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Browsing Tag: #coop
On April 25th, 2014, I visited two bedsides at the local hospital. One belonged to a friend who had just delivered a baby, the other a friend who was slipping from this world and reaching for Heaven. One room was joyful, with friends and family packed in among flowers and balloons, the other, quiet and nearly barren. That was a difficult day. But one of my more eloquent friends so gracefully reminded me that it was a great blessing to witness both new beginnings and near departures. So I’m remembering those wise words today. Yesterday afternoon, I was fortunate enough to witness my good friends’ daughter march across the stage, composed but jubilant, in her Valedictorian robe. There was much celebration and a few happy tears for this new adventure in Lindsey’s life. Lindsey is no slacker; she’s been brought up to be kind, first and foremost, and to study hard and work harder. Hard work pays off, and the little squirt is sitting on $50,000 in scholarships, not least of all from our beloved Patron Saint Dolly Parton. Next stop Rocky Top, as her mortarboard proclaimed. 5′ 2″, 105 pounds, and solidly 4.0 (even though she’s really a 10), FFA president and counter help at the Co-op, Lindsey is top of her class both literally and figuratively. She’s went from a timid little grasshopper of a child, to a poised young lady I…
It began with the song Hot Rod Lincoln. Ronnie Brackins was my friend, although he would have never admitted it. But the crowd in the parlor testified to Ronnie’s overall likeability. I was outside, marveling at his John Deere parked at the porte couche, and every time the attendants opened the glass doors I could hear the laughter and boisterous conversation inside. I signed the book and added ‘Co-Op’ in parentheses. I never really knew Ronnie’s children, so I didn’t go up front, instead slipping into the pew beside Robin and Jerry. It is the official Co-op pew. As we sat there, I remembered well another funeral we had attended for another tire shop employee years ago.And then I had to grin, because I remembered the more recent time I’d sat here- the funeral of Joe Woods. That was the time I’d got in the wrong car, mistakenly thinking it was Robin’s, and instead it was piloted by a guy with a nose ring and a young lady with some pink hair who were horrified that a stranger was attempting to climb in their backseat at Food City soon after they parked. I was even moving their Christmas presents out of my way. I digress. So here comes Margaret, and boy was I glad to see her. She is one of the sweetest women to ever work at the Co-op. I haven…
A lifetime ago, I was the new girl at the Co-op. I was continually dazzled and awed by the celebrities that darkened our doors. I’ve seen Phil Fulmer, Bill Landry, countless local politicians, loads of Partons (my favorite is Bobby), and the mule man from Silver Dollar City. Seems like everybody needs the Co-op at one time or another. But some of the ones I remember the fondest are the ones who aren’t famous at all. There was an old gentleman, always neat, always precise, always cordial, that came in regularly. And to be honest, I was terrified to wait on him. I didn’t want to mess up. He frequently had one or two sons with him, and their presence just added to my nervousness. More witnesses to see me mess up. One afternoon I didn’t have a choice but to wait on him and his five pound bag of bolts. Gary wasn’t there to bail me out and I had to look up every single size in “The Book”. That’s not the good book, but it is the Co-op Bible. Before the internet, it’s what we had for information. It was like a condensed farming encyclopedia with item numbers, descriptions, pictures, and prices because plenty of Co-ops still wrote hand tickets in the early 2000’s. Anyway, there were several pages of tables for pricing bolts. First you…
