This is the Buchanan General Store. We used to walk up there and buy cold cokes, Coca-Cola to be more specific. It seemed like all of my friends’ mamas and grandmamas were obsessed with their Coca-Cola souvenir collections.
They had Coca-Cola plates, bottles, small statues of creepy kids drinking Coca-Colas, lamp shades, tin signs, clocks, hell even Santa got in on the Coca-Cola memorabilia.
I never understood the obsession with it. I suppose it really did have cocaine in it at one point and people were longing for the good ole days. I was more of a Dr. Pepper and Zero Bar kinda gal myself.
My grandma wasn’t into collecting Coca-Cola memorabilia, but she would compliment people on their collections as if she really cared when I knew she really didn’t. She was a sassy old woman who knew everyone around those parts and in true southern form, she’d be real nice just to get information out of you just so she could turn around and talk shit about you later.
She’s probably rolling over in her grave right now. She’s buried just about four miles down the road from the Buchanan General Store. I miss her everyday.
