Hope has yet again produced a public servant of whom all of Arkansas can be proud. Do our two US Senators know where Hope is?

April 14, 2023, was a perfect spring day in Indianapolis, Indiana. At the Birch Bayh Courthouse, enveloped in marble walls, depression-era murals, and octagonal vestibules, a formal investiture ceremony was held for Judge Doris Pryor —  proud daughter of Hope, Arkansas. 

For over 130 years, white men have dominated the Chicago-based 7th Circuit Court of Appeals. From its first session back in 1891 to early 2023, the court has only seen two Black judges. Judge Doris Pryor is the third and the first Black judge from Indiana to ever serve on the 7th Circuit Court. 

The Hope native was not the only Arkansan in attendance that spring day. The Chief Judge that performed her swearing in was the Honorable Lavenski Smith, also a native of Hope. 

My good friends — the Honorable Jim Gunter, former Associate Justice of the Arkansas Supreme Court, and his wife Judee — were also present at the ceremony. The Gunters made the ten-hour trek through America’s heartland from Hope to Indianapolis to witness Judge Pryor’s historic investiture. 

But it was more than the judicial backdrop that led Jim and Judee Gunter to Indiana that day. In a curious, only-Arkansas kind of way, Judee Gunter taught Doris (Clark) Pryor in her math classes at Hope High School. Doris was an honor student and on occasion baby-sat Judee’s son, Guy. Like it is in small town, Arkansas, The Gunters were friends with Doris’ parents, James and Linda Clark.

It was poetic; the people of our state know how to have one another’s backs. So it was a “Hope Fest” on that 72º day at the Birch Bayh Courthouse in downtown Indianapolis. 

Hope, the small southwestern town in Hempstead County, has a knack for churning out talented, accomplished Arkansans. In recent memory, Hope has been home to one president (Bill Clinton), two governors (Clinton and Mike Huckabee), a Supreme Court Justice (Gunter), and one Presidential Chief of Staff and hugely successful businessman (Mack McLarty). There’s also the world’s top rated stereo speaker manufacturer and Hope native (Paul Klipsch). And of course the first female country and western singer to sell a million single records was Patsy Montana; she grew up in a small community near Hope.

In keeping with the Hope effect, Judge Doris Pryor graduated cum laude from the University of Central Arkansas in 1999 and worked for a year in her hometown before applying to law school. After graduating from the University of Indiana Mauer School of Law, Pryor returned to Arkansas to work as a public defender. Later on, she served two clerkships for federal judges — Leon Holmes and Lavenski Smith — both appointed by Republican presidents, a fact that would serve as a twist of fate in Judge Pryor’s Senate confirmation hearing.

To say Judge Doris Pryor has good legal chops is like saying the summers in South Arkansas are a tad warm. Judge Pryor has an incredible background in the legal community; she served a four year term as the National Security Chief for the U.S. Attorney’s office for the Southern District of Indiana, and she was a federal prosecutor for 12 years. Judge Pryor is licensed to practice law in multiple states and was a U.S. Magistrate Judge for four years. Maybe it’s the Hope effect, but it’s also Doris Pryor’s aptitude, drive, and dedication to her vocation that led to such impressive achievements. 

Her most recent feather in cap is the 7th Circuit Court of Appeals nomination, which came from President Biden last May after a seat on the court opened. Indiana, like Arkansas, is run by Republicans, who hold both the Governor’s office and a supermajority in their state legislature. They also have two Republican US Senators, Todd Young and Mike Braun. 

If the Senators wanted to play politics, they could have blocked Judge Pryor’s nomination by refusing to give her a “blue slip” for it to advance. “Blue-slip” is the consultation between the President and the home-state Senators for judicial nominees. The process is used to ensure that nominees, in this case Judge Pryor, are up to snuff — in other words, mainstream and well qualified. In this case, it’s a bi-partisan approach to vetting nominees, resulting in the best-suited candidate for the position at hand.

But Senators Young and Braun did not do that. In fact, they did quite the opposite. When Senator Young introduced her to the Senate Judiciary Committee in July of last year, he specifically expressed his appreciation of the President’s willingness to consult with him and Senator Braun on Judge Pryor’s nomination. It was a heartening display of respect and cooperation from members of both parties. 

During the confirmation, Senator Young was effusive in his praise of Judge Pryor.  He mentioned that she has experience on all sides of the courtroom, that she understands the difference between the role of an advocate and the role of a judge, and that she has know-how on both the criminal and civil side of the docket. She was unanimously rated qualified by the American Bar Association. 

Doris Pryor, the daughter of Hope, AR, shone bright. Recognized as experienced, agile, and of course qualified, Judge Pryor was confirmed on a 60-31 vote in the Senate last December. That roll call vote made her one of the few federal judges nominated by Biden to be confirmed on a strong bipartisan vote. Senate Republican Leader Mitch McConnell voted to confirm Judge Pryor. So did Senator Lindsay Graham of South Carolina.

Hope had yet again produced a public servant of whom all of Arkansas could be proud. So what happened to Doris Pryor’s home state senators on this vote? Astonishingly, neither Senator Tom Cotton nor Senator John Boozman could bring themselves to vote for this highly qualified achiever from the tiny town of Hope, AR. Had she done something to offend? Decide a case they didn’t like? Affiliated with a group that didn’t meet the smell test? With so much experience and such broad bipartisan support, the move by the Arkansas senators is puzzling. 

When Ross Perot was running for president years ago he appeared on the Larry King show a lot. When discussing some public policy with which he disagreed, Perot would often say, “It’s just sad Larry.” That’s the way I feel about our political leaders. We may never know why the senators from Arkansas made a point of voting “no” on Judge Pryor’s confirmation. A quick internet search reveals no quotes or statements explaining either man’s thinking. 

Judge Doris Pryor is a home state gal with all pluses and absolutely no minuses — even Senators Graham and McConnell see it. Arkansas, including its US Senators, should be more than proud to have Doris Pryor at the helm of the 7th Circuit Court of Appeals. Here in the mid-south, we celebrate the accomplishments of our most talented sons and daughters. 

I wonder if Mr. Cotton or Mr. Boozman plan to show up at the Hope Watermelon Festival this year? It might be a little chilly this August, if you catch my drift.

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I’m not a professional dog trainer, but I do live with dogs. And I put that in italics because I truly mean it. The dogs I live with are not just accessories; most of my day and night are arranged to ensure they are cared for and have what they need. As a former farm kid, the lesson that animals come first because they can’t do for themselves sticks with me. The dogs, in return, care for me, booping me when I’ve been at my desk too long, making sure I get out every day and move around, and making me laugh when I take myself too seriously.

It’s a symbiotic relationship. 

When Chester came to live with us, he was very anxious. He wouldn’t stop circling the house, moving from room to room, in constant motion like a shark. I followed him around until I finally managed to put my hands on his back, and he leaned into me, realizing I only wanted to pet him. These days, I can’t sit down without him there, either snuggling up under my arm on the couch or creating canine origami in my armchair. While it can be a bit much, the level of satisfaction I get from his trust in me more than makes up for any irritation.

Chester’s coping mechanism is to carry a toy in his mouth, pretty much any time he’s anxious. To strangers, his toy habit is precious and they think he’s just showing them his baby. But I know that he’s got a toy in his mouth because it keeps him from putting his mouth on whatever is causing the anxiety. He does love his babies, though, and he’s always excited when they take a trip through the washer and dryer. He waits for me to open a dryer full of them so he can  have a baby party in the hallway. 

Chester does have a threshold — we all do. The threshold I’m talking about is that point where no matter what coping mechanism he uses or how he communicates his anxiety if I don’t listen, he loses it. Once I paid attention and recognized the signs that he was near crossing that threshold, Chester hasn’t lost his marbles. We’ve built trust, Chester and I, and we listen to each other.

I have my own threshold, as well. And, while I have developed some pretty good coping mechanisms, that doesn’t mean I am never near my threshold when it comes to anxiety. I’m just (most days) a pretty high-functioning person with anxiety. Lately, though, due to a number of factors, I find myself teetering on my threshold.

My family is going through a large transition right now, in part because my wife’s employer finally nudged her just enough that it put her over her threshold. That story isn’t mine to tell, but I will say that while our decision to move back to the central part of the state and leave her full-time position as a hospital physician was made quickly, it wasn’t. We’ve been talking about the need for something to change for well over a year now, and it just took a small, seemingly insignificant thing to tip us over the line.  

We’ve been through big shifts before — medical school and residency, for instance. When we moved back to Arkansas, we decided it was time for me to stop traveling so much for work and to shift my attention to writing, which was always the plan. As someone who always took pride in being able to take care of herself, and who always worked, sometimes with a side-hustle, my retirement from higher education was not a smooth transition. I struggled with identity issues — for so long, my work in higher education was the largest part of my identity. Five years later, I am finally comfortable answering the question “what do you do?” without hesitating or first explaining that “I used to be. . .” Now, the answer comes out: I’m a freelance writer and editor. But still, in this transition we’re making, I find myself flailing again in new and awful ways. 

We made the decision that we are not going to buy another house in our transition back to central Arkansas. While the current market situation is one reason, as is our decision for Doc to take some time off to focus on her board certification which means we are budgeting in new ways, the main reason is we don’t know where we’ll wind up. We made the decision to rent, something we never thought we would do again. It didn’t take long for me to hit my threshold. 

I get that we are not the typical renters. We’ve owned two houses together, and Doc has not rented since 1996. I’ve not rented since 2004. We’re in our 50s. We have no kids. We’re financially stable. But, just getting in the application pool was a nightmare. Even though we’re married, we were told repeatedly that both of us had to fill out applications that included a background check and credit check. That’s not a problem, but what is a problem for me — freelance writer, remember — is that they require all applicants to make at least 3.5 times the rent per month in order to even be considered. It doesn’t matter that one spouse makes more than 10 times that amount after taxes and other things are deducted — if the freelance writer only makes X dollars in steady assignments and Y (which varies as it’s royalties on novels that run six weeks behind), that’s a problem.

We literally had a realtor contact us that she needed my “check stubs” for my work, despite having Doc’s for the last quarter. Without our full tax returns, basically, they wouldn’t actually process either of our applications. We withdrew them and got our $100 back. But, the “we need Angelic’s pay stubs” took me over the threshold into a meltdown. 

Thresholds are part of our culture’s marriage nostalgia. The image of the groom carrying the bride over the threshold of their home or church still pops up over and over in movies, for instance, even though few people are aware of the superstition that his doing so prevents “the chance of her stumbling, which would anger a group of ancient household gods.”

My domestic work seems to calm those ancient household gods pretty well. When your spouse works 80+ hours a week and could be called out at any time to go deal with work, you get to do all of the household management. In addition to writing and my own research projects, I literally pay the bills, buy the groceries, plan and cook the meals, deal with the bug guy, and arrange house maintenance on a 104-year-old house. I’m the one here to meet with the electrician when he comes out to wire something. I’m the one who makes sure the dogs get exercise, who buys the cat his expensive prescription food that keeps him alive. When we had a pool, I was the one who made sure we could actually use it.

In the past, I would have been cast as a housewife. And, honestly, I’m fine with that title. But I’m aware that in the eyes of those who are running for office in my state right now, I’m not a wife at all. Sarah Huckabee Sanders has been very clear that she believes states should be able to decide whether to recognize same-sex marriages. Likewise, Leslie Rutledge has repeatedly shown her disdain for marriage equality in the natural state. Both of them say they are all about protecting families and “American values.” 

As long as the families we’re talking about fit their narrow definition of family — they don’t want to protect my family. We’ve been legally married since 2007, but not all states (not even the federal government) recognized our marriage. In 2013, Section 3 of The Defense of Marriage Act fell in the ruling on United States v. Windsor, and in June of 2015 the Obergefell v. Hodges case led to a 5–4 ruling in favor of marriage equality, making our marriage legal in all 50 states. Our rental struggles took me back to the years of having to do fancy footwork when I was married in some states and not in others.

Edie Windsor and Thea Spyer were together for decades. They built a life together. Before Spyer’s death, they made the trek to Canada to get married. When Spyer died in 2009, Windsor was hit with inheritance taxes on Spyer’s estate, which she willed to her spouse. The hitch was DOMA, which kept the federal government from recognizing their marriage, even though New York, their state of residence did recognize it. Like Windsor and Spyer, we married in 2007 in Canada, and when DOMA fell, we became legal under federal law, but not under Arkansas law. 

Like Windsor and Spyer, we’ve built a life together over the last 18 years. The difficulties we’ve encountered in the last few weeks remind me I’m invisible to people like Huckabee-Sanders and Rutledge.  I remember protesting as Mike Huckabee held his Covenant Marriage rally on February 14, 2005, Dani holding a huge heart with “I can’t marry my Valentine” written on it. Dani and I met in Little Rock, protesting efforts to keep us invisible and keep us apart. And now, 18 years later, I can only wonder what Huckabee-Sanders and Rutledge have planned for Arkansas after November. The recently leaked draft opinion by Alito certainly sets the stage for those who want to bring down marriage equality to do so, and lots of us are already worried about rights being rolled back.

For the summer, though, our focus is on moving into our rent house and regrouping. Here’s hoping that the cardboard boxes don’t have to be used for protest signs, but maybe I’ll order some markers just in case. 

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