixed liquid fabric softener with water in a sprayer and sprayed his yard. Said it worked for about a week.
Mosquitoes
Whip up one of these recipes to keep these little buzzers at bay. Tip: mix up in small batches to make sure they’re always fresh.
MOSQUITE MASH. This is NOT for you to drink, ya’ boozers! In a glass jar, combine ½ cup of vodka, 2-3 tablespoons of fresh basil (1 teaspoon if dried) and one large cinnamon stick, broken into pieces. Steep the concoction for 2 weeks, then add ½ teaspoon of lavender essential oil and stir. Rub the mixture onto exposed body parts, keeping it away from your eyes.
MEOW MIX. Ellen Sandbeck, author of Green Housekeeping (Scribner, 2008), recommends catnip as a natural mosquito repellent. You can purchase it in oil form or grow your own. She recommends mixing a drop of two of catnip oil with 1 tablespoon of olive or jojoba oil, applying it to exposed areas.
LAVENDER LOTION. This one’s for the ladies. Add one teaspoon of lavender essential oil to one cup of unscented hand lotion. Stir until blended. Apply to exposed areas, avoiding the eye and mouth areas.
Moths
Moths may not bite people, but they do love fabric. I usually don’t have a clue until I pull out a sweater, only to find it riddled with tiny holes. I remember back in the day, my grandma had mothballs in every closet. Gag, I can still smell those chemicalladen balls of death.
MOTH SACHET.
Moths can’t stand citrus or lavender scents so grab a few organic lemons and oranges along with some drawstring pouches, or sew your own, and make a few sachets to stash in your closet and drawers. Peel the citrus fruits and tear peels into small pieces. Allow to air dry then mix with several teaspoons of dried lavender buds. You can purchase lavender buds from our local co-op, or online. Cloves, fresh rosemary and bay leaves are also on the list of scents moths steer away from, so think about tossing in some of those as well.
Plants
If it’s your indoor or outdoor plants the bugs are buggin’, try this natural remedy. Mix up 2-4 tablespoons of a liquid biodegradable soap- I like Mrs. Meyers in fresh lavender scentinto a bucket of 1 gallon of water. TEST FIRST! Spray the solution on a test area of your plant to ensure it does not harm the leaves. If your plant reacts negatively, reduce the amount of soap in the mixture or avoid using it on that type of plant. Always spray in the early morning, spraying the top and bottom of leaves. Don’t apply to plants that are stressed, when the weather is too hot or when the sun is strong, you’ll risk burning the leaves. This is a great spray for aphids and spider mites, but is safe for beneficial bugs like lady bugs. You can even add some crushed garlic and cayenne pepper to the mix - just keep it away from your eyes.
Hopefully these options will keep pests at bay the natural way. If you know of other tried and true home remedies, send them to editors@AtUrbanMagazine.com. We’d love to share them with our readers.
kids at crystal bridges
@story Marla Cantrell @image Crystal Bridges
School’s out and we’re excited. Water parks await, baseball diamonds fill with kids, and for the first summer ever we have the Crystal Bridges Museum of American Art within easy driving distance.
The Bentonville wonder opened on 11-11-11. The world-class museum, set on 120 acres complete with walking and biking trails, is free to the public. Inside its doors is a diverse collection of work by American artists from Colonial times to the present. Portraits of George Washington share space with Andy Warhol’s Dolly Parton. And Pinocchio, in all his wooden glory, stands in a space illuminated by light.
Each week there are Family Sundays, with live performances and art project for the kids. Can’t make it on Sunday? Just follow @Urban’s kid-friendly guide to make it your best day ever.
1. Stop by the gift shop FIRST. Let your kids pick out three postcards that show works of art that are currently on display.
2. Pick up the family guide brochure in the lobby, to help you work your way through the museum’s collection.
3. Make a game of it. Tell your kids they’re posing as visitors, but they’re really on a covert mission to find the art featured on the postcards. (Tell them they need to blend in, so that you don’t have to worry about them running ahead or speaking loudly in the galleries.)
4. When they match a work of art to the card, mark that card with a removable sticker.
5. While standing in front of the artwork they’ve discovered, ask them a few simple questions. What do you think is going on in this piece? What do you think life was like? What do you think people did before they had electricity or running water?
6. In the abstract gallery, where art depends on shapes and color instead of concrete images, the questions change. If this painting could make a sound, what would it be? How does this sculpture make you feel? Is it happy? What do you think the artist was thinking as he or she painted this?
When the tour’s over, they’ll have the postcards to take home. And if you go at the right time, you can reward them with a picnic on the grounds, or you can take them to the museum’s café, Eleven, where there’s a special kids menu.
For more information, visit crystalbridges.org.
@story and images
Catherine Frederick
Writer’s block. Bad. Building blocks. Good. Who doesn’t love blocks? We’ve loved them since we were babies and we’re adults now, so dang it, we’re gonna use them as the foundation of our Father’s Day gift. And whether you’re five or fifty-five, we know your dad will love them.
Ready? Then let’s get this block party started.
Materials
» Unfinished wooden blocks (I used 1 ½” from Hobby Lobby)
» Sandpaper or sanding tool
» Craft paint or stain
» Photos (you can use up to six)
» Rubber band
» Parchment paper or tracing paper
» ModPodge crafting glue
» Flat foam brush (optional)
Directions
Sand the blocks if needed, then paint with a thin coat of your favorite paint or stain. You can use just one, or multiple colors. You could use your dad’s favorite, just be sure your photos are going to look good when matched up to it.
After your paint dries, arrange the blocks in the order you want them to appear in the puzzle, then secure them with a rubber band. Grab a piece of parchment or tracing paper and lay it on top of the blocks. Trace around the edges of each block with a pencil. Lay the tracing on top of your photo so you can easily cut the squares into the correct sizes. Repeat this for all photos you plan to use.
Next get your ModPodge. It’s like glue, and in my opinion, the best thing made since sliced-bread. Paint a thin layer onto the block and carefully place the photo on top of the square. Press firmly. Now, cover the photo with another piece of tracing or parchment paper and using a credit card, press down firmly in the center and work your way outward to remove any air bubbles.
If you’re not covering all sides of the blocks with photos, you could apply some raised stickers, typically found in the scrapbook section of local craft shops. To finish the blocks, apply a thin layer of ModPodge over all sides of the blocks to seal the photo and give it a matte finish.
That’s all there is to it! Happy Father’s Day to all of the wonderful dads out there. Send us your favorite photo of you with your dad and you could find yourself on Facebook! Email photos to: editors@AtUrbanMagazine.com.
now hear this
underwater sunshine or what we did on our summer vacation — counting crows
@review Kody Ford
Counting Crows are in a precarious situation, caught between staying commercially viable and pleasing the hardcore fan base. Previous albums like Recovering the Satellites and This Desert Life featured eclectic and adventurous songwriting while Hard Candy felt like an overly polished appeasement to Top 40 radio. In Saturday Nights and Sunday Mornings they attempted to return to the rougher, folky sounds of their early work, but with mediocre results. That’s why fans have eagerly awaited their follow-up. Unfortunately, Underwater Sunshine (or What We Did on Our Summer Vacation) is a mixed bag that will leave you simultaneously pleased and a little disappointed.
Vocalist Adam Duritz and crew love their fellow musicians and have never shied from sharing their favorite tunes during concerts. Hardcore Crows fans drudge the depths of torrent sites to gather live bootlegs of the Crows’ broad catalogue of covers. It’s only natural that the Crows would eventually release a covers album. However, such an undertaking can be dangerous. While some artists have opted to completely reinvent songs, the Crows seem loath to venture too far from the source material, which offers mixed results.
The Crows have performed some of the album’s classics—“Amy” by Pure Prairie League, “Ooh La La” by The Faces, and “Return of the Grievous Angel” by Gram Parsons - in their sets for years.
The slightly distorted licks of “Untitled Love Song” offer a promising start for the album. As Duritz sings, “Throw your arms around my neck, won’t be soon to forget,” he feels at home with the material, which was originally recorded by The Romany Rye. “Hospital,” a track by Coby Brown, far surpasses the original. Duritz’ vocal sounds like a man plagued by his demons as opposed to Brown’s distant, soft tonality (which is still a pretty good tune). Their formerly satisfying live take on “Ooh, La, La” now sounds so polished it could belong on the soundtrack to the next Shrek movie.
The album as a whole plays out like this. The Crows perform at their best when interpreting more obscure songs and seem to be trapped under the weight of the more famous tracks. One can only hope that their next collection of original tunes will return them to the early days. But don’t hold your breath.
Reciting Robert Frost in the ICU
By Taylor Prewitt, MD
340 pages
@review Anita Paddock
This collection of book reviews on medical literature comes to us from Taylor Prewitt, a retired Fort Smith cardiologist. It is a joy to read, particularly for those interested in the practice of medicine and the drama surrounding it, and how it’s been written about through fiction, non-fiction, and poetry.
Prewitt opens the section with a quote, “Woe to the person who no longer delighteth in hearing the story of another; for truly that person shall be weary of life itself.” Pretty good quote, isn’t it?
One particular favorite of Prewitt’s is the biography written by Wendy Moore, The Knife Man: The Extraordinary Life and Times of John Hunter, Father of Modern Surgery. In eighteenth century England, grave robbers provided the cadavers for the students Dr. Hunter taught in anatomy class. He was so anxious to obtain the body of a young man who was over eight feet tall, that he bribed an undertaker to remove the body from the casket while mourners were drinking at a tavern. Hunter boiled the body down to a skeleton so he could study the bone structure of this giant who was a victim of a pituitary tumor long before the disease was identified.
Also featured is Florence Nightingale, who gained fame during the Crimean War aiding wounded British soldiers. She spent twenty months where “She said she had seen Hell and because she had seen Hell, she was set apart.” Two different books, each titled Florence Nightingale , written by Cecil Woodham-Smith and Lytton Strachey provide the rich history of this woman who reformed nursing and lived the rest of her life by taking to her bed and living into her nineties, suffering from obesity and senility.
Another fascinating story is that of Dr. Paul Farmer written by the marvelous non-fiction writer Tracy Kidder. In his book, Mountains Beyond Mountains, the Quest of Dr. Paul Farmer, the Man Who Would Cure the World, we meet a man, who at age thirty-five, had obtained his M.D. and a Ph.D. from Harvard, and divided his time between teaching at Harvard while living in a church rectory in a poor neighborhood and practicing medicine for free in Haiti. He went on to obtain funds from the Gates Foundation to combat tuberculosis that had become resistant to drugs in Haiti, Peru, and parts of Russia.
My favorite parts of the book, though, are when Prewitt interjects his own personal anecdotes among the synopses of the books he reviews. He tells us he grew up in a small farm and railroad town in the southeast Arkansas delta. He was the editor of his high school newspaper and didn’t know he had an aptitude for science until he took biology and chemistry courses at the University of Arkansas.
He talks about his father who cautioned, “Don’t let your schoolwork interfere with your education” and “Try to have a little fun every day.” Clearly, Prewitt followed his father’s advice. He practiced internal medicine in Fort Smith from 1969 to 2003. He played tennis, jogged, taught Sunday school classes
at the First Methodist Church, cheered the Razorbacks at most every football game, and he was a favorite customer at Vivian’s Book Store.
Several years ago, when I first heard the title of this book, I got chill bumps. It was a fantastic title, and I asked Prewitt to explain it to me. He said there were times when he stood at the bedside of an ill patient in the intensive care unit, a patient who seemed unresponsive to any treatments he tried. In an effort to gather his thoughts and decide what to do next, he recited poetry, often those poems written by Robert Frost. This calmed him, helped him think, much like the airplane pilot who is told to wind the clock when he gets in trouble in the air. In other words, stop a moment and calmly decide what to do.
Reading this book is like meeting a stranger on a plane. You immediately like him, and you enjoy the stories he tells about the good books he’s read. You listen, you nod. Maybe you cry or maybe you smile. You savor the delight of hearing a good story.
Keith Love
Cynthia Cooper
Laten Hart
Jeff Poole
Toni Holderfield
Owen Houser
JasonMcDowell
Josh Bender
Maya Crowden
Brittany Gallaher
Nick Cadelli
Ryan Denton
Christine Howard Creative Director, I.O. Metro
First impressions are everything. Your foyer should be welcoming, functional and stylistically indicative of the rest of your home.
Feeling stuck, because you don’t know how to decorate a long, narrow wall? Here’s the skinny on the entry.
Start with a Wow Piece.
A one-of-a-kind console table is a statement maker, plus the distressed finish hides any imperfections. Never purchase an entry table that will scratch easily. You want to feel comfortable tossing down your keys.
Take a Seat.
A place for guests to sit and remove their shoes is a must. Placing ottomans under a table is the perfect way to add seating, without taking up valuable square footage.
Go Big or Go Home.
Choose sizeable, bold art that says something about your personality. You want to draw the eye up, so lamps should be as tall as possible. A few oversized pieces actually make a small area feel larger.
Incorporate Warmth and Texture.
Choose a natural material rug that can take high traffic and is forgiving to stains.
Come Alive.
Finally, incorporate plants or flowers, for a natural touch.
never give up
@story Marla Cantrell
@image Courtesy Jim Horton
Jim Horton walks across the room, sure and quick, like a man who’s late for an appointment. He is dressed in a cyclist’s shirt, shorts that hit him at the knee, and running shoes. His clothing is not an affectation. Just days before he’d finished a 100K bike tour through Arkansas’ wine country.
When he adjusts the cap he’s wearing, his Livestrong wristband flashes yellow against his tan skin. Jim could easily pass for fifty, but he’s not. This personal trainer is sixty-eight and proud of it. There were times when it looked as if he might not make it this far. Like in 1984, when he was only forty.
“I’d been having some bleeding and I went to see the doctor. That bleeding turned out to be a blessing. Colon cancer is called the silent killer because there’s often no warning. I was lucky enough to get the warning.
“When I heard, ‘You’ve got cancer,’ I thought about my three kids. They were seven, five, and less than a year. I had to get this tumor out; I had to get back to work.”
The surgery was a success. The cancer hadn’t spread, so he didn’t need follow-up treatment. But the brush with cancer changed Jim. Already fit, he began researching new exercise programs and diet plans.
Jim smiles. “I’ve always been kind of extreme,” he says. “I started running marathons and triathlons and I swam like crazy. I worked harder. I played harder. I ate better. If you’re going to survive cancer, you’d better be healthy.”
Not long after, a new opportunity emerged. Jim became the director of the cancer support foundation that was housed inside a medical clinic in Fort Smith.
“I worked at a metal desk with drawers that hung, and I had a yellow legal pad and four pens, that’s how small this operation was.
“Doctors understood that cancer survival was much more than just treatment. It was the mental part, the human part, what happens in the twenty-three hours after you leave the doctor’s office. We had a simple plan for survivors: you help me and I’ll help you. The simplicity of it really worked.”
Eventually, they opened the Phillips House on Dodson Avenue, where he worked with his staff, many of whom were volunteers, to help cancer patients become cancer survivors.
“That house started to burst at the seams. We were doing nutrition programs, education programs, support groups. We found out that some of our patients couldn’t afford pain medication and we worked with the doctors to help them get it.
Sometimes they’d ask the doctor to write a prescription for two or three pills because they couldn’t afford more than that. That,” he says, “will stop you in your tracks.”
With no space left, Jim started writing grant applications, and the board started looking for a new location. They let their imaginations soar, considering what the perfect support house would look like. It would have wide porches, chairs with stocky arms big enough to hold a mug of coffee, and tall windows where light would stream through.
While Jim was running one day near Creekmore Park, he noticed a plot of land that was mostly woods. A cow lived there, so old it had no teeth. His excitement, which normally stays at about an eight, jumped to a perfect ten.
“When the owner found out what we wanted to use the land for, he was all in,” Jim says. But while this perfect plan was coming together, something sinister was unfolding inside Jim’s body. At fifty-five he was diagnosed with cancer for a second time.
“I remember sitting in the doctor’s office waiting for my results and hoping for the best, but I didn’t get the best news. I had prostate cancer.
“I had a triathlon scheduled in six weeks. I ran it and then came home and went to the hospital.” Jim laughs. “I had a friend who’d brought me some Superman balloons and stickers, and I took the stickers and put them in certain places that only the surgeon could see, and I’d drawn arrows and written little notes on them like, Cut here, don’t cut here.
“Again, I felt lucky because I was getting my checkups and I was catching the cancer at an early stage. I can’t say enough how important this is. Never, ever wait.”
He felt lucky, but his body had taken a major hit. “I was back at square one physically. I remember standing in the middle of the floor and realizing I was too weak to take another step. I set little goals: walk a half a block, walk a little farther, until one day I was back running.”
While he was recovering, the work on the Donald W. Reynolds Cancer Support House continued. “It was a five-year process. It’s a joy to me even today that I was able to be part of it, to watch it grow from the ground up.”
Jim retired as director in 2003, ready for a slower pace. But in 2008, after a scheduled checkup, he learned he had a tumor in his left lung. The news hit him hard. He remembers driving around town, not far from his home. “I had no idea where I was. I’ve heard of this happening to other cancer patients. My mind was just on overload.”
The saving grace turned out to be all those years of training, which had increased the size of his lungs by a third. The extra space would come in handy after the diseased lung was removed. With that bit of good news, he started plotting his
comeback. He’d run again. He’d swim and bike. He was sure of it. Before his diagnosis, he’d made plans to travel, and he decided he should go. “So, seven weeks after my surgery, I went to Europe, with all my medical records,” Jim says, and then laughs. “I knew I needed to get away from all the medical stuff. My wife Susan and I stayed about six weeks. Didn’t take one pain pill during that time. We took a sixteen-day boat tour from Rome to St. Petersburg to Stockholm.
“The only problem I had was that I couldn’t raise my arm over my head, so I couldn’t lift the luggage to store it on the train. I learned to ask for help. I took my time away just to think about how great it is to be alive. We walked all over the place. I felt like a kid in a candy store.
“When we came back, my running buddies came to my house. I couldn’t run, but I did let some air out of my mountain bike’s tires so I could ride alongside them without bouncing too much. Isn’t that cool?” he asks, and you see how his mind works, how a spark of light surfaces even in his darkest hours. “Now I’m running and swimming again and doing triathlons. My time last year was better than it was when I was in my fifties.”
Jim sits easily in his chair, his arms folded, his strong legs stretched out in front of him. He doesn’t worry about much. He thinks God has treated him with care, bringing him through each episode with cancer. So he plans for the future. He’s already run twenty-two marathons as far away as Berlin, and there are more to come. His bike sits waiting, and somewhere there’s a lake he needs to swim across. His goal is simple: He wants to live every day he’s been given. “So far, so good,” he says, confident his story is far from over.
1 oz. Cîroc Vodka
1 dash Grand Marnier
1.5 oz. cranberry juice
.5 oz. fresh lime juice
1 orange twist
1 oz. champagne
Shake Cîroc Vodka, Grand Marnier, cranberry juice and lime juice over ice. Strain into a chilled champagne flute. Top with champagne. Garnish with orange twist.
Sponsored by Cheers Liquor 4000 Rogers Ave., Fort Smith
479.782.9463
Cheers of Fort Smith
@image Catherine Frederick
We’re three months into our challenge to take on The Pioneer Woman by cooking all 119 recipes in her new cookbook, Food From My Frontier. Join us in the kitchen for recipes like:
Keep up with us, and find some great new recipes your family will love. LIKE us on Facebook and you’ll be the first to know when we whip up something new. And check in with us anytime, by clicking on the Blog tag at AtUrbanMagazine.com.
Ingredients purchased at Ozark Natural Foods, Your Community Market.
Chicken Parmesan
Corn Casserole
Brown Betty
Ifigure canning must be somewhere in my genetic make-up.
My grandma used to can everything under the sun and stack it up in on tall, green metal shelves, which lined the walls of her laundry room. She filled row after row of Mason jars with everything from peppers to relish to jams and jellies. What she didn’t can, she bagged and popped in the deep freeze. That thing was so big you could have fit a whole cow in there. Nothing went to waste.
If you ask me, preserving fruits and vegetables is a dying art. I was sitting outside with a neighbor while I capped the strawberries, and there happened to be several girls over for a swim party. They took one look at the berries and thought they
were ready to eat. I explained these berries were for canning. A few quizzical looks later, and one of the girls said, “You make your own jam?” Silence. Then, “Cool.” So get your kids in the kitchen for this recipe and show them how it’s done.
If you didn’t make it out to pick your own berries this year, don’t fret, store-bought berries are just fine. Canning kits are readily available too. Lowe’s has a kit that includes the large pot, and they sell jelly jars too. I love a little flair, so I grabbed some jar tags and fabric squares to decorate my jar lids. Don’t be greedy - share your jam with friends and family. I guarantee it to make them happy and it could make you famous. What are you waiting for? Start jamming and don’t forget the biscuits.
@recipe and images Catherine Frederick
Supplies
Large canning pot
Tongs
12 8oz. Mason jars with lids and screw rings (I love the quilted jelly jars)
Fill canning pot and a saucepan 2/3 full of water and bring both to a simmer. Submerge jars in the canning pot and add center lids to the saucepan. Leave the jars and lids in the water while you prepare the jam. Wash and cap the strawberries, then pour them onto a large baking sheet. Mash them with a potato masher, leaving large, visible chunks. Add 7 ½ cups of strawberries to a large pot. Pour in the fresh lemon juice, stir, then bring to a boil over high heat. Add in the fruit pectin, stir, then add your sugar. The original recipe called for 10 ½ cups! I brought it down to 9. Taste the mixture and feel free to add more sugar if you think it needs it. Bring the mixture to a hard boil - meaning you can’t stir the boiling down. Let the mix remain at a hard boil for about a minute and a half. Turn off the heat and skim the foam off the top- discard. (TIP- add ¼ teaspoon of butter to the mixture to reduce foaming).
Remove the jars one at a time from the hot water. Place your funnel in the first jar, and use a measuring cup to pour the jam into the jar. Stop when the jam is ¼ inch from the top. Use a damp cloth and wipe off any sticky reside from the jar. Slide a knife around the inside of the jar to remove any air pockets. Place a center lid on top of the jar and screw on a ring, don’t over-tighten. Repeat until all the jars are full. You may have a little extra jam in the pot- don’t be afraid to scoop up a big ‘ole spoonful and eat it. No one’s looking!
Turn up the heat on the large pot of water. When boiling, add all of the filled jars and let boil for 15 minutes. Turn off heat and leave the jars in the pot for 15 minutes more. Remove the jars and let stand on the counter for 24 hours - you might hear the lids poppingthat’s a good thing! After 24 hours, check the jar seals. Remove the rings gently and press your finger in the center of each jar. There should be no give to the center lid when depressed. If any of the jars did not seal, simply store them in your fridge. Refrigerate jam after opening.
@story Marcus Coker
@image Marcus Coker and courtesy Blanchard Springs Caverns
extreme caving
One of the things I like about being alive is being above ground. I like the daylight, and I assume I’ll have plenty of time in the dark—like eternity—once I’m gone. Which is why the idea of spending five hours below the earth, with only a flashlight the size of a half dollar strapped to my head, didn’t originally excite me. But now that I’ve spent five hours down below, in Blanchard Springs Caverns, I understand why bats like the underground.
Blanchard Springs Caverns is located near Mountain View, and offers an experience called the Wild Cave Tour. Whereas other tours take visitors along paved walkways that have been lit so crystalline rock formations can easily be seen, the Wild Cave Tour takes cavers “off road” on a 1.6 mile hike to undeveloped parts of the caverns. The brochure promised I would get dirty, climb steep slopes, and crawl on my hands and knees. I thought I might have Batman as a tour guide, but I didn’t. I did, however, have Paul McIntosh, which was even better.
Caving, it seems, is dependent on proper fashion. When I’d arrived, I was in shorts, a t-shirt, and tennis shoes. Before starting the tour, Paul asked us to clean our hiking boots in a Lysol solution, and explained that the rest of our outfits would be provided. Since 2006, six million bats in North America have died from white-nose syndrome, a fungus. The disease doesn’t affect humans, but many cavers unknowingly spread the disease via clothing that doesn’t get washed after use. Paul said, “The only way to continue offering tours is to make sure boots are cleaned and to provide other gear.”
From the first step into the cave, I was fascinated. It was fiftyeight degrees, dark, and the moisture dripping from the ceiling reminded me of a dungeon. A dozen headlamps shone out in
all directions, revealing rocks of all shapes and sizes. After less than half a mile, the sidewalk below us ended. Much like Mr. Rogers, we all sat down and changed into our cleaned hiking boots, preparing for the wild.
As I laced up my hiking boots, I took stock of my outfit—highwater overalls, knee pads with duct tape, gardening gloves, a
helmet, and a flashlight. I felt distinctly not sexy—and I knew it. However, I was soon thankful for the reinforced seat in my coveralls, because I was scooting along an area called the Grand Canyon. It was like going down a slide, made out of gravel. At the bottom, we stopped by a creek bed. The ceiling was ten stories (100 feet) above us. I felt as big as a fly in a punch bowl. Then, upon Paul’s suggestion, we turned off our lights.
It was pitch black. I could hear the creek rustling by, its sound filling the dark expanse. Then Paul said, “It’s fascinating that this was going on millions of years before I was a dream.” Suddenly, all my problems seemed insignificant. At the same time, I knew that if I were alone, without a light, I’d never find my way out.
Once we turned our lights back on, Paul continued the tour, pointing out the rock structures that have formed over thousands, even millions of years. Hundreds of stalactites hung from the ceiling, and just as many stalagmites gripped the floor. Some were the size of soda straws, others as big as my arm.
Most impressive were the columns, which are the result of stalactites meeting stalagmites. Some were larger than a high school football player. All the structures are the result of water dripping off limestone and depositing minerals as it evaporates. “They’re supposed to grow a cubic inch every hundred years, but that doesn’t really work out. If one is two feet tall, it’s possible it’s been here a million years,” said Paul.
We proceeded down a path called the Subway, stopping occasionally to look at bats or peer down a seventy-foot hole in the ground. As we continued, I realized I was essentially hiking in the dark, seeing the world only twenty-five feet at a time. Paul said, “We used to use brighter lights, but people got scared. LED lights don’t scare people because they can’t see as far.”
At the end of the Subway, we came to the Ham Sandwich. (Go figure.) It was a narrow pathway, and I had to suck in my gut, crawl on my stomach, and scoot on my back to get through it. (Apparently the rocks were the bread, and I was the ham.) One by one, we reached a room just tall enough for Mickey Rooney
to stand in. I felt like I was in Journey to the Center of the Earth, but was only 150 to 250 feet below the earth’s surface. We stopped for lunch in the Hall of the Titans, a group of especially large columns that reminded me of sumo wrestlers. Paul said, “The columns were named after the Titan missiles used during the Cold War. The cave was actually listed as a fallout shelter in the 1950s and 1960s.”
After lunch, we worked our way through the many levels of the cave. Sometimes there were marks where cavers from fifty years ago left their names. Everywhere, there were rocks—wavy rocks that looked like bacon, white rocks that looked like snow, even rocks that looked like Medusa’s hair.
At times, we walked along false floors, which are large rocks originally supported by sediment that has since washed away. They were solid, like thick Jello, but I could feel them bounce as we crossed. Toward the end of the tour, as I was side-stepping along a ledge no wider than a paperback novel, my heart rate picked up for the first time, and I wondered if should have double knotted my laces.
By the time we reached the pavement where the Wild Cave Tour had started just five hours before, I was tired, covered in mud, and ready to see daylight. But it wasn’t long before I was ready to go back, ready to put a flashlight the size of a half dollar on my head and discover an amazing underground world just twenty-five feet at a time.
Reservations are required. Cost is $75 per person. For more information, visit www.fs.usda.gov/osfnf and click on the Blanchard Springs Caverns link on the right, or call 888-757-2246.
Three elephants lumber across a field and one stops at a spring-fed pond where she reaches her trunk into the water and draws in a cool drink. This may sound like a scene from the savanna but it’s not. This is Guy, Arkansas, just north of Conway. Elephants in Arkansas – that’ll grab your attention. These particular elephants also grabbed the attention of producers at Animal Planet, nature show star Jack Hanna, and the original Marlboro Man.
@story Tonya McCoy
@images Riddle’s Elephant and Wildlife Sanctuary
A farmhouse and old farm truck are the first things you see as you enter Riddle’s Elephant and Wildlife Sanctuary. That’s because this is Scott and Heidi Riddle’s home. Here there are cows, horses, chickens, ducks, and yes, elephants. The couple moved here from Florida in 1989, and started the elephant sanctuary about a year later. Heidi grew up in Switzerland on a horse farm and always wanted to work with animals. But she didn’t know she’d fall in love with working with elephants.
“I always figured I’d work with horses or something like that, and I came to the states just to spend a year traveling around with a friend and then one thing led to another and I wound up staying,” Heidi says. “And then I heard about a course where you could learn about working with exotic animals.”
Heidi started working with elephants at the Los Angeles Zoo, and that’s where she met Scott. The two married, and in the late eighties they started looking for a place to build an elephant sanctuary. The large plot of affordable natural land they found in Guy, Arkansas, was a perfect fit. Today, they have 360 acres, complete with sturdy enclosures built from donated railroad rails.
The couple worked hard to get the land ready. They knew that when an animal of that size was unwanted, it was usually euthanized. Sometimes owners would even shoot unwanted elephants. Before long circuses and zoos were sending the Riddles elephants from all over the United States. Sometimes elephants were sent because owners just couldn’t afford to keep them. Other times they were sent because they needed specialized care due to medical or behavioral problems. The Riddles have housed up to thirteen elephants at one time.
“In the last fifteen years there’s been a shift in how facilities look at these animals, in that you just can’t dispose of them. They just can’t say ‘Ah this isn’t really working out.’ But back when we began that was still going on a little bit and that’s one of the reasons we started,” says Heidi.
The couple works with African (noted for their larger ears) and Asian elephants. Right now they have four African elephants: Maximus, Toby, Amy, and Miss Bets. And they have two Asian elephants: Peggy and Betty Boop.
Some of these elephants are stars, and not only in the circus sense.
Amy, a large African elephant, was shipped to the United States when she was just a calf. Sadly, her whole family was slaughtered in Africa and she was left with no herd. Bob Norris, the original Marlboro Man from the 60s and 70s cigarette ads, adopted Amy. He fell in love with the little elephant and raised her on his Colorado ranch. Later, author Malcolm Macpherson wrote Bob’s story in the book The Cowboy and His Elephant. Eventually Amy outgrew the family ranch and the cowboy could no longer take care of her. Amy went on to perform in the circus and later retired to Riddle’s Elephant Sanctuary.
But Amy’s not the only famous elephant at the sanctuary. Maximus, an African elephant that was the second elephant to be born in the sanctuary in 2003, was featured in a documentary. Maximus starred in Animal Planet’s Growing Up Elephant, on the Discovery Channel where film crews documented his birth and his first year of life.
And then there’s Hank, who recently caught the attention of Into the Wild star Jack Hanna. Jack, who works closely with
the Columbus Zoo in Ohio, requested the large Asian bull for breeding. So Hank is on temporary leave from the sanctuary.
But you don’t have to be a star like Jack Hanna to recognize the star quality of these goliaths.
“Elephants by in large are a popular animal, and most people just want a chance to spend time close to them, learning what their needs are, just being able to watch them and feed them an apple.”
A few times a year you can get up close and personal with these giants at an Elephant Experience Weekend.
“We host a small group of people that come in on a Friday afternoon and stay, and have their meals here and leave Sunday after lunch. And they get to watch and, if they choose to, they can participate in helping take care of the elephants and so they get a better understanding of these animals. That’s been fairly popular and people come from all over the country. In fact, we’ve had some come from overseas.”
People come to live close to these animals for a couple of days. Visitors also assist in caring for the elephants by helping staff bathe them and clean up after them. And they get to help the staff feed them, which is no small feat. The adult elephants eat between 200 and 300 pounds of food every day, including nutritionally formulated pellets made for elephants, as well as local produce, grain, and even bamboo shoots that are grown right on the sanctuary grounds. The guests even get the opportunity to take a short ride on the back of an elephant.
For a small donation, you can also see the elephants on Visitors Day on the first Saturday of every month from 11am-3pm.
For more information call 501.589.3291 or visit www. elephantsanctuary.org.
The sanctuary is located off Highway 25 north of Conway. Look for the elephant shaped sign. It’s a little tricky to find, so it’s best to call ahead for directions.
@story Todd Whetstine
@images Wild Woods Photography
The splendor of Petit Jean State Park started as a business venture of a few local businessmen. They owned Fort Smith Lumber Company and most of the land that is now Petit Jean. At first they planned to profit from all the timber that lay in and around the valley. But after doing their homework they realized they’d actually be taking a loss on the project, because the lumber was in such steep, rugged terrain.
By then they’d fallen in love with the land and started a campaign to turn the land into a state park. It’s easy to see why. Petit Jean, just a couple of hours from both Fort Smith and Fayetteville, is home to breathtaking views atop sheer bluffs, a gorgeous cascading waterfall, and plenty of trails and camping spots.
Be sure to take in the romantic story behind the park’s name when you visit the historical gravesite of the woman for which the park’s named. Adrienne, taking a new name Petit Jean, dressed as a cabin boy to steal away to the Americas from France with her explorer fiancé Chavet in the 1700s. When Petit Jean became gravely ill she requested to be buried in the heart of what is now one of Arkansas’ most popular parks.
The history of this place draws in troves of visitors, but it’s the beauty that keeps them coming back. I love to come here, listen to the birds sing their first song of the day, and wait for the early morning sun to peek over the horizon where the Arkansas River splits the flatlands of the Delta and the Ozark mountains.
Watch the sun set on the river valley from the Palisades Overlook. Or climb to the Mary Ann Richter Overlook on Red Bluff Drive where you can see the peaks of both Mt. Nebo and Mt. Magazine. You can also see Dardanelle Rock and Holla Bend National Wildlife Refuge from this point.
Walk through sandstone passageways and across sandstone boulders on Bear Cave Trail. Or enjoy one of the other nine trails ranging from one-fourth mile to twelve miles in varying difficulty, from easy to strenuous.
Rent a flat bottom boat, peddle boat or a water bike and hit one of the two lakes, Roosevelt or Bailey. Grab a pole and enjoy the great fishing. There’s also a marina for your convenience.
Take a couple of days for a family vacation or a couple’s retreat at Mather Lodge that was recently renovated to accommodate large groups, with guest rooms and meeting spaces. There are two pools, a playground, and a great restaurant. Tall pines shade the campgrounds that accommodate everything from primitive camping to RV hookups.
Speaking of camps, there are more than 120. Twenty-six of these are pull-through RV sites with electric and sewer, and can be reserved all year long. Each site is shaded by tall pines with a fire ring, picnic table, and a lantern hanger, plus a nice flat spot to pitch a tent. But what happens if you show up unprepared to spend the night? No problem. The park can rent everything you need, from sleeping mats, a camp stove, and believe it or not, a canoe with paddles, lifejackets, and tush cushions! What more do you need? A gift shop? They have that too.
Bo, my four-legged hiking companion, and I took it easy on this trip. Instead of blazing trails and pushing as hard as we could, we slowed down, taking strolls and enjoying the beauty of Petit Jean. I even spent some time in the hammock, which is unusual for me.
The highlight of Petit Jean is the Cedar Falls trail, which is an extremely steep hike where you must pay attention and use caution as you maneuver it. The pot of gold at the end of this rainbow is well worth the effort. A thundering ninety-five foot waterfall plunges down into the bubbling, boulder-strewn Cedar Creek.
Looking for a place to go this summer? Petit Jean State Park is your spot. Photographers love this place, and you’ll likely see at least one of us snapping photos while you’re there. Petit Jean even has its own landing strip. Fly in if you’d like and enjoy the peace, tranquility and spirit of Petit Jean. It’s one of the crowning jewels of Arkansas. For more information,
Read Chair Publishing, LLC
3811 Rogers Avenue Suite C Fort Smith, Arkansas 72903
