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During my sophomore year of college, I got a call from Trey Reely, a board member of the Arkansas Small Band Association. He asked if I would write a piece for the 2026 Arkansas All-Star Honor Band. The only requirement was that the piece had to be related to Arkansas. It needed to capture something unique to the state so that the piece would truly be original.
So I asked myself, What is Arkansas known for? Naturally, I turned to Google. The first result was Walmart. While a tribute to rollback deals had potential, it did not feel right. I considered writing about the solar eclipse or other Arkansas landmarks, but nothing stuck. Then I remembered an experience that did.
As a freshman in college, I got my first car. Not long after, I had to fill in for a trombone player who had just dropped out of the Arkansas Youth Symphony Orchestra. That meant driving to Little Rock during rush hour. The construction never ended. Lanes were more of a suggestion than a rule. The speed limit obviously meant “add 20,” and my GPS lost faith in me entirely. I missed turn after turn, rerouting so many times that at one point, I almost threw in the towel. What should have been a quick trip turned into an hour-and-a-half masterclass in anger management.
I realized this was something almost every Arkansan could relate to. It felt like the perfect way to capture a shared experience, something we all relate to: chaotic, unpredictable, and undeniably Arkansas.
Buckle up
During my sophomore year of college, I got a call from Trey Reely, a board member of the Arkansas Small Band Association. He asked if I would write a piece for the 2026 Arkansas All-Star Honor Band. The only requirement was that the piece had to be related to Arkansas. It needed to capture something unique to the state so that the piece would truly be original.
So I asked myself, What is Arkansas known for? Naturally, I turned to Google. The first result was Walmart. While a tribute to rollback deals had potential, it did not feel right. I considered writing about the solar eclipse or other Arkansas landmarks, but nothing stuck. Then I remembered an experience that did.
As a freshman in college, I got my first car. Not long after, I had to fill in for a trombone player who had just dropped out of the Arkansas Youth Symphony Orchestra. That meant driving to Little Rock during rush hour. The construction never ended. Lanes were more of a suggestion than a rule. The speed limit obviously meant “add 20,” and my GPS lost faith in me entirely. I missed turn after turn, rerouting so many times that at one point, I almost threw in the towel. What should have been a quick trip turned into an hour-and-a-half masterclass in anger management.
I realized this was something almost every Arkansan could relate to. It felt like the perfect way to capture a shared experience, something we all relate to: chaotic, unpredictable, and undeniably Arkansas.
Buckle up