“The more things change, the more they stay the same.”
— Well-used term, credited to French critic Jean-Baptiste Alphonse Karr (1808 – 1890)
Taking stock of what has silently disappeared over time, I thought about neighborhood grocery stores last week.
How they’ve all but disappeared from the American way of life.
“Run over to Raney’s,” Mom often directed me with a list of two or three things. “I need this to have supper ready when your Daddy gets home at five.”
And in a flash, I was peddling my bicycle through the neighborhoods. From our house on Redbud Lane to Raney’s Grocery Store.
A few blocks away on South Jefferson.
“Hello, Leon,” Mr. Raney said from his stool, where he often sat at the cash register just inside the door. “Your mother needing some things for supper?”
“Yes sir,” I said, placing the items on the counter. “Charge ‘it today?” he asked, reaching for the account book with Aldridge hand-written on the cover.
“Yes sir … please.”
Everything placed carefully in my bicycle basket, I was soon headed home. And I aimed to make it back without a torn bread wrapper or a leaking milk carton.
Mom never had eggs on her list for me, with good reason.
The white frame building bearing the “Raney’s Grocery sign sat at the top of the hill on South Jefferson, at Holland Street. Today, a modern convenience store sits in the exact location. A far cry from the once commonplace neighborhood grocery store.
Raney’s had gas pumps, unlike many neighborhood groceries of the day. In fact, it resembled a gas station where a grocery store was added after the fact. Even had a door separating the two.
Following the years of bicycle trips to Raney’s, I left and went off to college. Followed with a headfirst dive into the working world. During a visit home, I noticed Raney’s was gone one day. Replaced by a new business in a new building.
I don’t recall if he was the first to follow Raney’s, but the newer proprietor I remember the most was Robert Dunavant. Because he followed the same “greet the customer by name” business model practiced by his predecessors.
Fast forward a few more years into the age of computers. The day a message from longtime friend and onetime business partner Albert Thompson hit my inbox. “An old associate and friend from Mount Pleasant passed away this week in Ripley, Mississippi,” it read.
“Robert Dunavant.”
Albert related how Robert came to Ripley from Mount Pleasant in the 80s to purchase his, and the community’s, first McDonalds restaurant. “Robert was one good person, as hard of a worker as I ever shook hands with,” He concluded in his native Alabama, country boy terms.
“We ran a picture of him mowing the grass at McDonalds as he was wearing his necktie.
In reading his obit,” Albert added, “I see he is going back to Pittsburg, Texas, for a graveside on Saturday.
“We always talked about Mt. Pleasant, as I knew you were from there,” Albert said.
“Robert owned and sold a convenience store there, if I remember right. He always wanted a McDonalds. He had the opportunity to purchase other franchises but chose to be hands-on with the one. He worked until three weeks ago.
“Something tells me ya’ll likely passed ways one way or the other,” the message concluded.
“A great guy.”
Robert Dunavant and I, in fact, did “pass ways” to borrow Albert’s axiom. Where our family and many others on the south side of Mount Pleasant frequented Raney’s neighborhood grocery store, they continued to stop at Dunavant’s.
Mount Pleasant had more than one neighborhood grocery, but growing up on the south side of town, Raney’s is the one I remember.
Neighborhood groceries were just a few blocks away, and always had that quick loaf of bread or gallon of milk needed right at suppertime.
Also, the go-to place for a kid looking for a candy bar or cold drink on a summer afternoon.
Or needing air in a bicycle tire.
For my grandparents in Pittsburg, it was Unger’s Grocery Store on Mount Pleasant Street.
In Center, I’ve been told, it was places like Pete and Mattie Dellinger’s neighborhood grocery on Shelbyville Street.
Every community had them.
As South Jefferson grew from a sleepy two-lane street into a busy four-lane thoroughfare, I remember Robert as the friendly and outgoing guy Albert described as “hands-on” at the McDonald’s in Ripley.
Always there and always the one behind the counter.
My father probably knew him better than I did. When coming home to visit, a trip to Dunavant’s for something with my father was a given. “I need to run over to Dunavant’s,” Dad would say. “Want to go with me?”
“Sure,” I always said.
Figured it was most likely for something Mom needed to get supper on the table.
Because, despite change as a constant in the world, even then, some things just never changed.
