The Barefoot Boy From Polk County, Arkansas
photos & story by Megan Jae Riggs
”I always said I'd never live in a
Stacks of Cheez-It boxes fill his living room, along with a book shelf filled with Western movies starring Clint Eastwood and books like Organic Gardening, and Back to Basics, a Reader’s Digest How-To on everything from hair dyeing to bread making.
“Junk,” he says, “They call it junk, but it’s not junk to me,” referring to the piles of papers, empty boxes and random odds and ends filling his living room.
Edwards’ small frame sinks into the big brown-checkered sofa positioned directly in front of his television and next to his table stacked with papers. He nervously twiddles his fingers and begins to tell a story. His face lights up as he recalls a time the doctor instructed him to bring all the medications he was on to his appointment and when the doctor asked to see his prescriptions he pulled out a box of Cheez-Its and with a huge smile told the doctor he was on a great diet.
The smile lines surrounding his mouth and eyes quickly fade as he begins to recall his upbringing in Polk County, Arkansas, by his grandmother and grandfather. Edwards’ father was killed during the Prohibition by the sheriff due to a misunderstanding. His mother left to find work when he was six but never returned. He recalls staying up until two in the morning to hunt with his older brother Toy Edwards and barely making passing grades because of it. Edwards says he was raised in a “revengeful” and “wild” family, with nonreligious parents who taught him how to fend for himself in times of need.
Growing up without any religious sentiments didn’t stop Louie from becoming “saved” in 1946 with he was in Japan serving in the U.S. Air Force. Edwards grew up in a family of drinkers but only occasionally drank, but rolled his own tobacco cigarettes; he smoked for forty-three years before quitting. It wasn’t until he met his late wife Dorothy that he decided to become active in the church and lives, what he calls a “Christian life.”
“She was my true inspiration,” says Louie in regards to his late wife who died of a heart attack in 1992, “and we never spent a night apart on account of an argument.” The two were married for forty-six and half years and met when they were teenagers at a local gas station in Arkansas.
As a member of the Plains Alliance Church, Edwards continues to live a “Christian life,” and once a week meets with a men’s Bible study group called, “The Swiggin’ Jig Club.” Members Bill Matthews, Paul Posey, Phil Lewis and Dan Heisler met Louie when they drilled the well for his trailer in 1992. Dorothy Edwards noticed the men holding hands in prayer before beginning to drill and told Louie they were all right with her. The men became friends quickly and started hunting, fishing and studying the Bible soon after. The name ‘Swiggin’ Jig’ comes from the act of holding a fishing pole and waiting for fish to come.
The members speak highly of Edwards and regard him as a friend and father figure. “He actually lives the Bible,” says Heisler, in regards to Edwards’ faith, “Not many people can say that.” The ages of the men in the group range from mid 40s to 60s but all find things in common with each other and eighty-three year old Edwards.
“Amen, Amen,” sings the members as they opn their meeting in a circle of prayer. The men hold hands in prayer and song as part of their weekly meeting to glorify God. After a home-cooked meal and a Bible reading, the men laugh and joke about past fishing and hunting trips. While they quietly mock Louie for his never ending stories, they begin to tell of a time of the missing Rainbow trout where Louie supposedly accused Posey of stealing his fish. As Louie glanced over to see a fox trot around the ice hut, he dropped his glasses into the hole, realizing a fox had stolen his six-pound fish caught earlier. “ If you catch a Rainbow with glasses on, he’s mine,” laughs Edwards.
A blue ballpoint pen sticks out of Edwards’ red-checkered flannel shirt pocket. A whole can of used pens sits on the table next to him, part of his collection of “junk,” he says. He picks them up in parking lots because they might come in handy, he says, as he goes through two or three to find one that still works.
His bottle cap glasses hang on his face as he peers through them to read out of Organic Gardening, pointing out sections where he learned about good bugs versus bad bugs. It’s apparent; he has a green thumb but still uses references when gardening. His roots of gardening stem from his time in Arkansas and he brought that skill to the Montana climate.
Every year Louie travels back to Arkansas to visit his brother, who is in a resting home. He makes the 2,000-mile drive in three days by himself. While Edwards considers several places home, it wasn’t until his daughter moved to Montana that he and his wife soon followed, after living in Alaska for thirty-six years. While he often pokes fun at Arkansas, he says he thoroughly enjoys visiting once a year and spends his time hunting and fishing, memories he associates with growing up there.
Two one-gallon buckets, a duffle bag, a black suitcase and an extension cord crowd Edwards’ living room. As he packs his things for the trip, he tells of his plans for fishing and hunting. He proudly displays his gun, affirming it is unloaded and grinning from ear to ear about how he received ownership of this gun after someone abandoned it. Edwards’ white Ford Taurus’ trunk is packed with suitcases, fishing and hunting gear and other travel necessities. He says he feels lucky to still be able to travel this far and to be alive in general, “ There’s people that have died and haven’t lived a quarter of the life I’ve lived,” says Edwards, “ but that’s my life, the stories just go on and on and on.”
A project by the University of Montana School of Journalism