Picking Up Litter, Spreading Kindness
"The people here love their hometown and ensure that any big changes will actually make things better."
As you approach this little town of Charleston, Arkansas, you'll see wide open farm fields and modest homes before the highway becomes Main Street. Keep a good eye out and there's a chance you'll also see a 50-something fellow wearing a high-visibility vest with a reacher-grabber tool in one hand and a trash bag in the other, collecting litter off the streets.
His name is Parker and he's not a city employee. He keeps Charleston clean because he wants to, because he loves the place, because it makes him feel good to serve his neighbors.
"Parker is a fantastic human being," says real estate agent and longtime resident Lacey Flanagan. The majority of people here know him and love him for his efforts to clean up the town. He started doing this work on impulse one day last August while walking with his daughter Gabrielle. He noticed a bit of trash lying around, so they filled a plastic bag with wrappers and cans and other debris. It made him feel good, so he went out the next day and did the same thing and pretty soon it became a routine.
Now he logs about two hours every day, seven days a week, a year in having dodged snakes, fire ants, traffic, and wasps. He has collected around 900 bags of fresh trash from all over, schools, parks, sports fields, streams, creeks.
People honk and wave. Some stop to thank him. Some give him hugs. "It's never a job," he says. "I enjoy it tremendously."
Feeling useful has been a lifelong struggle for him who has several mental health disorders. "My life is incredibly difficult," he says, "Just to stay alive is a daily effort. I have a very difficult time working in front of people so I serve my family and community in this way."
Small Town, Big Fight
It began in late 2024 when the state of Arkansas abruptly announced that it had purchased 850 acres just outside Charleston to build a 3,000-bed prison. Most people in Charleston were furious. There aren't even 3,000 people living in this city, and this plan would massively strain resources and change the city forever. Worse, nobody even bothered to consult them.
A grassroots coalition of farmers, blue collar workers, digital nomads, educators, and members of the Chickamauga Nation called Gravel & Grit sprang up. They quickly educated themselves about the details of the proposed project and learned that although the governor's office had purchased the land, construction funding still depended on the legislature.
Through intensive lobbying, they convinced lawmakers that the site's shortcomings would cause enormous overruns. The soil was too rocky, the water table was too low, the roads insufficient, the labor supply inadequate. The project was shelved in April.
"It really was neat to see it all comes together," says Flanagan, who is also a mother with the Chickamauga Nation.
The tiny city had prevailed once again. David against a mighty Goliath, all thanks to that pervasive community spirit that shows up even in small ways.
Do you have good news to share? Send it to goodnews@wdiy.org.
