Outliving your hairstyle seems to happen to a lot of folks. Ducktail cuts, shellacked pompadours, bouffant hairdos that could hide an aircraft carrier, and especially mullets, should be shelved and forbidden. Punishment for wearing your hair in any of these forms should be home confinement for 90 days with nothing to watch but reruns of Dr. Phil.

The 60s and 70s in the South served as fashion laboratories. In Ashdown, Arkansas, where I was raised, one of the most common sights ...

There was always one room in every Southern home that was no man’s land – the parlor. Some called it the sitting room, while others called it the drawing room. It contained the nicest furniture, fresh flowers in the window. And it was the most boring room in the house.

I don’t know why it was called either. We weren’t allowed to sit in it, and drawing was definitely out of the question. If we’d gone near the room with crayons, ...

I grew up in the far southwest corner of Arkansas. Nature drove the speed of life, and the towns breathed at an unhurried pace. Even now when I return there, the clock seems to slow and things just don’t move as fast.

The countryside in between each community was stitched together by gravel roads and pasture land. You could drive for miles without seeing anyone, but when you did, they weren’t a stranger.

For all who grew up in a similar setting, ...