Visiting my grandmother’s home in South Georgia in the early 1970s was like going back twenty or thirty years. Many of the things commonplace in our homes today were absent. There was no air conditioning but plenty of fans humming. There was no indoor bathroom. There was an indoor bathroom, but the plumbing wasn’t connected, so we continued walking to the “outhouse.” For some reason, the plants around the outhouse grew green and tall.
Corn fields surrounded Grandmother’s house. My slightly older aunt and I would take my younger sister into the middle of the cornfield and leave her to find her way out. Once my sister was “planted,” my aunt and I would return to our front porch perch and watch the corn stalks move around until my sister began to cry. Looking back, that was mean of my aunt to do that.
Our schedule was discussed each day. But, if we weren’t careful, Grandmother would have us shelling peas or shucking corn. On a good day, we would find ourselves walking to the country store, and these trips could be more exciting than one may expect.
We could spend several hours making the round-trip trek to Tarpley’s Store. Most rural communities in South Georgia had a small country store with necessities of life. For a child, bread, milk, and eggs were not necessities. Our necessities were candy and Cokes.
As we made our way, we would ask each other, “What kind of ‘Coke” will you get?” In the South, every soft drink was called a “Coke,” whether from a bottle or later a can. To us, Dr. Pepper was a kind of “Coke,” as was Sprite, and so on. We had plenty of time to choose our “Coke” as we walked.
During those days, country dirt roads were lined with plentiful plum trees and prickly blackberry bushes. Our task was to pick as many plums or blackberries as possible, depending on the season. If we cupped our shirts just right, we could pick a bunch. Our tummies taught us at an early age to only eat the ripe ones.
Another part of the mission was to pick up as many “Coke” bottles as possible along the side of the road and return them for money. The part I left out, we would often begin our trip with no money, so the “Coke” bottle return was important. No bottles, no “Coke” and candy! Another problem was that the younger children didn’t find many bottles because they weren’t fast enough. So, we had to work out our version of asset redistribution.
Once we arrived at our destination, we proudly presented the storekeeper with the bottles we found and received our fortune. Only then did we know what delicious treats we could afford? The goal: everyone gets a “Coke” and some candy. Nehi grape or orange “Coke” was always at the top of the list of drink choices, and most of the candy was one cent a piece. Today, one 12 oz. Nehi grape drink will cost three dollars! I checked.
When our “business” was finished, we began our journey back. As we walked and talked (I can’t remember what we talked about), we sipped our drinks, ate our candy, and picked a few more plums and blackberries to my grandmother’s house.
Several times during our 43 years together, I’ve tried to show my wife the location of that exceptional place, Tarpley’s store. This iconic landmark from my childhood is long gone, but in my mind, it’s still standing and open for business. I can see the rusty tin roof and the white siding; I can walk up to the screen door with the Sunbeam Bread logo and go inside. Everything is in its place—the long row of candy and the “Coke” box cooler under the front window. For me, because it once was, it will always be…in my mind.
I sometimes yearn for simpler times when the biggest decision was, “What kind of Coke do I want today?”
Dirt Road Diaries 