RC Cola and Moon Pie

Posted: September 21, 2011 in Uncategorized


Growing up I loved to spend time at my “Pop’s” house. There were so many fascinating things. Cows and horses, guns, the ceramic urn in his shop filled with muskedine wine, and nothing more special than the can on his desk of nickels, dimes, and even quarters. (Big money in those days).

Two doors away was Mabry’s gas station. The old fashioned pumps, and a general store with RC Cola and moon pies. After the chores were done, Pop would say, “go get a dime and go get you a RC and moon pie.”

Sitting around the store would be some of the “old timers” from the community. On Mondays they would be enjoying a plate full of “roast preacher.’ Billy might say, ‘Yeah, it was our turn to feed the preacher yesterday. Dad ‘gum, he ate all the white meat.’ “Know what you mean,’ Tom would say. ‘Wad ya think of that sermon on hail, yestidy,” as he leaned up and spit in the old spitoon in the corner?

“Way I figur it is, he got it all wrong,” says Joe. “”cordin to him, Cooter here is gonna fry. He ain’t ever been to church. But dang it, if he ain’t going to heaven, ain’t nobody gonna make it.”

“Dat rite, Coot,” asked Billy. “Whale,” sed Cooter. “I duz take me a snort of the old mountain dew now and then, and I throws around a few cussins, but I ain’t never hurt nobody. Just never saw the point of church after listening to you barbie-Q your preacher each week.”

“But tell you da truth,” sed Cooter. “If heaven ain’t a lot like dat old mill pond down the road, and a little like Spartanburg county, “I don’t ker to go anyway.”

So think about this: Is it, “da way I figur it,” or is it “God said?” And could it be that “the way I figure it” is actually idolatry?


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