I returned home from Little Rock, Arkansas yesterday. It was a place I knew little about and what I did know made me question if it was the place for a bleeding heart liberal like me. The recent news makers from Arkansas that trickled up to Nova Scotia did not inspire confidence. Presidential candidate Mike Huckabee and the Dugger family are folks so far to the right of my social and political beliefs it would take Einstein's theory of relativity to accurately calculate the distance between us. Throw in extremely liberal gun laws and a religious population and it didn't seem like my kind of town.
On the other hand, it was the birthplace of Bill Clinton and a recent discriminatory religious bill was booted back to the legislators for correction. I pledged to keep an open mind. I also pledged not to talk about politics, religion, and gun control for the duration.
It takes a long time to get to Little Rock from Nova Scotia. Not being a sunshine destination, there are no direct flights from Halifax. Arriving late afternoon by way of Toronto and Chicago, the din of heavy accents that greeted me at the airport reminded me of the first time I landed in St. John's, Newfoundland. It was a homey deja vu.
At the hotel we were greeted by an enthusiastic and smiling young bellman who seemed surprised to have guests from Nova Scotia. Turns out he has a friend living in P.E.I. With a head of bright red hair and freckles, he could have been Anne of Green Gable's little brother. Hot, tired, and unseasonably dressed, the hotel concierge introduced herself and proclaimed "y'all have had a long enough day" and took us to our rooms for check in.
I learned this was the start of the southern hospitality you hear about.
The first morning of the conference, one of our hosts asked us to identify ourselves if we had travelled more than 500 miles, then 1000 miles. This is when I realized I didn't know how far away Arkansas was and I certainly didn't possess the mental faculties at that hour of the morning to then convert any estimate into miles. I am not sure if Andrea caught the dumbstruck expression on my face or, in hindsight, at a district meeting of predominantly southern states, it was glaringly obvious Nova Scotia is the furthest away, but she graciously said something along the lines of "oh the heck with it, it's Nova Scotia."
I still think the print Arkansas gave us would look nicer in my living room than it will in the boardroom.
As the day progressed some things became quickly apparent. The first was a reminder that I was in a room of extremely bright, well-educated people. It's one of the reasons I like these conferences. I'm pretty sure everyone is smarter than me and they definitely know more about what we do than me so I try and act like a sponge and soak up all they have to offer.
The second was that southerners elevate public speaking to an artform.
I work in a regulatory field and the subject matter can be a little dry, politely speaking, but not when these folks were talking about it. Between the cadence of speech and what appears to be an innate and universal storytelling ability, the potentially dull becomes dramatic, rich with funny anecdote and heartfelt sentiment.
Walt Colman was the keynote speaker. I had thought an NFL referee was an odd choice for a regulators conference. It was just one more thing I was off on. I learned if there is anyone who knows what it's like to enforce the rules in the face of opposition, it's an NFL referee. He's still catching grief for calls he made 15 years ago, even by football fans that weren't born when the call was made.
Coleman said, in the course of recounting some of the feedback he's received questioning his intellect, "that I may talk with an accent, but I don't think with one." It brought me back to Newfoundland and another culture unfairly maligned by accents.
I felt better equipped for work and life at the end of the day and, as it had been since I landed, utterly welcome.
The evening dinner came with a trio of musicians that sang songs I still know the words to from childhood. Johnny Cash was from Arkansas. Afterwards we watched a live recording of a public radio show called "Songs of the South". More excellent storytelling.
Also, there was food. As you know, I love to cook and no chance for regional cuisine is going to pass me by. I think I tried every southern dish I could name, including a crawfish boil. The food was so good I had to swap out my pants for looser ones mid Friday evening.
I had a dear friend, and now her dear spouse drive from the next state because no friend was going to be this close without making the effort to see me.
We went to the Bill Clinton Presidential Library. It's a museum of the Clintons' lives and includes replicas of parts of the White House, like the Oval Office. There's also a dinosaur exhibit to spice things up.
I knew going in I really liked the conference delegates, and obviously my friend and by extension, her husband. I also really liked all the other people I met while I was there. I had to explain where Nova Scotia was sometimes, but my first thought when I found out I was going to Arkansas in June was that it would be hot enough to go to the beach. Like food, geography is also regional. Arkansas is landlocked.
I may not have had the most flattering picture of Arkansas before I left. What I found when I got there was a whole lot of kindness, hospitality, curiosity, and above all else, an impeccably mannered and self depreciating wit. These are people who will go out of their way to make sure you not only feel comfortable, but also entertained. They are deeply involved in their communities and their families. As the conference ended, our hosts were on their way to other events.
As for headlines and news makers, on the leg from Chicago to Toronto I had a great chat with an airline steward from Cleveland, Ohio. Among the other things we talked about he asked if we still had that crazy mayor. After I realized he was talking about Rob Ford, because geography is regional, I happily gave him an update on one of Canada's loudest and most unpleasant news makers; and thought touché.
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