The Richards Bend Journals FORWARD by Rodney Keith Zimmerman Many moons ago, there was a piece of land in Pulaski County southeast of Cherry Grove Hollow and southwest of Wind Cave Hollow that gave foundation to a small one room cabin. This cabin was built on the side of a bluff overlooking Pitman Creek just downstream from a pleasant bend in the waterway. This plot of land became known as Richard’s Bend. My dear friend, Jonathon Thompson, was drawn to this place. Was it the bloodline of the Cherokee that was tugging at him like a magnet to steel? Was it the spirit of the man that passed away in the old cabin across from the cave on Strawberry Road? Was it the trees? The water? The wildlife? The plants and rocks? Was it a place to run to…or was it a place to run from? Was it a place of solitude to write many great journals? Was it to be a place to face demons? What made the one year pilgrimage into the woods and into the very soul of JT roll over into another year…and another? I can’t answer those questions definitively. I have a pretty good idea but one thing I have learned over the decades…second guessing the man that I have called George since we were 12 years old is an exercise in futility. Jonathon mastered anything he attempted. Karate, spelunking, mapping caves, taxidermy, hunting, fishing, repelling, canoeing, hiking, tracking…and these are only the things from his teen years! Jonathon taught me how to ride a horse, how to jump from the top loft of a barn into 4 or 5 broken up bales of hay. He taught be how to be stealthy in the woods and how to not give up. Jonathon is a friend’s friend…a man’s man. Anything that felt overwhelming to me…Jonathon would get that pensive look on his face and then explain the options he saw. He would always say, “Gee George…I see this as a great opportunity!” Flash-forward 30 some odd years to the cabin nestled on the side of a hill…completely hidden from view from any vantage point. I probably visited more than I should have since the reason for the cabin was for solitude and fewer distractions. Every time I dropped in on George/Jonathon/JT…it was like the greatest therapy session/party/vacation all rolled up into one event. My visits formed a pattern of sorts. The welcome…”George!”…”George!” smiles and hugs. Always a light topic for starters...then some memory lane conversations…then a hike up to the spring or down to the creek for a wildlife lesson. Whether he knew it or not, George was a teacher…a conveyor of knowledge. His excitement and love of nature was contagious. I always felt closer to God and more at home in the woods anyway. I think that was a deep unspoken connection we shared. It was a given. It was understood. After a little sippin’ and dippin’… we may pick up the guitars and sing some old Ozark Mountain Daredevils songs or I may share a song I wrote about Richard’s Bend. If we didn’t pick some tunes…we would target shoot. George would stick a soda cap on the side of a tree a few yards away and say…”Hit it, George!” Pop….Pop…Pop! The gun’s reports echoed down the hill. The smell of gunpowder scented the air…and it was wonderful. As the daylight started slipping away…JT would build a nice big cedar wood fire. We gathered a couple old chairs around the crackling flame and began the tradition of solving the world’s problems…because we sure as hell couldn’t seem to repair ours. The topics ranged from the silliest of memories…to the deepest secrets anyone could share. The more we talked and shared…the more I realized just how lucky I was to have such a dear friend. Just how blessed I was to have someone like George that listened. That did not judge. That saw the light at the end of many an emotional tunnel. Jonathon built that cabin as his healing place. What it became was Jonathon’s place of healing…for me. I was one of many friends JT hosted at his home in the woods. I’m sure everyone that spent time at Richard’s Bend came away with something dear to them. Something timeless and most special. I have driven by the old place a few times since George moved on…and it became apparent that Richard’s Bend no longer exists. Jonathon Thompson was Richard’s Bend. A cabin without a host is simply a wooden ghost.
Posted on: Wed, 30 Jul 2014 10:51:19 +0000
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