Are we there yet?
July 3-9, 2017
By Jay Edwards
Eight years (and a few months) ago…
We passed through Russellville and the sky darkened, sending crooked jags of lightening across the horizon. We stopped in Clarksville for gas and it began to pour; and a minute later the temperature had dropped ten degrees.
KM drove as I stared out at the beauty of the Ozarks, daydreaming about memories that would always be near.
We phoned our daughter, Alexis, and agreed to meet her and her roommate Kelly for dinner at an old favorite, Powerhouse Seafood on University.
I told KM to head up to the downtown square and cut down Center Street, but we were detoured back to Dickson, which was fine because it was alive with young people, making their way to the many restaurants and clubs.
We turned left onto Dickson by the Walton Arts Center and the Hog Haus Brewing Company, formerly the Ozark Brewery and even more formerly and famously, The Swinging Door. KM asked if I was hungry.
“Everybody eats when they come to my house…” I mumbled.
“What?”
“Nothing; thought I heard something in the…”
“In the what?”
“In the Windy,” I said by mistake, conjuring Windy Austin of Zorro fame.
She drove on and we rolled down the windows of the Honda so the sounds and smells could catch up with the sights.
The line was already long in front of George’s Majestic Lounge, which labels itself “The King of Dickson Street since 1927.” It sits across the famous street from where I used to cash all those two and three dollar checks, at the old Palace Drug Store, so I could put enough gas in my car to get back home to Little Rock.
As expected, the parking lot at Powerhouse was full on a Friday night before a big football game. I thought we would have at least an hour wait but the girls were there already and had our names in, and we were soon eating salads.
I watched and listened to the two young women across the table from me. Could these really be the same two I had begun watching back in 1995, when they were second-graders at Root Elementary?
We had moved to Fayetteville from Little Rock in October of that year after I had taken a job with Boatman’s Bank, aka NationsBank, aka Bank of America/Merrill Lynch.
I remember parking my car on one of those first damp mornings at the new job. Just as I was about to turn off the engine the radio said that Orenthal James Simpson had been found not guilty of double murder in the deaths of his wife Nicole and Ronald Goldman. The glove didn’t fit and Juice stayed loose.
After leaving Powerhouse we headed to the other side of town where the girls lived. It is a nice place, decorated tastefully with posters and artwork, some similar to what we might have had in our own places some thirty years ago.
I bought some of those posters at The Dream Merchant, which sat only a few feet away from Roger’s Rec Room. Roger’s was a time warp; smoky and stale and filled with characters, it was a college guy’s nirvana. To get to the pool tables you passed along the large mahogany bar on the left and the old timers playing dominos on the right; stopping only long enough at the bar for a long neck and tray of balls.
KM and I hugged the girl’s goodbye and told them to take care of each other and we headed north up I-540 to the Country Inn Suites in Rogers.
I had called and reserved the room two days before, something that would have been impossible 30 years ago, especially on a big game weekend; just one more change.
Jay Edwards is publisher of the Daily Record. Contact him at jedwards@dailydata.com.
