Akansas Delta Ramblings

Driving Miss Naomi

I knew I was in trouble when Miss Naomi, an octogenarian friend of mine, wrote me an e-mail recently. She promised me a meal out at Charlotte’s in Keo as an enticement to drive out to her house in Scott from Maumelle. Now natives of Little Rock all know that Charlotte’s has the most delectable pies in all the world to sell. On any given day, one can walk into the restaurant and see and smell in the bakery case beautifully-laden meringue pies of all kinds—coconut cream, chocolate cream, banana cream—along with several choices of cakes—chocolate, red velvet, and Italian cream. The sweet scents of chocolate and sugar waft through the air, and it is all one can do to wolf down a quick sandwich to get to the dessert choices.
On this particular day, Naomi asked if I would drive her over one day soon to Des Arc. I knew that she was working on a project to photograph dying towns in the Delta and to write about their past and present history. As I munched on my parmesan-encrusted bread with its filling of turkey, avocadoes, and a special dressing, I heard myself saying, “Well, I can commit to one trip perhaps, but I don’t know if I can for the other forty-nine towns you want to write about.” Miss Naomi was happy, I think, to have new traveling companions (my husband was invited also) since her previous partner, Charlie, had died unexpectedly the month before. “Now when we go on the trip, I’ll buy you the best catfish dinner you ever ate.” Once again, I knew she had me at the word “catfish” this time.
We started out for Des Arc the week before Thanksgiving. Miss Naomi was already emphatic that we would not be getting onto the interstate but would take the back roads instead. Miss Naomi’s assistant, Rhonda, who is a jack-of-all-trades, helps her by cleaning her house and taking her on errands to Wal Mart while at the same time working as a waitress at the 76 Station and being a full partner at her husband’s farm. She put one of Miss Naomi’s three walkers into the back of our little Vibe, made sure bottled water would be taken on the trip, and seemed happy when I told her I had brought along some sugar-less pumpkin bread since Miss Naomi has diabetes.
Our first stop in Des Arc was the court house where we took a couple of pictures and the sign in front of it with Miss Naomi’s throwaway camera she had brought for the occasion. I had hoped to use my digital camera to get some better pictures perhaps, but as usual, my batteries were dead. We next went to the Lower White River Museum for a few pictures and took photographs of a number of dilapidated, empty houses in the little town. By that time, we were ready for that “best catfish ever” downtown at a little diner named T. J.’s. The restaurant filled up quickly even before noon with all kinds of working men who had no doubt come for the blue plate special of hamburger steak, as well as many hunters in their camouflage since deer season was in full swing. The trucks outside the window were loaded with shotguns in the back windows and deer stands. We enjoyed the perfectly cooked catfish, hushpuppies, and cole slaw before we walked a few steps down Main Street to try the door of the thrift shop in town. The sign said it would open at 1 p.m.
Since we had about forty-five minutes to kill before then, we drove to another nearby town on Miss Naomi’s list for research—Cotton Plant. We took a number of pictures, finishing the roll, and headed back to Des Arc to “go junking” as Miss Naomi called it. When we arrived back in Des Arc, we noticed a number of ladies already in the shop, examining everything from clothes to old knives to designer perfumes. “These perfumes,” said the clerk to everyone who walked close to the counter, “sell here for $15 each; they are $75 at department stores.” I stopped to examine the brands and saw they were indeed name brands like Liz Taylor’s “Diamonds,” Calvin Klein’s “Escape,” and others. One woman put her wrist to my nose and said, “Here smell this; doesn’t it smell good?” She then proceeded to buy several bottles and then announced, “I want some more, but I’ll have to go home and pick up some more pecans to sell before I can come back.”
Miss Naomi discovered a number of small items to buy such as a Santa Claus mug for a relative who collects them, an old Elvis Presley LP of hymns, and a knife made in China for another. She was happy with her bargains. Even I could not resist the enticing items before me and carried out of the store two white sacks of dishes and bowls originally sold at Pier One. They were delicate glass dishes decorated with blueberries with green leaves surrounded by yellow trim. My husband, who is not a fan of thrift shops, had sat in the car while Miss Naomi and I were “junking.” He just shook his head as I deposited my sacks alongside the walker in the back of the Vibe.
Miss Naomi regaled us on the trip with many stories about her distant past as well as her present life. She was a student at the University of Iowa writing program years ago. Her doctor has just given her a bit more time since she was diagnosed with breast cancer a few years back. Miss Naomi told us that day that she had already visited Des Arc and Cotton Plant for pictures and research a few months back. My husband and I wondered each to ourselves, of course, what the purpose of our presence had been. Did Miss Naomi just want to have a day trip with good friends? Did she need someone to listen to her own memories of the past and to listen to her concerns about the shorter, darker days which lay ahead for her? Heck no . . . we both concluded it was all about the food. When we left her back in Scott, we knew once more we had been had with her initial promise of tasty, delectable dishes. We watched her as she plodded up to her doorstep with her walker, “Now remember, Miss Naomi, we want to try that other great catfish place in Georgetown soon.”