February 2022

In the world of sports, a lowscoring affair that features physical defense and highly intense action is typically referred to as a “rock fight.” In other words, both teams that competed in the contest walk away a little bit battered and bruised, physically and emotionally, no matter if they were on the losing or winning side of the scoreboard. With that premise in mind, to call the Arkansas Razorbacks 58-48 win over Tennessee from this past Saturday a rock fight might be a bit of an understatement. There was happiness, sure. But no court rushing. No shirt removal. With a victory over then-No. 1 Auburn Tigers already a distant memory, the Hogs at-times-violent victory over the No. 16 team in the country felt more like an inevitability than a shock-the-world moment. To stay with the mineral metaphor – it felt like a huge piece of granite slowly and inexorably sliding down a hill, bulldozing over anything and everything in its path. While it may not have qualified as a ripping-off-the shirt win, Eric Musselman was understandably proud of his team after the effort, even ugly as it was at times.

My family has always worked elections and was a force in Arkansas and Baxter County politics. I grew up under a table at the election poll. I fondly remember the days of finding the names in the big book and asking them to sign on the line. There was always a sense of homecoming in the room. Families were updated, weather was discussed, recipes were shared and then there was always a time of remembering those who had died since the last election. Of course, everyone had their own beliefs but there was feeling of pride to fulfill your civic duty. People were respectful. I remember when I was old enough to vote, I proudly registered. My first time to vote my Granny Rosie took me and took pictures. She beamed with pride. We were taught to be educated on the issues, always vote for a school millage (because education is key and our buildings, technology and teacher pay are not near adequate), and be respectful of all parties.

This week’s article was supposed to be about Joseph F. Hufstedler, Jr., whose daughters, Birdie and Ella, gave the community of Birdell its name. But the genealogical trail was too interesting to me to jump right in with Joseph, Jr. without setting the stage to his past. In fact, future articles may go back to the time of my ancestors who immigrated from Germany on the ship “Harle “, arriving in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania in 1736.