The Wind

 

I find myself sitting on the bank of a lake, not far from where I grew up. Being in an extremely rural and poor area of Arkansas, we hang on to things quite a bit longer than most, both literally and figuratively.

In the 1960s, there was a thriving vacation destination in my home county, known as the ‘Wildlife Club.’ My great aunt, as well as many other locals, worked at this (what I would consider) forerunner of the Buffalo National Riveresque tourist attraction. People came here to fish the man-made lakes, hunt hogs (imported from elsewhere to tend to the guests), and just relax in the pristine Ozarks atmosphere. They even built a landing strip for those ‘high rollers’ who would fly their personal planes in to get some relaxation and rest here in the hills. The lakes were a huge draw, and were prominently featured on the advertisements and post cards from the ‘Club.’

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