A SQUIRT BOTTLE FULL OF MEMORIES OF THOMPSON VALLEY

It’s amazing how one simple act can trigger long forgotten memories. That’s what happened recently when I stopped at Buc-ee’s to get a drink. Buc-ee’s has a very wide variety of fountain drinks and today I noticed that one of those choices was “Squirt.”  I has been many years since I have had Squirt, in fact I didn’t even know if they still made it. So, I got a large cup and continued my journey.

As I piddled along, sipping my “Squirt,” my thoughts return to my childhood. I grew up in Tazewell County, Virginia. In a little close-knit community called Thompson Valley. When I say close knit, I mean, our neighbors were dear friends. Actually, More Like Family. People who could be trusted to be there to help when help was needed. 

I remembered the time when the entire valley would gather at that little four room school a few times a year for “Community Suppers.” Where the men would spend the day roasting meat like deer, bear and beef over an open pit. The ladies of the Valley would spend the day preparing “Covered dishes,” and deserts. 

Then about 5 p.m. the people of the valley would begin to show up and a little after 6 one of the local preachers would say the blessing and we would eat until we were “full as a tick.” There was never a shortage of food. OH, what fond memories.

 But, that the heck does “Squirt” Pop have to do with all this. Well, in addition to that little 4-room school, there was another place that basically served as the community hub. That place was a little country store that was operated by Mr. Joe Harris and his wife Miss Margaret. 

That little store was a place where a various times during the week the Men would gather and do something that we don’t do much anymore. They would sit on an old bench or a wooden pop crate and just visit. 

They would catch up on the news and share their opinions about what the Idiots in Richmond and Washington were doing. (Not much has changed on that front over the years.) You see back in those days we didn’t have internet, or cell phones. Joe Harris’s little Store was our internet and our social media. 

They would talk about their gardens, and how many cutting of hay they were going to get. And they would swap stories. Many a time I would sit there and listen to Ralph and Todd Harris and the other “Bear Hunters” talk about running a bear across Beartown into Roaring Fork. 

As I sat there listening to these wonderful stories, sooner or later someone would pitch me a dime and tell me to get a bottle of pop. Without hesitation I would hurry over to that old chest pop machine and open the top. There dangling by their necks were those (as Jerry Clower put it) Nehi belly washers and my favorite Squirt. 

The bottles dangled in the ice-cold water. I would put the dime in the slot and drag the bottle along the rail until I got it to the slot and pulled it up through the trip door that had been unlocked by the dime. There was nothing better than sitting on a pop crate drinking Squirt out of that green swirly bottle, listening to those wonderful stories. I didn’t realize it at the time, but, man oh man, those were “THE GOOD OLE DAYS. Who would have thought that a visit to Buc-ee’s would trigger such a flood of wonderful memories.