Dewitt, Arkansas

I wonder how many posts in the big wide internet are titled "Dewitt, Arkansas"?

Dewitt is home to some of the most sincere, hospitable,
community-minded people in the world. It is a small farming
community. The family we know there farm 21,000 acres of land, and
the road leading to their home is named after them.

(Well, theoretically they are named after the father's aunt who used
to own a bunch of land further up the road, and it should actually be
named the mother's maiden name instead, or so E tells me.)

Life is so real in Dewitt. We sat down and literally spent two and a
half days sitting in the living room, talking about the Uncle D's wife
who is down with cancer, the terrible accident between the two crop
busters crop dusters and how the survivor is doing in hospital, the damage from the
hurricane last month, what Grandma is doing for a job, how the crops
are this year, who is having a baby, etc. etc etc.

When we are not talking, we are helping ourselves to the most fabulous
Southern cooking in the whole wide world. Absolutely fantastic; and
the way Ms V whips it up, you would think that she could do it blind
folded. Over the two days, we had roast beef, grilled pork, green
beans, sweet corn, rice casserole, sweet potatoes, rolls, two home
baked cakes (strawberry and lemon), sausage, biscuits, eggs, and I
can't even remember what else. It was heaven on earth.

Ms V tells me that they cook for at least 30 people every Sunday.
I've been there on a Sunday about five years ago. They had enough
card tables open that it looked like a den. Heehee.

It is sweet how old people can talk with young people over cards and
iced tea. I think folks where I'm from lose out on a lot of
hard-earned wisdom because of the language problem -- older people
speak dialect, younger people English or Mandarin. Then again, even
we spoke the same language, we may not necessarily listen...

I will miss them. In fact, I will miss every single one of them.