Soul of city, state

Editor’s note: Beginning today, columnist Steve Straessle will write a short column on the culture, politics and history of the city of Little Rock which will appear every other Monday. His column “The Strenuous Life” will continue to appear every other Saturday.

The news reported that a 7-yearold girl had been shot and killed while on the way to the zoo. It was a Saturday morning. The little girl was in a car, no doubt excited to see the animals. The pure innocence of that excitement felt familiar, though the devastation of the moment did not.

I looked at my own 7-year-old little girl eating her bowl of cereal with one hand while drawing pictures with the other. A droplet of milk appeared on her chin and I wiped it in that backhanded, absent-minded way parents everywhere do. I tried to imagine the grief of the slain girl’s family. Impossible, I thought.

Oh, Little Rock. We have so much going for us. We’re the seat of government in the state, we have top corporations like Dillard’s and Stephens Inc. headquartered here. Heifer International and the Clinton Presidential Library command a corner downtown. We have the River Trail, bike lanes, and a vibrant, diverse community. We continue to do the heavy lifting necessary to make education a priority.

But the soul of a Southern city is complex. That’s especially true for one so fickle in its history of progressive ideals matched by conservative steadfastness. It’s easy to place blame in the moment, to point fingers at characters and specific locales for any sort of blight. But the audacity necessary to realize what a Southern town really is dwells far beyond—and behind—the present.

What historical forces came to bear when those gunshots rang out? What future was destroyed?

I remember reading Richard Allin’s “Our Town” column when I was a kid and enjoying the simple beauties that made up Little Rock. Mr. Allin seemed to place a finger on the pulse of the city easily because he understood that despite all the growth happening in the state’s corners, Little Rock remains the soul of Arkansas.

I am no Richard Allin. I visited his grave once on the Sewanee campus not long ago and thanked him for his great stream of words that highlighted the good and damned the bad of the city (even if the damning part felt uplifting). It’s time that Little Rock’s culture comes under scrutiny once more as it’s apparent we’re locked in a pivotal moment in the city’s 300-year history. The way forward always has to do with even its dimmest corners being filled with light.

This column will explore the cultural and social aspects of Arkansas’ capital city as well as the unique opportunities living alongside challenges. I’ll try not to embarrass Mr. Allin by filling this space, but I assure you this town I’ve called home my entire life is worth the effort.

The 7-year-old girl who was gunned down has a name—one that echoes louder than any firework, any symphony, every time her parents hear it. Her name is Chloe Alexander. She died on the way to the zoo. We are better than this.

Oh, Little Rock.