(This article originally was published by HuffingtonPost.com. Comments not included here.)
By Beth Arnold
I am a 53-year-old Southern woman. I live in Paris now, but come from Arkansas, the former land of Bill and Hillary Clinton. In the days before his first inauguration, which my husband and I merrily attended, we used to see Bill jogging down the street and Hillary browsing in our video store. My daughter went to nursery school with Chelsea. Hillary had investigated the schools, and a friend told me which one she'd chosen. We all knew Hillary would pick the best, and several of us followed her and Chelsea there. The Clintons were right up our progressive alley. We believed in them and thought they would change our country in the most positive ways.
That was then. This is now. Arkansas can still claim Bill since he's a native and his library is located in Little Rock, which has contributed to the city's successful downtown resurgence. But Hillary moved on to New York, where she had a good shot at a Senate seat that would quickly provide a stepping-stone. I could certainly understand why Hillary (and Bill) didn't want to return to Arkansas. They had outgrown our state.
