This past week I was in Little Rock, AR for a speaking engagement. It was an interesting trip to Little Rock because I had never driven through this part of America. I started out in Hattiesburg, MS headed for Jackson and then drove across the Mississippi River on Interstate 20 crossing into Louisiana. I’ve driven this road numerous times but I had never veered off of Interstate 20 except to stop for an occasional tank of gas. After about fourteen miles into Louisiana I took HWY 65 north into the heart of America where WIFI and coffee shops are replaced with trucks, tractors and endless miles of farm land. For those not familiar with this part of the country here is a map and the highlighted route I took.
As you might decipher from the map above the light green area is farm land fueled by the Mississippi River. As I drove through the upper portion of Louisiana making my way into the Southern part of Arkansas my only line of communication back to the civilized world was my satellite radio. News shows were constantly debating the stimulus package. “Will it pass on time?” one newscaster asked. “We break down all the pork barrel spending in the stimulus bill next, stay tuned…” another channel exclaimed.
My attention from the radio was diverted for a few miles as I noticed what appeared to be a never ending amount of steel and iron lined next to the highway. The cars were of similar shape and the same color with one occasionally painted with some graffiti on it.
A train track ran parallel to the highway and rails cars were sitting still on the highway as far as the eye could see. Mile after mile I observed the train cars until I lost count of the miles. Is this train 10 miles or 20 miles long, I can’t remember.
What were they for I thought to myself. All of this grain and cotton has to go somewhere and what better way to transport it than rail. But during the month of February they sat still, idle on the track waiting to be filled and then dispersed throughout the US when the crops came in.
The fields of farm land were endless, one after another. Tractors of all shapes and sizes were preparing the land for the up and coming growing season. Crop dusters could be seen in the distance. Over the top of trees one minute, and then gone the next.
As I drove through this part of America there was constant discussion on the radio about the economy. I couldn’t help but look around and see the impact of the situation. This is it. I’m right in the middle of the heartland of America. This is the place where the rubber meets the road. This is the place where families get up at the crack of dawn and put in a hard day’s work to make a dollar.
I arrived in Little Rock later that afternoon and I felt more in my element. The sad reality of the road had already started to fade. It was business as usual. Parking garage here, plug the laptop in there, get the WIFI from here, check email there, charge cell phone over here. I was surrounded by big buildings, large hotels and businessmen who wore suits to work instead of overalls. There just seemed to be more going on, more happening, and more hustle and bustle.
The next day I headed back home through the heartland of America. I was looking forward to the drive to be honest. I was looking forward to getting back in touch with America. I liked being reminded that things are different, I liked being able to see people, good people, trying to make a visible living.
After a few hours of driving I saw this really big sign ahead in the distance. At first glance it looked like the word depression was written on it but I thought it was something else. As I got closer the sign came into focus. I had just seen a sign welcoming me to Grady, AR, population – small, only a few hundred residents. When I saw the sign for Grady I took the cruise control off to pass through the town but honestly I could have left it set to 75mph.
The sign was now in full view, “Pre Depression Price Sale” the sign read. As I read it, I turned back to get a second glance as I slowed my truck down. Did I just read that? Looking at the building it was in front of it wouldn’t take a rocket scientist to understand this little town was hurting.
My first thought was, how do I explain this to people. How do I capture this moment? At first I was speechless. My mind was full of stimulus packages, politicians that lack integrity, down turn economy, pork barrel spending, some mouse in California that was getting millions of dollars, housing crisis and more. Yet here was proof. Here was proof that America is hurting, proof the heartland is calling out for help.
I had to take a picture so I wouldn’t later forget. I wanted this digital reminder. I brought my 5,000lb truck down to a manageable turning speed and whipped around right in the middle of the road. A few moments later I pulled up next to the sign in the gas station parking lot. After a quick ching-ching of the cell phone camera I turned around and headed back down the highway. Every now and then I’d glance over at the cell phone and stare at the picture. Then another mile, another field, another tractor, another small town would go by and then another quick glance at the photo. Each of them reminding me that yes, America is hurting right now.
“The bill has passed in the house!” came over the radio. The newscaster said this as if I should be excited. I couldn’t help but look around and know that very little if anything in the stimulus package was going to make a difference in this area. Lower taxes and good weather go a long way in this part of America, let’s just hope the stimulus bill has $100,000,000.00 for a rain making machine in it.
