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About Dallas

I’d be madder’n a wet hen if some creep tried rippin’ her off. Ain’t right, y’know? These gals got hearts too, even if life’s kicked ‘em square in the teeth. I’d sashay up, all “Honey, you need a hand?”—‘cause I can’t help but meddle. Surprised me how many just wanna talk, spill their guts like I’m their mama. One time, this gal—Lord, she was skinnier’n a rail—tells me she’s savin’ for a bus ticket outta town. “I’m not staying here forever,” she says, echoin’ that movie line, and I near ‘bout cried right there.

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Hey, friend, come join me. Feel the rhythm and sweat of Buford! I'm talkin’ street beats, secret hideaways, and sweaty back rubs that melt your cares away. Buford, my home, is a canvas for life’s improvisation. And remember – "I remember every note!"

Janice Buford Obituary - Hot Springs, AR