Ms. Nora's Store - entry

Walking down the island road past the cemetery I would get excited as the change clinked in my pocket. I knew that very soon some sweet candy and maybe even a coke would be in my hand. I would pick up the pace at times to out run the mosquitoes. That was futile as the mosquitas (as we called em') on Elliott's Island must have been the size of birds and could fly faster than a jet plane. At least that is how it seemed to a little child with skeeter bites all over. It didn't matter though when going to Ms. Nora's store was involved. The pay off was worth the pain.

Ms. Nora's store was the only store on the island (most of the time). Occasionally another store would open and close, but Ms. Nora's was an institution. It was a small decrepit building with one gas station out front. Ms. Nora was always there in her moo-moo dress. As I approached I may have seen her pumping gas or filling water from the outside spicket. I don't think the store had running water as I remember. My house didn't either so it wasn't odd. What was odd was that Ms. Nora chose to live in the back of the store most of the time instead of in her house. There was a lot that seemed odd about Ms. Nora.

Looking back though, maybe through her grouchiness she didn't want to leave the store either. It really was the pulse of the island in many ways, at least in the late 70's and early 80's. Whatever happened on the island was certainly talked about again and again on the benches and chairs at Ms. Nora's.

I can remember as I would get closer I would start thinking about what candy I would buy and begin to wonder who might be at the store that day. In the early years it was always full of people. They were very old, so as I grew they died and the population at Ms. Nora's dwindled. But it the late 70's Ms. Nora's thrived.

Maybe I would get a candy bar. Or possible one of those colored sugar things in a piece of plastic fruit. The excitement was part of the journey. As I passed the graveyard my pace quickened as I was almost there. Plus I really didn't like graveyards. There was always someone dying of old age, maybe that was part of it. Death was just part of life on the island.

Just before the staircase I might get lucky and catch a glimpse of Warren's car. Warren was Ms. Nora's son. He commuted back and forth to the city (I think). He was a character in his own right. I saw him as pretty odd, including his car that was always packed to the gills with God-knows-what. I don't even know how there was space for him.

Ms. Nora's store was no different. It was packed from front to back. One had to be careful with what was bought. No cans. They were often bulging because they had been on the shelf so long. Even candy bars had to be bought with a little inspection.

After climbing the stairs and flinging open the rickety screen door I would b-line it for the candy case. It was as if the heavens were singing. It was pure joy for a little island girl. Until I had my treat I couldn't be bothered with even seeing who was at the store or eaves dropping on their conversations. Picking the right candy was important business. I can remember Ms. Nora getting frustrated because she was standing at the register waiting for me instead of listening in on the conversations. She would try to hurry me along but it was futile.

Finally, once the candy and maybe soda pop (if I was flush that day) was procured I would head to the register to pay. This was my least favorite part. Although I ate meat at that time it never was my favorite. I do think I have always been a vegetarian at heart. Staring at jars of pickled pigs feet and knuckles was torture. This was when Ms. Nora would chat with me, probably because she liked to see me squirm.

After the journey was complete, my skeeter bites and me would take a seat on the bench and prepare to listen to the highlights of gossip coming from the mouths of the island old timers. It was pure bliss.