A Screen Door And A Baloney Sandwich

There was an old store on the way to the fishin' hole. Come to think of it, on the way to anywhere that mattered, cause Dad and I wouldn't dream of headin' out without stoppin' in. It was kinda homely lookin'. Not modern like the new mini-mart across the way. But when you heard the screen door creak open and slam shut, followed by the thump of boots on the wood floor, sure as shootin' you knew you were in the right place. Wasn't any air conditioning, but so what? The fan worked just fine. No fancy cash register either, cause the lady who worked up front knew arithmetic. But there was a big radio on the shelf that would grab your attention whenever Paul Harvey started talkin'. We always figured he'd tell us what was right with America. And if somethin' was wrong, his down home common sense would surely straighten it out.

I never cared too much for baloney sandwiches, except the ones Grover made while you watched. Never figured out why they tasted so good. After all, baloney's baloney ain't it? But back then I'd rather have ate a dozen of them than one fancy home cooked dinner. Besides, Mom wouldn't let me eat a Mr. Goodbar with lunch. Grover didn't care. And Mom was always fussin' about me drinkin' too much pop. All I knew was, Dr. Pepper never tasted so good as it did at the store. As soon as you pulled it out of the ice box and popped the top, I'll be John Brown if it didn't start makin' ice slivers!

You could just pay up and head out if you wanted, or maybe trade a few fishin' tales in the shade of the front porch while you ate. Mom would never find out, cause she didn't go fishin. :)

Well, I was back in town to see the folks last week. After most of 40 years, there is no sign that the store ever existed. Even the "modern" mini-mart is but an ancient relic now.

What started me to thinkin' about it was a serendipitous moment last September. I had just coughed up a wheelbarrow full of money for a new tourin' motorcycle. It was about a 600 mile ride home and I decided to let the big rigs have I-65 while I went in search of some twisties to ride. The further I rode from the hustle-bustle, the more the tension melted away. Drove through several wide spots in the road. Sometimes the speed limit would be reduced as the road widened and sometimes not. Just little communities of folks who had probably inherited land down through the years and would never entertain the thought of leavin'.

Eventually, I came upon a community that was big enough to have a store. The gas pumps out front were a welcome sight as well, so I stopped in to check it out. What I found took me to a place I didn't think existed anymore. I was 10 years old all over again. The sign said, "Gas - Bait - Soda" but it was so much more. The owner was as friendly as could be and happily showed me around. It was built in 1911 and has thrived through the years. The shelves are TALL! So tall that rolling steps are installed along the walls. The wood floor had that familiar thump and the old wood door sounded kinda familiar when it slammed shut. Of course, I got one of those fresh baloney sandwiches before I left. The store is in a Tennessee town called Burwood. If your ever in that neck of the woods, give 'em a holler!

I've been on several back roads since last Fall and have rode past more than a few old stores, almost all of them empty shells. In one area, I drove through three successive former communities. All that was left? Three dilapidated buildings. A whole generation passed on, and a new generation moved on to city life .


Anyway ... in case you didn't notice, I loved the old store in my hometown! From the bare light bulb hangin' down over my head to the cozy front porch. Life wasn't so rushed, so complicated, or so impersonal there.

But ... (seems there's always a "but" isn't there?) ...

Today's superstores are kinda nice too, in a different way.

The smorgasboard of selection, the opportunity to shop any time of the day (or night), the ability to go to just one place to take care of your banking, get prescriptions filled, buy groceries, clothing, home furnishings or most anything while having the oil changed or tires replaced on the car... all at the same time! And who wouldn't take a likin' to air conditioning, wide screen tv's, cable internet, digital cameras, laptop computers, and MP3 players. And how about that cell phone that magically brings voices of loved ones, weather maps and e-mail most anywhere you happen to roam. And the GPS that helps you find your way back home after you're through roamin'. And the .... well you get the point don't you?

I was wonderin' the other day if I'd be willing to trade the tangible wealth I have now for the reality of life back then? The kid in me says, "YOU BET!" But time soon sweeps childhood away, erases old stores, and seduces us with a nostalgic notion that life was better back then. Given the choice, I think I'd just choose to treasure the memories, but live in the present. Don't be surprised though if you come across a yellow motorcycle parked outside of an old store somewhere, and a fellow sittin' on the porch eatin' a baloney sandwich.