Out with the old Harps, In with the New One

I admit to struggling mightily not to cry as I returned the cart to Harps at Hillcrest Plaza on its last day. Shopping wasn’t the intention; meandering down memory lane was. Figured I would stroll through, buy a Twinkie and a Coke and be on my way. But shop I did, grabbing items not normally in my field of vision - like colored toothpicks, Brillo pads and large boxes of matches - and picking up the usual cheeses, chips and crackers, forgetting the Coke and Twinkie.

When my family settled in Ripley County in June of ‘69, Big Star was there. Both parents were employees - Mom for maybe a week and Dad part-time. When my mother received the call to start at First National Bank, she hated leaving so soon. Her boss Mr. Whittom was kind, easing her guilt. Dad made friends quickly among his cohort. When he no longer needed the income boost, he would stop by to visit. He met his future son-in-law there - way before this daughter would. It would have tickled Dad had he known one of his great grandsons would work in Harps at that address.

As a new driver, Big Star was a place I was allowed to go on errands, making me feel all grown up. It was a destination on college breaks in hopes of running into anyone I knew, which was bound to happen ONLY if I looked awful. Shopping as a newlywed, I recall how full the cart was and how thankful I felt for the monetary gifts used to pay for it. It’s where I shopped as a new mom, too. I don’t remember when in my timeline it became Wallace & Owens, but the location remained my store. Interacting with students there, with roles reversed, was peculiar. What if one could tally all the kids who had their first sampling of adult responsibility behind that glass front!

In those aisles that became Harps, I encountered former students all grown up. Later I would see them shopping with their own kids, then grandkids. As time passes, progress happens. Harps at its new address is already my store, whether I'm running in quickly for a snack or for an occasional overflowing cart. I will look for familiar faces and that smiling grandson - memories in the making still.