Following are accounts by several Bucktowners of different generations about the meaning of this place, this event, and why they continue to participate in it.
White Plains, a small community about a mile west of Buckville, was made up of farmers that owned land along the Ouachita River and North Fork of the river, had only one building for church and school. Mail was delivered along the road leading from Buckville to Story with each family having a mailbox. We all had wells for water, burned wood for heat and cooking, kerosene lamps for light, and outside privy. Washed on the rub board and boiled in the large wash pot. We could walk to visit several of the neighbors. White Plains school students began going to Buckville when I was in about the fourth grade. They used a covered truck for a bus. PB finished ninth grade at Buckville then stayed away from home with friends in Hot Springs and finished High School. 
Began teaching at Blakely camp before the water began to cover the area. This was in the fall of 1937. Did her college at Ouachita and Henderson teaching and going to school in summer, correspondence, Sat. classes, and anyway could earn an hour of college credit. Spent 40 years teaching, married and raised two successful children. Retired in l981 and have been busy doing church work and helping people that need help since. Her parents had their house torn down at White Plains and moved down on the Mt. Pine Rd. not far from Harvey's Chapel Church. (Pitts)
I have always had a memory of “going to the country,” not just to Buckville, but also to see the aunts and uncles (Grandma's brothers and sisters) and their children. I remember the drive as long, hot, and dusty—really dusty—the road was not paved after we turned off Highway 7, and the cars were not air-conditioned! 
I remember going up to clean off the graves and put flowers out, then going back in a week or two for Homecoming. I always dreaded the drive. Once or twice we went by boat. Daddy had bought a nice fishing boat with an outboard motor, and we went to Crystal Springs for the boat ramp. I also liked to swim in the lake—we got to do that a few times! Early on, there were seldom other people (fishermen, campers) in the area. Mother always fixed the food—last few years, it was from McClard’s—beef, pork, beans & slaw, soft drinks. Obviously, we set up our lunch in the same place (with the cousins).
Now I attend because I have gotten acquainted with a number of folks, and it is one time that I seem to see most of the Browns and Loyds. I used to dread going but now I look forward to it because it is a once-a-year to see relatives and others that were special to my mother. Going to this event helps me maintain a connectedness to her and allows me to honor things (maintenance of the church and cemetery) that were important to her. I think having this reunion helps us stay connected to our families, our family histories, and our heritage of places and ancestors.
I first went to Homecoming at age 9 weeks. I have missed 3 times in 38 years. So I don't remember ever not going to Homecoming. One thing we always did is buy new outfits every year. Back then we all wore dresses, but we have started dressing more casually, but I still buy a new outfit. We always lay our food out in the same place, the old concrete benches under the trees, we bring various food, but Inez Brown always makes her spaghetti casserole, which I love, and Gladys Bradley used to always bring me cornbread stuffing. We always use silk flowers and put them out before lunch. I used to always go swimming in the afternoon, but don't have time anymore.
I see a lot of my family only once a year at Homecoming. It is the only time we get together. I would never see some of them if not for Homecoming. It's a ritual for me, and it reminds me of my mom and grandparents and all my other relatives. I told my mom before she died I would keep the spirit of Homecoming alive. A lot of people who used to come have died and their families have quit coming. So our attendance is down substantially. But it seems we have had more improvements to the grounds, church etc. than ever. It's a much more casual event. There is no longer a church service and singing like there used to be. [But] I think it's important. It was important to [my ancestors], so it is important to me. It's like a tribute to them. Most of my connections are gone too, but to me it's my heritage, and I don't want to forget. Plus I still enjoy seeing the people who still go!
Since the time I could remember, our family always made the trip to Buckville for the decorations and reunions. I was born in Feb. of 1952 and when I was 3 months old, my parents moved to Oakland, CA. We stayed for a short time. So my first decoration day was in 1953.
I have to laugh, yes we have our "own table" at the arbor. We have been in the same place for about 50 years. The older women in the family bring the food. The menu hasn't changed much over many years. Fried chicken, cornbread dressing, vegetables and pies. I remember the trunk of my grandparents’ car was always filled with food. Grandmother always baked many pies and cakes to bring. They were so good. Now my mother and aunt do all the cooking. My turn will come.
We place flowers on the grave the first thing upon arrival. We had been up a few days before to clean off the graves and clean the headstones. We take extra flowers to decorate the graves that the loved ones can no longer attend or are deceased. An unadorned grave is a lonely sight. We take artificial flowers, as they stay nice looking longer. We place small flags on ours.
[Buckville] is the homeplace of my ancestors. My mother's family is buried in the Buckville Cemetery. The actual land is under the waters of Lake Ouachita. Buckville church and cemeteries are a representation of all the homes and farms of those that lived there. These homes went under water about the time I was born, so this is my visual and spiritual guide to those places that I will never be able to see. I love to listen to the older ones tell their stories of life at Buckville. I have been graced to see generations still attending the gatherings. Being at Buckville gives a sense of being home again. It is a time that we are given to honor those that came before us. A time to remember who gave so much to who we are today.
Personally the most changes I have seen over the years are the decreasing numbers of those in attendance. The older ones are dying and the younger ones do not seem to want to carry on the tradition of their parents and grandparents. This saddens me, as they are depriving their children of a piece of heritage that is theirs. Because of aging, many are not able to come and not able to care for the graves at Buckville. We can only pray that the perpetual care fund will suffice and keep all in order. We are losing about a dozen Bucktowers a year.
The last person in my family that was actually born in Buckville is my Mother (and her brother). My sister and I and my uncle's sons are committed to keep the tradition alive. We may be the only ones in attendance someday. The memory of Buckville will be kept alive, as long as someone remembers. This is something that one must strive to instill in one's children. A person dies, and leaves this world and the last remaining object that gives you a sign that that person was on this earth is a piece of marble that inscribes their name, birth date and date of death. From the time one is born, and until the year of death, tells a story. It is up to us to be their voice. Tell their stories to the younger ones, and make them live again in hearts and mines. We will continue on after death, if there is just one to remember. There is a tombstone in Buckville cemetery that rings so true, each time I see it:
Darling youth as you pass by
As you are now so once was I
As I am now, so you must be
Prepare for death and follow me.
I can only hope that with the passing of time, that Buckville will not be forgotten.
