“The sidewalk is terrifying. Be careful!”
This popped out of my mouth so fast and strong a few days ago on my morning walk that I stopped and turned around to see if someone else was yelling it over my shoulder.
I mean — WHO AM I — I don’t talk to strangers!
I don’t usually, but there I was in the middle of the street slinging Southern charm all over the place. Lord, I couldn’t help myself. I was talking to the two cutest ladies who have ever existed in the history of planet Earth. We were all out in the early morning exploring the historic district of Eureka Springs, Arkansas.
For heaven’s sake … look at this house…
…she needs a little TLC, but isn’t she gorge?
Oh, my goodness, these ladies were adorable. They had on their cute little brightly colored walking outfits complete with hiking sticks, GIGANTIC sunglasses and jaunty hats. I literally clutched at my heart the second I saw them. Either of them could have been your mother or mine, just so cute and sweet they made my teeth hurt. Both so precious there on the busted sidewalk, unsteady on their feet, taking pictures, smiling ear to ear. I was legit worried for their welfare.
“Thank you, darlin! You sound like you have a lot of experience.”
I smiled at them and laughed to myself while walking away because she was right. I’ve been moments away from falling to my death several times on this trip. I’m not kidding, the sidewalks are bananas but also we’re basically on top of a mountain … so … say a little prayer.
I’m in Eureka for a writing residency at The Writers’ Colony at Dairy Hollow. Yes, please click that link and apply to come here as soon as possible (and ask me all the questions). I’m writing this from the cutest writing suite. I’m here to convert the solo show I performed this summer into a memoir. I’m actually DOING that work, but I’m also running around charming your mom on the street, shopping at antique stores, looking at old mansions, eating everything in sight, and answering one zillion work emails. The life of an artist is complicated.
It’s sorta weird being in Arkansas. I mean this respectfully, but also … who visits this place. Those of you reading this who aren’t from Arkansas probably have a lot of opinions about it. Hell, even those of us who are from here have a few thoughts. I certainly do! We’ve all read the news, we know about the politics and that governor and her podium and red state mentality … blah, blah blah. There are plenty of reasons to steer clear of this whole section of the country. That’s what a lot of folks might think, and even myself sometimes, but this is my home.
I’ve really been feeling that a lot on this visit. These are my people and this is my home. Don’t get excited. I belong in Chicago where I live, Chicago is my HOME and I’m not making plans to move back here anytime soon but these cute little ladies on the street and these accents and the mountains and all this fresh air and everyone saying hello all the time and good morning and waving from their cars whether they know a person or not and the smiling RIGHT AT YOU and talking too much about things nobody asked and Razorbacks on every single thing and the hills and the biscuits and gravy and omg the magnolia trees and even this damned janky sidewalk … they’re all mine. This place is the sugar and spice and everything nice that mixed itself up and made me.
I was born and raised in Arkansas and ran out of here as fast as I could after college graduation. This big beautiful place wasn’t enough for me. No, ma’am! I scrubbed the accent from my mouth as best I could and took off. I needed the city and city noises and people with different accents, and art museums, and diversity of all kinds and opportunities I couldn’t find in Arkansas at the time like a bigger queer community with more than one gay bar and the space and freedom to learn how to be the grown-ass sometimes confident, thriving and happy (omg I am so happy) artist and queer person I have become.
It has been — as some here might say — a far piece (Ha!) since I was young and running around here anxious to get somewhere else. I couldn’t get out of here fast enough! I didn’t know then you could hold two things in your hands. You can both be frustrated and full of rage over the politics of the place you’re from and still love and adore it.
It has been so easy over the years to forget that there is value in these hills and these charming-ass people, but as I get in my car and start the drive back to the Windy City I want to thank those ladies on the busted sidewalk for reminding me that in spite of my best efforts I really am a person who might talk to strangers on the street. Thank you to all those folks who said hello and good morning and waved at me on my walks, and called me sweetheart and fed me well and reminded me that this place … this big magical gorgeous and majestic place … much like Chicago … is more than all the garbage that is spat out at us on the evening news. I love you Arkansas, and how proud and thankful I am to call you mine.
Whatcha Doin???
reading: I just finished Demon Copperhead by Barbara Kingsolver. It's so good and sad and gave me all the feelings and you should read it right this second. I’ve been so stunned after finishing it I can’t figure out what to read next.
teaching: I’ll be teaching a storytelling/live-lit class in early 2024 through Story Studio Chicago. Here’s the link for more info. If you’re in the Chicago area … sign up for it! No experience necessary. It’ll be fun I promise! We’re going to write a lot and do a show together.
Wonderful to read about your relationship with Arkansas. Audre and I are actually headed there over Thanksgiving break we’re going to the big museum in Bentonville. I think it’s called Crystal Gardens or something and then drive around the Ozarks.. can’t wait to judge your neighborhood!! ❤️ Love to you and Andy and keep up the amazing work, you genius you!
this just busted my heart open-