by Shea Fogerty

I love a good home tour, getting to see the creative side of another family.  Coming away with inspiration to get out and create.  So today, I wanted to step that up a notch and provide you with my hometown tour.

Welcome to Arkadelphia!

As you enter town, you are greeted by the local water tower with our slogan “Arkadelphia It’s a great place to call home!” In 1998, we were nearly whipped off the map by a huge EF-4 tornado.  Not long after, this slogan was created and efforts were ramped up to make our sweet town a wonderful and revitalized home.

I love that we still have a historic downtown area, even after all that destruction.  Thanks to the Downtown Arkadelphia movement, it is continuing to grow.  We have been able to enjoy block parties and yearly festivals such as the Arkadelphia Crawfish Festival and Arktoberfest.  You can find the old, our library, and the courthouse; along with the new, Slim and Shorty’s is a great place to grab a burger and catch a game.

Just off the downtown area, you will run into our two local colleges.  Arkadelphians are divided on all college matters, especially in November; you can either be a Henderson Reddie or an OBU Tiger, but you can’t be both. 

Come one November Saturday afternoon, the battle heads across the ravine in what has been nationally touted as the shortest away game on record.

Besides being known for the town with two colleges, we are also the town of two rivers.  It is just outside of town that the Caddo and the Ouachita merge.  Summer days are often filled with float trips, boat rides and snow cones down at Cajun Snow.  Or, if you want some wild water fun, you can visit our Aquatic Park.

Before you leave town, make sure to stop by for some good ol’ BBQ and a sweet treat.  There really is something for everyone here in small town Arkadelphia. 

Shea blogs over at The Fogue Abode.  She loves writing about thrifty ways to decorate your space.  They are currently fixing up their version of a fixer upper.  Besides a novice interior decorator, she’s also a rookie mom.  If she it’s not paint in her hair, that may be baby powder.   Check her out on Facebook, Pinterest and Instagram.

By Jessica Bauer

I grew up with a slice of the good life.

I’m not saying my childhood was all rainbows and sunshine {though it was pretty fantastic}, I literally grew up next to some of the sweetest slices in Arkansas. I may not have been born in Hope like more prominent figures, but I landed in that small southwestern town the same year Bill started politicking.

Known for gigantic watermelons and our 42nd president, Hope is more to me than a tourist attraction map dot. When I think about the word hometown, I’m drawn to the first time I realized what it meant to me. When we were teenagers, our biggest dream was to leave that population sign in the dust. We were desperate to pack down our cars with dorm room bedding, shower shoes, and money from mom. We would light up the highway as soon as one of the few traffic lights turned green.

We were tired of a town that shut down at 9:00 and the same two restaurants every Sunday after church. Although folks on every Walmart aisle knew our names, it was just a tiny chapter in our much bigger books. Boy, were we ready to turn the next page.

On a hot May day in 2002, we threw our red caps into the air and we left. We parted ways for brighter cities that stayed up late, more places to spend our limited cash supply, and hordes of people who didn’t think twice about our back stories. It was different and new and we could be whatever we wanted to be. I didn’t think much about my hometown as I settled in a college life that was brimming with opportunity for change. That is, until I made that first trek home.

Driving south on I-30 from the industrial scenery of central Arkansas, a comfort crept in with each mile. Three lanes slipped back to the simpler two in Benton. I passed Arkadelphia and the trees began towering in the median. I spotted the Prescott exit and caught the first field of cows I’d noticed since I had left home. I remember thinking how funny it was for me to notice cows. Then I saw the brown sign welcoming me to the Birthplace of Bill Clinton.

I was home again. I was headed back to home-cooked meals in the place that raised me. I flew through time and saw myself sitting in the grass wiping watermelon off my shorts, dining on a club sandwich at Cherry’s Soda Fountain, and lining up to perform on the football field. I caught myself in awe of the town I was so ready to escape. You can go home again, and while that lesson first sunk in at a tender 18 years old, it has stayed.

Maybe Bill said it first 24 years ago, but I do believe in a place called Hope. My hometown is an important location for me, but more so, it’s a comfort I didn’t know I had until I left. Maybe the place I’m raising my bunch will provide the same. When my kids finally make their escape, I hope they’re just as eager to follow the winding road home.

Jessica Bauer is a small-town girl raising her bunch deep in the heart of Arkansas. She blogs at Life With the Bauer Bunch (www.thebauerbunch.com) to share stories and lessons she’s learned along the way. Her parenting strategy in a few words: “I figure it out as I go, I keep my fingers crossed, and I exhale when I feel like I get it right.” Stop by and visit her sometime!

Blog: www.thebauerbunch.com

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