Southern Raisin': It's Stored Right Inside
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The lady folk pitched in for bake, pie and cake sales in times of need. Further, turns were taken to sit up with the sick, attend various school and church functions, keep house, wash, iron, can, raise families and assist in running the local country stores.
The business quarters were in the cramped store back room space or the family kitchen table cleared after supper with a 40-watt light bulb glaring over scattered paperwork. The families in the various communities owned and operated these establishments. Not like today, when the stockholders of a big time outfit are in foreign countries and don't know the difference between blackberry sheep dip and strained grasshopper honey. Neighbor, these brilliant pillars of the community had to be bankers, veterinarians, farmers, weathermen, accountants, electricians, mechanics, plumbers and even welders.
Turn back the hands of time and calculate there was a post office in Burrough's emporium in the heart of Drummonds. Mr. Robert Williams, our dependable carrier, sorted the RFD mail and delivered from Densford's grocery store in downtown Kerrville.
Beloved in the close knit Kerrville community, residents knew what time the mail carrier commenced his route. Once Mr. John Saucier was expecting an important piece of mail, so he told little Penny to jump on her bicycle and fetch it early. She reiterated,
"I believe it was a Sears and Roebuck yearly catalog, but Daddy wanted a two hour early start thumbing through it." He warned her, "watch out for the railroad tracks." This was before black and white striped drop gates and flashing lights were installed. If you study on it and think about it, she didn't have to worry as the tracks never hurt nobody. Better worry about the mile long trains whistling by since they will part yo' hair, leave a greasy spot and not apologize.
All these proprietors had to possess mental vision as Maurice reminded me once he went to the Beaver Store at dinnertime to replace a plow line since the haw side had feathered out. No problem. Possibly a necessity for bluing to whiten up a Sunday church shirt, laces for some Red Goose brogans, just ease on over to Akins' corner. Anything you might need such as clothes pins, whether squeezing or straight shovin' so the long johns don't fly off the line. Order some salt, whether table, ham rubbing, or hand cranked Sunday ice cream freezer salt, stop in Gilt Edge since my brilliant country folks know yo' desires and it's always on hand. (That's Southernese).
Friends, decades ago we were blessed to utilize Wells' grocery in Brighton as we hung many sides of meat on those heavy metal hooks in the North Pole sub zero freezer. I could never forget Mr. 'Red' Fowler hacking meat and hanging it at Mr. Robert Douglas' store freezer in Bolton. The icy atmosphere was cold as an ex mother-in-law's heart.
Momma loved to visit Click's store at Dunlap Orphanage on our return trip home from an appointment with Dr. McGowan our family dentist in Covington. Slowly but surely, our Southern heritage memories of our wonderful country stores have disappeared.
Now all my country folks pull off the road, look around, tune in yo' bearings, squint and point. Possibly kick the asphalt where dirt and gravel previously resided, take a deep breath and slowly exhale with a sigh while barely whispering. "You know I can remember over there." "One time we uhhhh uhhhh! "Sadly, we'd better go on home."
The Country Stores Have Stored Many Country MemoriesÉ.GLORY!
-- What do you think?
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