Arkansas and I have a problem: namely, that I don't know where it is. I'm actually quite good with geography, and in 4th grade when we had to label all the states on the map, I obviously knew where it really is, but at some point it moved in my mind. Now it's located somewhere in the void between South Carolina and Georgia. (What? There's no void there, you say? Just a bit of evidence that you're living in a parallel universe. Or maybe I am. It's hard to keep straight.)
For many years I was quite happy with my vision of Arkansas on the warm southern waters of the Atlantic. I'll admit I was always kind of confused when newspeople would talk about the Clintons and how far they had travelled from Little Rock to the White House. "Yeah, customs probably are quite different," I thought to myself, "but I wish they'd quit saying how far away it is. It's probably only a few hundred miles."
The spell was broken several years ago when I had the prospect of a job interview in Little Rock, and I decided to drag out the atlas and see where exactly I might be going. Under Missouri? Really? I still don't believe it. It's got to be the parallel universe thing instead.
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