I recently spent the end of my summer vacationing in Arkansas.  You heard me right.

Convincing my husband to go along with this was a simple matter of playing the family obligation card—we were participating in a joint vacation with my father from California and visiting his middle sister, possibly my father’s last trip home—and the issue was settled.  My husband is nothing if not a Man of Family Values.  That’s not to say he fits the political profile of those touting Family Values as their reason for spouting often ridiculous rhetoric.  Absolutely not.  Which is why this trip was anticipated with some anxiety on his part, being born on foreign soil, disturbed with the antics of the Christian right, and generally unsure if visiting “the South” was beneficial for sane Northerners like ourselves.

Now, the family aspect made the trip worthwhile in itself.  My dad grew up in Fort Smith, his father one of nine.  Most of the family…