When you say it out loud – because it’s finally an upcoming event, no longer an idea – it sounds like someone else is speaking.
“We’re moving to Arkansas.”
I’ve been talking about the move in articles and videos for the last 6 years. Something that was set in motion by my parents’ retirement plans, that intensified during the height of Covid hysteria in Illinois, when the world came to a screeching halt and everyone decided to show who they really were. What they really believed. How they’d slit your throat for daring to question “the rules,” or thinking outside the box. Remote learning showed us what many of the schools were teaching. What they were tolerating – no – promoting. Pushing.
I knew then, without question, it was time for us to go. To see what else was out there. To see how people behaved outside the area I’d lived my entire life. With my parents (our main support system) heading south, it would have made sense even if everything I just mentioned above never happened.
But it did happen.
We started to look.
First, a simple trip down to see the area. Mountain Home and Bull Shoals. We looked at my parents’ property, checked out the dam, the local restaurants and stores, the schools, the churches, and we started to take stock of the people.
Yes sir.
Yes ma’am.
Have a blessed day.
Where y’all from?
Big warm smiles and friendly folk. Rich folk? Maybe some. Poor folk? Maybe some. Good folk? Sure seemed that way.
Then I took a solo trip down the following November for a guided fishing trip.
In November.
It was a sunny 60° both days. Just beautiful. I fished with Del Colvin and caught smallmouth, largemouth, spots, walleye, crappie… in November.
Back home, I knew everything was shut down, and as I discussed this all with my wife on the phone, the question went from “should we?” to “why aren’t we?”
The Bittersweet Truth
That was 6 years ago. We’ve been looking at property for a long time.
And to be honest, I did drag my feet quite a bit.
We have family in Illinois, after all. A handful of really good friends. I understand Midwest fishing and enjoy it. I’ve done prison ministry for many years with good brothers that I didn’t want to leave behind. The kids were all in multiple sports. Life wasn’t all bad. In fact, it was quite full.
Then there was the practical reality: the popularity of Arkansas property (and the cost) jumped quite a bit right around the time we started to look seriously. I couldn’t find a nice house with a bit of dirt and an outbuilding that was close enough to the schools and the grocery store so that mama didn’t have to drive 3 hours a day… it felt like an impossible combination. So I did look…
Half-heartedly.
Then every October, Old Man Winter would come around like a crotchety debt collector. His bitter-cold weather would shut down the Illinois bite, and boy, I’d fight him. I’d fight him with everything I had. I’d force myself to go out into the cold, wet weather that split the skin on every finger and hurt my face. I’d spit and swear and kick and punch and try to force some fish to bite… but they had other plans.
Old Man Winter would laugh, he’d howl, he’d cackle, and eventually, I’d accept defeat. The end result was always the same, and so was the question I’d ask myself: “Why are we not in Arkansas yet??”
The search would resume. I’d be reminded that I didn’t have enough money and that I’d be leaving everyone behind. I would run around in circles until spring came, and I’d get distracted with fishing once again…
Then on November 1st, 2024, my younger brother Vaughn passed away unexpectedly.
My family was devastated. I was devastated.
Vaughn was the best man at my wedding. He was very close with my wife. My kids. He was my best friend, and to be honest, he was one of the main reasons I was dragging my feet. Vaughn and his wife were not moving to Arkansas.
Well now… now, I wasn’t leaving him.
It was time to go.
Finally Finding the Property
I’ve always told my wife, if we hate it – we’ll leave. A house to me is nothing more than a box that protects us from the elements. The memories matter. The people matter. But the box itself?
Just a box.
That said, we’d grown to a family of 7 by this point, and we needed a pretty good-sized box!
By 2025, property values had increased across the board and buying power had been reduced. If this was ever going to happen, it was time to bite the bullet. The year was filled with hectic, last-minute trips that all ended in disappointment.
Those pictures the Realtors took? Yeah. False. They were a far cry from reality. My wife was discouraged. We’d come home, then spend many late nights watching our saved properties go from “active” to “contingent” or “sold” again, and again, and again.
But one November evening we noticed a property that had been sitting for about 9 months…
(Now that I write this all down, I’m not sure why so many of these events have happened in November…)
The price had dropped by over $75,000, meaning it had quietly slipped into our price range.
Barely.
It was close enough to the schools, the fishing, the groceries, supplies, and my parents. There were a few acres and a crusty old outbuilding with potential. The house looked dated, but large enough, and it was clear that the listing wasn’t moving because they were simply asking too much.
So, away we went on another “quick” little 8-hour trip with 5 kids down to Arkansas. Took the tour. Imagined the possibilities. Made an offer. Held our breath.
Before the end of December, we had closed.
Our idea had become an event.
The Next Chapter(s)
We listed our home, and within 1 week we had an offer for the full asking price. If all goes well, that closing will take place in less than a month. Then it’s final. We’re done. We’re gone. We’re migrating.
The kids are excited, but the reality is setting in. It’s not dramatic, but they are starting to realize how far away “away” really is. They’re tough kids, but they’re human.
I feel the weight too.
But it’s time.
Now – God has a sense of humor, and just to add a little spice to the situation, He has decided to bless us with a side-quest: pest control.
When we looked at the Arkansas house, we saw a few scorpions in the basement. One was alive (we fixed that). We saw some skinks. We are aware that copperhead snakes live in the area. There are wolf spiders. Big angry red wasps.
Country living. Good. Fine.
But on one of our trips down to work on the house, we killed a wee spider on the ceiling very late at night.
“Oh look,” I said, “he has a fiddle on his back! Perhaps he fancies himself a musician.”
Not really.
That fiddle was the ONE THING my wife was adamant she did NOT want to see. That freakin’ fiddle meant the spider was a brown recluse… and over the next two days, I caught or killed 28 more inside the house.
Before we left, I laid out an additional 60 glue traps. When I returned 3 weeks later… 46 more recluses had been caught.
This has been unsettling, to say the least. Psychological warfare. I wake up convinced I felt something, jump out of bed, do the hokey pokey, flip lights on and scan the floor. Stomp. Stomp. STOMP.
The bottom line is that I can’t move my wife and 5 kids into this den of death. Necrotic wounds are not an upgrade.
So getting the house livable. Move-in ready. Starting with the spider removal – that’s step one. And I’m quickly running out of time. The pest-removal company agrees that the numbers are high, but they’re optimistic the spiders can be controlled.
So I’m cautiously optimistic, too.
The property itself is really neat. It’s 2.5 semi-wooded acres.
I like saying that.
“The property.”
“The shop.”
The other night I had a fire on the property, next to the shop. (See how cool that sounds?)
It was glorious. Dusk, and so calm, so quiet, with a light breeze straight from heaven. The air was warm but comfortable. The only sounds were the rustling leaves, a crackling fire, and a handful of birds. I was by myself. Just me, my thoughts, and God.
I imagine my pet recluse napped peacefully inside.
It was good.
Yeah, we had to pony up more cash than I wanted. Yeah, the move is bittersweet and we will have to make an effort to stay in touch with people we love. Yeah, we have a pest problem. The house is worn. The shop is rotting, disgusting & unusable. It all needs love.
But it’s all real.
It’s ours.
Our new “box,” the new home base from which all of our upcoming memories will spring forth. And cliché or not, as long as we have each other, we’ll make it work.
The fishing?
Oh… oh there will be fishing. That’s going to be unreal.
We’re only 30 seconds from a Norfork Lake ramp. I’ll start there first, looking for smallmouth, largemouth, spots and striper. This will be explored.
Dad has a slip on Bull Shoals Lake. This will be explored.
I’ve met a few locals that exclusively fish the White River, known for incredible trout fishing. This will be explored.
I’ve popped over by a few of the access points for Crooked Creek. Heard this was some of the best smallmouth water in the state. This will be explored.
That’s 4 world-class locations, multiple species, multiple types of water, all within a reasonable driving distance – and it’s just the tip of the iceberg.
New water. New rules. New memories. A longer season. More of that precious time with the wife & kids. More of that precious time by myself.
But first…
First, I do my duty as a husband and father. I will not wet a line until the house is ready for the crew. Period.
Family first.
It’s a great motivation if you think about it. I’m ready to hold a fishing rod and instead I need to hold a pry bar and a paint brush.
(Or a blowtorch, depending on what I find on those glue traps next week.)
But once the nest is prepped, we can work on the property. Then the shop. Then… then life will just sorta happen like it always does. As it was designed. If I can get good enough to guide, or lucky enough to build a rental property, and eventually a resort, that would be fantastic.
Those are great goals.
But who knows?
All I know is that this is where we’re at right now.
It’s a lot. It’s messy. It’s exciting. It’s stressful. But day by day, we’re getting closer to closing one chapter and opening another.
And so far, the good Lord has made sure every new chapter has been better than the last.
It’s a big move… but it’s going to be good.
See you on the other side.
Tight Lines & Godspeed, Patriots.