LEARNING REGIONAL BIAS FROM MR. HENSHAW

Otis "Arkie" Henshaw brought country ways to the city, turning his large back yard in North Little Rock into a family size garden.

Despite Mrs. Henshaw's passing, Otis still raised a "right smart" amount of sweet peas, okra, yellow squash, turnip and collard greens,"t'maters" and watermelons, chopping weeds between the rows with  an old hoe that looked like it'd survived the Civil War.  

Otis gave most of the produce away to anyone who would come get it, mostly to young black mothers in what had become a mixed neighborhood of old white homeowners and black renters.  

Protected from sun and rain in Mr. Henshaw's carport was a bright red '62 Mercury Comet, called a "race car" by its owner.  Otis had his mechanic swap out the 144 cubic inch straight 6 "Falcon" engine for a 390 V-8 Ford "police" motor.

Smiling at his own car, Otis explained that the paint job cost him two grand.

"It took three coats of paint, then a clear coat to get the job done," he told me.

"Wanna drive it?" he asked.

"It will knock yer socks off!"

Without revealing my reluctance, I got behind the wheel, sitting on clear plastic seat covers Otis had mail-ordered to protect his upholstery.  Over the rear view mirror dangled a pine scented car deodorizer.  

"Hit the I-40 freeway!" instructed Otis.  

"Floor this thing, then back off so we don't get Ol' Smokey on our tail!"

The old car did have power when I gave it a full gas pedal, pushing me back into my seat.  It was still accelerating when the speedometer hit 90 and I backed off.

"It'll do 150!" Mr. Henshaw exaggerated.

I threaded the hot rod between the wooden posts of the carport.

"Care for some tea?" Otis asked.

We talked on Henshaw's screened-in porch for a couple hours, washing down homemade beef jerky with sweet tea, while Otis talked mostly about his time working in north Texas. Every story ended with an Arkie outsmarting Texans, solving a problem they couldn't solve or simply having more country smarts.

"Yeah.  Heh, heh, heh.  These Texans were hauling a load of pipe across this field on a big flatbed truck.  The pipe was bouncing all over the place, about to jump off the bed.  They had tied it with more than enough rope, but just didn't know what they were doin'," explained Henshaw.

"I jumped up on the bed of the truck and cut the rope in two or three places, then used Arkansas slip knots to tie it back."

"There you go!" I told 'em.

"You won't have a problem now."

Henshaw looked at me and winked:  "An Arkie will outsmart a Texan every doggone time!"  he reminded me.

From the editor:  Otis Henshaw, was a mentor, one of many.  While I didn't buy the regional or even ethnic bias, bigotry he spit out, I did learn some things from Otis.

Even in his 80's, he was willing to try new things, expose himself to different ideas.  

His work ethic was undeniable, his hospitality without attached strings.