Arkansas

I dipped a toe in, once.

I was thirteen years old. My parents’ friend Ruth took me on a trip to Memphis, on a plane. (I think I’d been on a plane once before, as a small child, before logging memories.)

A couple of years earlier, Ruth had fixed me up with her niece, Margaret, in a pen-pal situation. I was going with Ruth to visit the family and hang out with Margaret.

It was a fun trip, but a stressful one that included a severe sunburn, insomnia, and ill-timed menses.

They drove me all around Memphis, past Graceland, where Elvis still lived.

Then we crossed the Mississippi into West Memphis, just so I could say I’d been to Arkansas.

Truly, I would love to see some of Arkansas. I have a couple of dear friends who grew up there. They represent well.

I’d like to check out the hot springs, play outside.

Maybe I can approach that Gulf states tour from just north.

Been there?: Yes but No