I have always loved country stores. Both of my grandfathers operated country stores, and though I have only the vaguest memories of them, I’m sure that’s where my love affair began.

After I got out of the service in the early ’70s, I went back to college. To supplement the GI Bill, I had a rural paper route. 73 miles round trip daily thru the farmlands of eastern North Carolina. There were four country stores on my route, each totally different from the others. The first was little more than a shack, containing a few canned goods, bread, cigarettes, and an assortment of candy bars and snacks. It also had the cheapest gas in the county. The owner, a widower whose name I can’t recall, was in a constant price war with one of the big oil company stations down the road. I remember paying 18 cents a gallon for regular at the peak of the competition in the summer of 1973. During the winter, he prepared a one pot meal on top of the pot bellied stove. His squirrel stew was memorable.

The second store was located in the middle of a cornfield with only a one lane tractor path for access. Its hours were irregular, but it provided the basic necessities for the surrounding families. If one found oneself in say, a late night toilet paper emergency, one had only to call the proprietor at home and he would open up to fulfill ones’ need.

Murray Whitford’s Store was the 3rd and largest of the stores on my route. Murray offered everything from hand cut steaks to sewing notions. Murray was dedicated to spoiling rotten my 3 year-old daughter Beth, who often accompanied me. Cookies, candy, ice cream; Mrs. Whitford’s homemade cakes, were hers without asking. My protests to the contrary fell on deaf ears. All I had to do was turn my back for a second, and one look at Murray’s grin told me Beth was behind the counter well into a sugar rush.

The fourth and final store was operated by the sweetest little old lady who was…..a bootlegger. For $2.50 a pint, she sold the finest ‘shine I’ve ever tasted. Where she obtained her hooch, I have no idea. Don’t ask, don’t tell was her motto long before the military ever thought of it.

Like many small businesses, today’s country stores are facing increasing pressure and competition from the national chains. Many stores that have operated for generations have been forced to close. We in Wythe County are very fortunate. With a total population of around 28,000 and a population density of 60 people per square mile, I guess there just aren’t enough folks to interest 7/11 and their ilk. Let’s hope it stays that way, because country stores are not only important centers of commerce in Wythe County, they are a vital part of our social fabric. Functioning as mini shopping malls and community gathering spots, the two featured here are five miles apart on Rt. 52 in the eastern part of the county.

Pure Country Convenience is located just off I-77 in Poplar Camp. Noted for discount gasoline and cigarettes, their take-out kitchen in the back corner serves up some pretty tasty fare. My personal favorites are the breakfast sandwiches which feature a slice of tomato on each one. Groceries, hunting supplies, toys and DVDs are just a few of their additional offerings.

Five miles south of Fort Chiswell and just down Rt. 52 from our humble little cottage is the New River General Store. Operated by our neighbors, James and Kathy Armbrister, the wonderful riverboat mural painted on the front by Hillsville artist Junior Lark makes the New River General hard to miss. This store carries pretty much everything you need. From hardware, plumbing and electrical supplies to clothes, groceries, and a deli with one of the finest chilidogs anywhere, the New River epitimizes what a country store can be. To paraphrase Garrison Kellor, if Kathy doesn’t have it, you can probably get along without it.

During deer season, James holds a best rack contest and come tax time, the county assessor sets up shop for the purchase of county stickers, saving us locals a trip into Wytheville. You can also purchase hunting and fishing licenses here. If that ain’t convenience, then I don’t know what is.