We Are Known by Our Victories

We Are Known by Our Victories

Ever notice that when you speak of a person or a thing, you speak of their reputation instead of their looks, or their attributes or their personhood?

That’s because we are all known by the things we have overcome in our lives. West Memphis is known for overcoming the urge that surrounding communities near Metropolitan Memphis have all succumbed to — to be urbanized to the detriment of the populace, or to be hardened toward their citizens, or to love things and use people, instead of what they should do — love people and use things.

On the whole, there is not the faction-against-faction mentality one sees on display too often in such metropolitan settings — with the possible exception of the ‘Text the Times’ newspaper submissions every once in a while, where folks seem to be unable to resist calling out folks in their criticisms, or stoop to name-calling instead of addressing local problems head-on.

Anyone who moves here notices at once the more relaxed atmosphere, the emphasis on individuality instead of generalities, and a more temperate and respectful civility.

And so, West Memphis — again, in the main — wins out in this respect.

Marion as well shares the same type of lifestyle approach.

Both towns were sprung from more rural farmer roots, and a relaxed Arkansan attitude toward life.

Believe me… I know. I was raised and educated in Memphis.

From my childhood, I can tell you there was never a touch, a hint, or a suggestion of commonality of thought, deed, or word in the larger districts within the confines of the city limits of Memphis that even approached the good will of this area of Eastern Arkansas.

And we moved three times while I was living there.

Yet, after all those moves, there was never a feeling of bonding with the neighbors in those communities after those moves. It seems there was always the guy down the street who made too much noise and came home late and beat his wife and child. There was always the nosy person next door who was snooping on others and reporting everything to anyone who would listen, like a scout on a front line would send dispatches to headquarters on enemy movements.

There were kids who were doomed to juvenile delinquency and others who were too good to talk to you, and that’s because their parents were also too good to talk to you.

We knew who they were, we knew their names, and did not bother to try to change them.

I found very little of that when I moved to Arkansas years ago. Typically, folks were — and still are — quite reasonable. And I have relished living here, with the more laid-back attitudes of others about me, minus the drive more in evidence in the larger world picture to control, to defeat, to rend others until they bow to our wills.

Here, who cares if you agree?

It reminds me of the contrast by the philosopher, Montaigne; that it seems more profitable and comfortable to live with a dog you do know, instead of being surrounded by people you don’t know.

And I like pets. Most folks in this area also like vineripened tomatoes, well-broken old leather saddles, reliable pick-up trucks, and low mortgages.

I’m down for that struggle. Who needs a house note larger than the national debt?

If you believe what you see on those television shows, where they go out and buy houses for young folks these days and spend a hundred-thousand bucks remodeling them after they do… I mean, what’s the point?

Most of them look good to me BEFORE the remodeling jobs.

What the heck is wrong with them in the first place? Whatever happened to living within your means?

You notice that about Arkansans.

I heard a farmer quip the other day: “If you can’t make a dime, make a nickel.”

Contrast that with most Memphians, who would argue: “If you can’t make forth-thousand a year in wages, just quit and take twenty-thousand in welfare and another twenty in food stamps. There’s your fortythousand.”

It’s all in the attitude.

And you do not forget good folks.

I walked into the polling place the other day and someone behind me said, “There’s Robert Hall.” They followed the comment by saying, “Bet you don’t remember my name?”

I turned and saw a lady I used to work with many years ago.

Instantly, I shot back, “Bet I do, Betsy Sue,” (although Betsy Sue was not the real name of course.) Everyone in the place laughed.

I did not forget her, because she was a good person who I recalled at once and whose friendship I valued.

And that’s the way I feel about most people in this area who I know.

And so, Marion and West Memphis, I — as most would probably agree — think that you have earned a victory over others in this area. You are both places with a heart for your people.

That is how you are known — for your victories in that respect.

Let’s hope you never lose that reputation.

By Robert L. Hall