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.

Freedom

I realize now how special and unique my experience of Elliott's Island was. I was a cute little girl without a care in the world. There were folks like my mom and stepfather that were either off the island working, working the water, or working at home. Then there were teenagers like my brothers who took every opportunity to stay somewhere other than on the island. According to my brother David, the island was, "mind numbingly boring." This concept is foreign to me, because most of the time it was magical and I loved it.

My mom compares my freedom on my bike to that of the dogs. We both ran free without a care in the world. We got to hear, see, taste, and experience fully every inch of that island. I knew that life was hard and that my parents were busy trying to keep things a float. But I didn't really understand how different or poor we were. I now see what a blessing that was.

I was lucky in that many of the elder men were still alive when I was riding my banana-seat bike around. I was privileged to remember Mr. Happy, Mr. Smitty, Mr. Brice, Mr. Fisher, Mr. Dick and Mr. Charlie. I got to hear their stories. They died long before their wives as I assume they were older then them. But I remember them. I got to spend time with June-Mom and her 100-year-old sister Ms. Flossie. I remember Ms. Flossie being nice and staying off the gossip train. She was at home most of the time and I loved to hang out with her. I remember her having extremely long grey hair that she would meticulously brush and then braid each day. I got to see Mr. Charlie mowing his lawn and working in his garden as he neared 100 in age. He would kindly fill my bike tire for me if it was flat. I rode my bike all the time so I went through tires a lot. He would help when he could. I got to know Ms. Teenie and eat fried chicken with her. She wasn't teenie at all which is why she died rather young in comparison to everyone else.

Interestingly enough I don't remember details of how anyone died. Somehow it wasn't traumatic to me. It was just part of what happened. They lived until well into their 90's or more and then they were gone. That's all I remember. I wasn't sheltered from it. But somehow it wasn't taboo either.

I'm fighting the urge in my head to write details about stories that are flooding in. But that is not the purpose here. This is really about childhood freedom. Adults my parent’s age may have had this experience. And maybe some people my age, but I think it is rare. And my child’s generation certainly does not have this freedom or the experience of being outside with nature and talking to elders from sun up to sun down.

A typical bike ride for me would start with Poke's Road and end with running down (later it was climbing due to erosion) the hill to go to the beach. When I was done with that fantasy play and staring at the water I would hop on my bike and head towards Ms. Dessa's. Mr. Dick was likely in his huge beautiful garden so I would chat with him. I would stop in at June-Mom's (Dessa's mother) and get some sweets and then to Ms. Dessa's. Ms. Dessa always had something good cooking and maybe she was knitting. She was nearly blind but that somehow that didn't stop her. Then I was on to Nana's. On the way I might see Mr. Junior plowing a field. Mr. Charlie was in the garden and maybe Ms. Margie and her sister Ms. Elma. If I didn't want to go to Nana's yet I could pass her lane and head to Ms. Delema's and Mr. Happy's and maybe even stop at Ms. Mills. If I were lucky all the ladies would be gathered at Ms. Mills to gossip and puff on cigarettes. Then I would venture onward to Nana's. She was likely outside on the pump box eating watermelon or maybe she was on the phone gossiping with the other ladies or she could have been picking crabs. I loved to watch her because her hands moved so fast. It was amazing to me then and still is today. (More on the ladies and their crab picking careers later.)

After Nana's I would head back to the main road. There was maybe another stop at Ms. Dessa's and then to the Fire House to see if anyone was there. After that I would see Ms. Dot (after she retired it was Mr. Leroy) at the tiny closet sized post office. It was loads of fun to hang out with Ms. Dot and help her with the mail. Then I would stop by the church and see if there was anything happening there. I would peer in the graveyard on my way to Ms. Nora's. Ms. Nora's could provide hours of entertainment. I would get a coca-cola out of the old machine and probably some candy. Then I would sit on a bench and listen to the elder men tell stories. They could gossip even more then the ladies. They were there instead of being out on their boats in the water for one reason or another. I loved sitting at Ms. Nora's. They talked with such a strange accent that sometimes you couldn't understand them, but what I heard was always entertaining.

After that it was on to the wharf. There was likely a stop at my second favorite beach (Poke's Road was my favorite), and then onto the wharf itself. There maybe was someone, like Mr. Bill, under the pavilion drinking beer. He did that nearly daily as he was quite an alcoholic. He was so pleasant and entertaining though. Once I tired of that it was on to the boat docks. Maybe someone was baiting a line. I could watch that for hours and hours. It was almost hypnotic. I don't even think they would talk much to me, but I still liked to watch them. I would look out to see if anyone was coming in because I might get lucky and see someone unloading lots of crabs. That was always fun.

I remember how excited I was when the state put in a new dock area where the boats were. I called it my boardwalk. I would fantasize about this for hours as I rode my bike back and forth on it a million times. I occasionally got a little crazy and once even dumped my bike into the marsh. My Walkman sunk and I nearly followed suit trying to rescue it.

Occasionally some big boat from "away" would come in the summer and visit the island. I remember a sailboat or two. That was super exciting. Also exciting was if the teenage boys were at the wharf jumping of the lighthouse railing. It wasn't actually a lighthouse but it was something in the water with light to guide in the boats. I don't think I ever went swimming off it but it sure was fun to watch them having fun and being crazy. It was better then them growling at me which is what they did most of the time.

It was an amazing time of freedom and childhood exuberance. A time I am very grateful for.