“An R.C. Cola and a Moon Pie”
I had grown to love my new home, warm and green compared to Kansas. A six year old notices things, differences mainly. Things like mountains covered with massive trees, I liked them far better than flat land and grass. Things like gravel roads, much better than asphalt, a never ending supply of limestone missiles to fling. Things to explore like woods, creeks, ditches and cotton fields. Things like “yes sir” and “no mam”, that’s what everybody said. Things like the water fountains at the big store, one was shiny and the other one said “colored”. And the rocky, rusty red Alabama mud. I didn’t mind it, but momma sure hated that red mud. Stained everything it touched.
The neighborhood I was to grow up in would serve to be an adventure every day. Growing up happens so slowly at that age, there is so much more out there that needs to be seen, experienced and explored. The time had come for a little responsibility. My chance to strike out on my own. Like the big boys, I could walk to the store with my friends now…. by myself. This was the first of many trips I would take to that little country store over the years.
With responsibility came some rules. Don’t cross the big street over to the woods, stay on the sidewalk all the way to the store, go straight down there and come straight back. I could live with that.
I loved Mr. Embry’s store, it always smelled good. You could smell the fresh picked strawberries when you walked in during the summer. Or when you went to the back of the store, the odor of bologna came wafting by from the butcher’s shop. The old dusty wooden planked floors creaked in spots. Like over by the corn flakes or next to the giant pickle barrel. Even though the pickles were a nickel, they were worth it. Pickles so big they would last all afternoon. But the real treat was an “R.C.” cola and a “Moon Pie”.
A true southern delight!