“Vada” From Elder Mountain Press

The life story, in her own words, of pioneer Arkansas legislator Vada Webb Sheid, the first woman to be elected to statewide office on her own, without following her husband into office, Vada started her career at age 19, when she was appointed Izard County welfare director. She tells of her frustration with suppliers of aid, who, when asked to send food and clothing relief, sent dress clothing and grapefruit, neither of which the country folk had any use for. "They didn't know what to do with them. Even the livestock wouldn't eat them." She tried her hand at County treasurer, then won a seat in the Arkansas House and later moved to the Senate. She is responsible for the funding for Mammoth Spring State Park, the bridges across Norfork Lake, North Arkansas Community College in Harrison and Arkansas State University at Mountain Home. She has also overseen the paving of nearly every state highway in north central Arkansas. She spent 22 years in office, then came back out of retirement to get funding for ASU-Mountain Home. "Every woman who seeks public office should read this book," said Skip Rutherford, director of the Clinton School for Public Service, University of Arkansas at Little Rock.

click here to read what Marideth has to say about writing Vada and West Plains As I Knew It.

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Written By Marideth

These two works [“Vada” and “West Plains As I Knew It”] were about very different people and required two very different approaches, but the assignments were virtually the same.I was to write the life story of each individual, using all the materials at my disposal, and end with a product that told the story in the individual’s virtual “own words.” In other words, I’d tell the story in the first person, for the most part, and, as near as I could manage it, in their own voice.

In Bob Neathery’s case, I had the advantage of a still very vital and present “Papa Bob,” who told me his numerous stories in a series of audiotapes that together added up to 19 hours of tape. The problem: Bob rambled, and being a broadcaster he had a fear of dead air, so when he finished a story, he’d just keep talking until he thought of another one. But I sorted through it all, gave it a framework, and had the privilege of hearing the lifestory of a boy and his town, straight from the horse’s mouth.

As for Vada, well, she was a force of nature. When I first met her, she was still the fiery, vivacious woman who had stormed her way through 22 years in Arkansas state government, vigorously representing the interests of “her people.” U.S. Senator David Pryor said “We soon learned that when Vada came asking for something, you might as well get it for her, because she’d be back every day until you did.” But by the time we started the book, I could see she was fading fast. Another journalist had prepared a biography of her days in office, but it was pure journalism – all facts and no Vada. So I tried sitting with her and that book, pointing to a page where a story began, and saying, “Do you remember when that happened? What was going on that day?” And she would respond with little anecdotes about her mood, her thoughts at the time, giving me context as well as personality. As time went on, she became more forgetful until, when it came time to select the photos to go with the text, she no longer remembered many of the faces in the pictures. One set of photos she always knew, though – those of her grandchildren, her beloved Adam and Stacie, and her old pal and sometimes nemesis, then Arkansas Governor William Jefferson Clinton. Once, when telling a story where he got the best of her, she called him “Billy.” What a gift, to have known this great lady, and helped other people become acquainted with her great spirit.

Both books took several years to complete  — Neathery’s because he decided to do a rewrite with a lot more information after the original book was finished. Vada’s because I had heart surgery. Her book was published in 2008 and is available through the Sheid Furniture web site. I’ve been talking to Stacie about how to set up a link to buying just the book, since I don’t really feel up to selling furniture. ;-

About the book, Vada
About the book, West Plains As I Knew It

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An Aerial View

A view of the hangout area at the Convention Center, with beer, coffee and barbecue at one end, festival gear and a tech-head bookstore at the other, and wireless everywhere in between.

A constant sream of festival-goers kept the four-story escalator complex in the Austin Convention Center working hard all day, and sometimes late into the evening at the SXSW Film, Media and Music Festival. I'm headed downstairs, camera in hand, from a visit to the Filmmakers' Lounge, where free coffee, computers and valuable info is ready. About day 3, I finally got around to studying the free festival map provided by these folks, and spent a lot less time afterward lost and confused. Instead, like most of these folks, you may notice, I was studying the pocket film guide, deciding what to see next.

Posted in SXSW 2010 | 2 Comments

Arkansas Fiddlers’ Convention

On March 26-27 I’ll be at the  Arkansas Fiddlers’ Convention in Harrison, Ark., meeting with WB Producer and old-time-music buff Jonathan Scheuer to talk movies, music and upcoming Missouri screenings of their favorite film. The convention runs March 19-22 at North Arkansas Community College.

See you fiddlers there.


My schedule

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West Plains As I Knew It, by Robert Neathery

When Bob Neathery stepped off the train from St. Louis and got into a horsedrawn cab that would take them up the muddy street to the hotel, he said, his mother remarked that she felt like she had come to the end of the earth. They were in West Plains. It was 1913. Bob was five years old. He remembered that, and everything else that passed before his eyes in his 90-some years of life. And he told it to me in a series of taped recordings over a period of two years. "I wish I had someone to tell my story," he said to me one night as we walked out of a public event. So I did. Neathery was responsible for bringing the first radio station to West Plains, along with cable television, the Horsetrader, and the skateboard park.

Get a copy of West Plains as I Knew It
Vada, also from Elder Mountain Press and penned by Marideth Sisco.
Marideth tells about writing these two works.

Posted in Elder Mountain Press, Published Writing | 3 Comments

Just Back from Austin

Just back from Austin, where SXSW (South-By-Southwest Music and Film Festival) is still going strong, with the trade show winding down along with film festival screenings, and the music just now getting rolling. My last day wandering about coincided with the music opening and St. Patrick’s day festivities, so Sixth Street, Austin’s party central year round, was blocked off and packed with tipsy celebrants debating the merits of various watering holes and giving bad culinary advice. Maybe it wasn’t that way all over, but when I went out in search of lunch before a screening, I was steered to Riley’s, the reputed home of “Best Fish and Chips in Austin.” It was partly my fault, I suppose, for failing to remember that Texans have a habit of confusing Best with Biggest. The fish filets were the size of burrito supremes, but sadly short on flavor. Happily, the pint of Bass Ale served up with them cured a lot of ills, so it ended up being a satisfying meal, if not the Best. The best was Chuy’s, where I had the special, a stack of blue corn tortillas with chicken and spices in between, sour cream on the side and Chuy’s best-on-the-planet green sauce over all. There’s no lack of great Tex-Mex to be had in Austin, and I had nowhere near enough, but as this isn’t a food blog (it isn’t?) I’d best move on. Austin is a beautiful and friendly city, with great parks, a Huge convention center that festivalgoers managed to pack full most days and some nights. Photos to follow.


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Excerpts From Costa Rica Journals; Chapter 18:

My guide takes me to one of the little houses and onto the porch, where I examine gourd rattles and water jars, and a balsa wood drum whose head is an iguana skin. I select several and hope I have enough cash. The lot costs me $28, about a third what I was expecting to pay.

A woman and her son come out and we talk awhile, with my guide interpreting, about medicinal herbs and the shamans who were the indigenous people’s only healers before western medicine arrived. She tells me she doesn’t understand how these modern doctors can expect to heal disease if they don’t understand either the spirit of the disease or the spirit of the person they are treating.

Suddenly she steps up to me, her eyes full of alarm, and her hand brushes my cheek.

“No mosquito,” she hisses softly, looking me square in the eye. “No mosquito.”

I am not frightened by the gesture until I realize that she is. As kindly as it was meant, it is a chilling reminder. When the U.S. State Department and Centers for Disease Control warnings were urging immunization in the tropics against the dreadful diseases that lie waiting for the unwary in the dark humidity of the jungle, this is what they were talking about. This place, right here. Lulled by the fascination for extending my reach and expanding my knowledge, I have come, I realize, to my moment of greatest danger.

I thank her, take her picture with her son and we take our leave. I try, as we walk back down the trail toward the car, not to think about clouds of little malaria-filled mosquitoes lurking in the shadows. I try not to run.

As pleased as I am at this moment by how far I have come on this journey, I have never felt quite so far away from home.

Costa Rica

Excerpts from Costa Rica Journals: Chapter 2Chapter 7Chapter 13Chapter 17

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