On July 18, 1947, the voters of Saline County chose overwhelmingly (by 60 percent) to go from a wet county to a bone dry county. Ten years before they had decided to go dry on whiskey, but not on beer and wine.
Since I was born in 1947, I must rely upon those who are old enough to remember and stories and ads from the 1947 Benton Courier.
My father, Robert L. Burton Jr., was born in 1921. His mother died of TB and left my grandfather, Robert L. Burton Sr., with two sons, Robert and Ralph.
I look forward to a serious mopping project with about the same degree of enthusiasm I reserve for surgery sans anesthesia or being rolled buck naked on a gurney around the courthouse square.
Domestic chores in general are not the sort of thing that get me revved up, but eventually, as they say in the commune, someone has to take out the garbage.
And so it goes with mopping at the House of Hollenbeck. The time comes when it has to be done.
The Saline County Quorum Court met in special session this week. Nobody was surprised with the unanimous voice vote at the end of the meeting. With each JP in agreement, a quick âayeâ began the âofficialâ search for a Republican replacement for Saline County Sheriff Bruce Pennington.Â
The predominantly Republican Quorum Court passed a resolution asking for Pennington to âresign effective immediately.â Before the vote, the court heard from two residents in support of keeping the sheriff. But the number in favor of ridding the office of the embattled lawman was larger and more vocal.
Itâs been interesting to hear the debate over whether to hold University of Arkansas football games in Little Rock each year. There were more than 9,000 unsold tickets for last Saturdayâs game at War Memorial Stadium against Samford. The debate on sports talk radio centered on whether Little Rock is being âpunishedâ by hosting an out-of-conference patsy game, rather than a marquee match-up.
Travel in the car today is drastically different for kids from what it was like when I was a youngster.
We didn't have TVs or DVD players and such for entertainment. We did have a radio, but mainly we amused ourselves using something that seems lacking much of the time now: A thing called imagination.
On Sunday, a little boy wearing a cowboy hat and boots moved into his dormitory room at college. Despite his young age, there was nothing that made this day more remarkable than any other.
His mother unpacked boxes and made up the twin bed in his room. She stored his clothing in the closet and underwear in the dresser drawers. She made sure the bathroom was safe, his toothbrush handy.
A quick trip to Walmart and the purchase of two lamps ensured her little boy would have a cozy and comfy room to sleep in each night.
Today, I would like to put aside my memory books and dust off a piece of furniture I seldom use any more. When I was younger and full of myself, it received a lot of use and many times got me into trouble (grin).
(Dusting off the âFred E. Ashcraft Memorial Bully PulpitâŠâ) âŠ. This will only mean something to old codgers âŠ. Also, what follows is my opinion â not necessarily that of the newspaperâs staff, management, paper carriers or readers âŠ.
The new voter identification law in Arkansas will be fully implemented by the next major election cycle. As is the case with any piece of legislation, it may or may not live up to its intended purpose. The devil is in the details, and we got our first look at some of those details last week.
A few days ago we buried Black Beauty, the cat (black, of course) that was part of the Hollenbeck household for something close to 20 years.
His passing left a big hole in my heart, but I cherish the two decades of love he gave to our family.
I donât remember exactly when he crossed the threshold and became âourâ cat. For a long time, he made regular visits to the outdoor feeding dish early in the morning and late in the evening and didnât seek attention beyond that.
This minute, Iâm busy with several projects. I'm thankful for each and every opportunity that comes my way. Whatâs more, Iâm actually enjoying it all, even when the schedule makes me a little crazy. And yet, in the midst of all the rush and work and joy, there is, today, a strong emotion, a diary of memories, an unsolicited sadness tugging on my heart. It has been there all month, maybe longer.
Last year, as the anniversary of his death approached for the first time, I experienced an odd emotion â a palatable sensation of knowing.