Letter to the Editor

To the Editor: There are seminal events in all of our lives that serve to define us. These times often guide us and shape our thinking in ways that only become apparent as we go about the day to day business of living.

However I think that we tend to view only those events that have radically affected us in some way as the only ones worthy of that distinction.

I believe we perhaps miss something very significant when we don’t incorporate the “little things” into our experience as having profound value. I grew up in Memphis, and spent a great deal of my adult life there. I always knew that West Memphis existed, but in my mind it existed only as a place I passed through on my way to someplace else. It wasn’t until the middle 1990’s when my job regularly took me to this quaint little town on the west bank of the Mississippi River that I realized at least part of what I had been missing for so many years.

At that time, a typical work day for me started in far east Memphis, but involved crossing the Hernando DeSoto Bridge into eastern Arkansas.

Every day, West Memphis served as a sort of de facto base of operations from which a great deal of that part of the state was traveled. As I became more and more familiar with the community, I would frequently take my wife there on weekends to attend estate and garage sales that I had learned about during the week.

As time progressed, she and I would often go there for breakfast, or to enjoy some of the unusual shops and stores, or maybe just do drive around the town and take a much needed break from a faster pace.

Later, I discovered a local barber shop that for all the world reminded me of those that I had come to know as a child. I even became somewhat of a regular customer there.

One could almost say that West Memphis had become a sort of second home town for me. I knew (and probably still know) the layout of the city better than most people who grew up there, and I met and became acquainted with many of the local people. It seemed to me that their lives had somehow slowed down, and that they weren’t in as much of a hurry as the rest of the world. They were never too busy to stop for a few minutes and share part of their day.

For what turned out to be several years I was living a life that many would envy. Sadly however, I didn’t take the time to realize or fully appreciate it until recently. Not long ago, I found myself in a place of inner turmoil and unrest. Now, as a Christian, I firmly believe that God gives us everything we need including peace of mind and tranquility in our times of distress. But I also believe that His intervention in that area sometimes comes to us in ways that we might not expect or even understand.

Because recently, and for perhaps no other reason than the impending Christmas season, my mind transported me almost 4,000 miles from the capital city of Honduras back to the what was at the time a small family restaurant just off the west side of Missouri Street. For far too few years, this spot played host to what I truly believe was one of the most meaningful and memorable yearly Holiday activities that has ever been available anywhere at any price.

Looking back, it is surely the “crown jewel” of my West Memphis memories. I think I shall always remember the s’mores and hot chocolate around open fires in the parking lot. I don’t think I will ever forget the “sing-alongs” and biting cold walks through lavishly decorated Worthington Park just across the street. However, etched forever in my mind are the single horse-drawn carriage rides across the brightly lit Ten Mile Bayou Bridge and into the idyllic, seemingly time forgotten neighborhoods.

There, riders were often greeted by local residents with home-made treats and traditional carols. There, the Spirit of Christmas lived. There, the “clip-clop” of horse hooves somehow lightened the heart.

There…for the briefest of moments, troubles were forgotten and the souls were united. Like many Holiday traditions, the West Memphis Christmas Carriage Rides have long since faded and given way to more modern and perhaps lucrative things. Things that will draw bigger crowds and generate more interest. But for my money nothing will likely ever even remotely approach the charm and mystique, nor stay more firmly ensconced in my memory.

Mark Horton 3134 Milkyway Dr. Bartlett, Tennessee