By Dr. Curtis Varnell
Arkansas has some of the most deeply-rooted and rich history of superstitions in the world. Whether from our Scotch-Irish history or our isolated communities, we have a variety of believes that transcend the norm. Not content with our lives determined by the breaking of mirrors, walking under a ladder, or seeing a black cat, we add the plausibility of our existence and health and safety to a myriad of rules unheard of elsewhere in the world.
A few years ago, during a science conference in New Orleans, I collected a few of the rock fragments that had fallen from the tomb of Marie Laveau. My friend, Patrick Millard is a man with a pre-vet degree, a biology degree, a Masters of education, and a great deal of Ouachita Mountain superstitions. Discovering I had collected samples from the tomb, he was greatly alarmed, enough to inform me that bad luck was headed my way. Upon returning home, I forgot to retrieve my samples from his car and left them in the side-pocket beside the seat. A few days later, he called furious. “You left those stones in my car and bad luck has descended on me. I have had three flats on that car in the past week and this morning, a bear crawled on my car, scratched up the paint job, and urinated on my hood.” Each year since, he tells that story in teacher professional development sessions and performs a rendition of Bobby Bare’s song, Another Man done Gone. Fully convinced the car was bad luck, he traded for another vehicle.
My grandmother had a host of superstitions; enough to compose a good size book if so inclined. When pregnant with my oldest uncle, she was cleaning squirrel (yes, I have eaten many both friend and in dumplings) and brushed her hair back over her ear with her bloody left hand. She is completely convinced she marked my uncle who was born without a left ear.
One of the stranger superstitions in the River Valley has to do with something called a mad stone. One of the strangest superstitions or beliefs of the River Valley concerns the mad stone. The mad stone is a stony concretion taken from the stomach of an albino deer and was or is believed to have strange curative powers. In a time-period when doctors were few and far between, people relied on faith and strange concoctions. In the case of the mad stone, the stone was pressed upon the area of a snake or spider bite or the bite from a rabid animal. The stone drew out the poison and was placed in warm milk which turned green from the poison. The steps were repeated until the milk no-longer changed color.
People owning the stones maintained them forever and were called upon in times of need. Some of the stories from the Logan County Historical Society include one from 1922 in which Artis Carter was visiting at the home of Buford Redding near Greasy Valley. While there, he was bitten by a rabid dog. His father Otis Carter had heard about a stone owned by Mr. Arch Aydellot of Havana. In a panic and worried for the life of his son, he travelled the twenty-five miles over the mountain to get help. The Aydellot family had three of the stones that had been handed down in the family for generations. The stone was immediately attached to the boy and clung to the opening left by the dog bite. After cleaning, he attempted to attach it again but it failed to attach meaning the poison was gone. The young man survived without any other problem.
On another occasion, a resident of Harkey Valley was bitten by a rabid dog and was not treated for 13 days. Having no other recourse, Dr. Heffington brought the man to Mr. Aydellot who
applied the stone to the afflicted area. The stone clung to the wound for 16 hours. After cleaning, it clung for 12 more house, was cleaned, and failed to reattach, again the man survived.
Of course, the modern educated generation have outgrown those childish beliefs and have things to do. Let’s see, I need to check those persimmon seed to see what kind of winter we are going to have, attach the mirror so it doesn’t fall and break, and throw some salt over my left shoulder so I don’t have bad luck from stepping on the crack in the sidewalk.
