Daddy In A Nutshell, Pt. 3

Daddy was an outdoorsman, an adventurer, and I was Daddy's little boy. Who knows whether I was born into it or groomed for it? I suspect the former, that Daddy was just playing to my strengths. After all, he tried with Mac and Sissy and they would have none of it. Me? I took to fishing and shooting and traipsing through plowed fields like a duck to water.

Daddy ran a furniture store. To this day, even after many times asking to have it all explained to me, I don't really understand how it all came about. I know that initially Daddy and Granddaddy worked together. Granddaddy owned the store. Clyde, Mom's brother also ran a furniture store, just around the corner. That street was full of furniture stores, which was in and of itself curious. I think there used to be four on one block. I guess Maryvillians bought a lot of furniture back then.

However, by the time I came along and started spending time at the store, Granddaddy had moved on to work with Clyde. I'm not sure when they moved their store a few blocks away. I seem to recall being in the original one a few times before they moved.

Think of Daddy's store as more like the jail in Mayberry. Less of a business, more of a hangout. Although Daddy did sell furniture and he never locked anyone up, as far as I know. But my memories are that Daddy cared much more about the people that were constantly stopping by than about the business end of things.

Daddy had a row of rockers and chairs set up on the first floor, along with a TV, and a refrigerator that was always full of Coca Cola (in bottles, of course). When there was a ballgame on, his friends would show up and they'd sit and smoke cigars and watch it on the TV.

A big part of the opening and closing routine was setting up the Igloo ice chests outside. The building used to be a filling station and the islands were still there (along with the tanks underground which would prove to be a bit of a headache when it came time to sell many years later). In between the islands, Daddy would make a pyramid formation using the ice chests. He was very proud to carry them. In fact, I'm pretty sure this is one of his firsts: The First to Carry Igloo Ice Chests in Blount County.

What can I say? That store was Daddy, through and through. One wall was full of signs and letters and photos he'd collected and tacked up. "Gone fishin'." A photo of his unit. Plaques about his ancestry. A wall full of taxidermy that included an owl whose eyes, I swear, would follow me around the store. Hornets' nests with a sign that said, "You won't get stung here?" A huge moose head. Lava Soap in the bathrooms. Man, can I remember THAT texture and smell! Signs in the bathrooms, too. (Friendly reminders, if you will.)

His office was in what used to be the elevator shaft. He had this fantastic roll top desk that was just chock full of interesting items. A drawer full of pocket knives. One filled with pens. Buckeyes. Coins. All sorts of little things he had collected that I loved to go through and look at, time and time again.

The counter was in front of the office. On it sat a register and a box of McDaniel Furniture Company matches. Underneath was a cash drawer which had a secret combination that involved switches that had to get pulled in the right way in order for it to open. Even as an adult I felt a strange sense of pleasure and power every time I opened it because I knew the secret.

On the counter there was also, at least for a time, a display of fishing lures that Daddy and a friend made and sold. And the top was glass and underneath the glass Daddy had put more notes, cards, photos, etc.

The store had three floors. "Three floors of furniture!" it once advertised. The top floor was the show area. Dressers, chests of drawers, chairs, desks, framed pictures. (One was of Jesus holding a baby lamb-I had this in my room at home for a while but for some reason when I looked at it upside down while lying in bed, it freaked me out so back to the store it went). There was a brief period in time when I "worked" for Daddy. My tasks consisted of cleaning the mirrors, dusting, and sweeping the tile floor. He showed me how to ring up customers although I'm not sure I ever did. I felt very grown up the day he taught me how to decipher the information on the tags.

The second floor was where the beds were, I think. It was only a half floor. Part of it was storage. For some reason the storage area was mysterious and going into it felt daring.

The bottom floor was really my favorite for many reasons. 1) Daddy kept the linoleum down there and when he had an order, he would let me mark the cut by snapping the chalk line. I loved the chalk line! 2) He put a basketball goal in one of the garage bays and would move his truck on rainy days so I could shoot hoops. 3) One end was the garage. The building used to be a filling station. This meant there were car lifts, grease, tools, and all manner of exciting boy things to explore and get into. Daddy had an employee named Fred who apparently didn't mind me hanging around. He would let me drill holes and nail things and sharpen tools and carry on. 4) I loved opening and closing the huge garage doors. 5) The ceilings were really high. Halfway up one wall, above the workbench, 10 or 15 feet off the ground, was a huge rectangular opening. This was the old coal chute. As I could never really grasp how that would work, it fascinated me. (I'm surprised I never climbed a ladder in order to look in there!)

Daddy was never one to let business get in the way of what really fed his spirit. (I am so like him in so many ways and this is one of them.) So every Wednesday he closed the store at noon and took off on some sort of adventure. Blackberry picking. Collecting walnuts. Looking for arrowheads. Fishing. Hunting. A drive somewhere with his best friend, Jeff. Visiting. (Daddy knew everyone, another way he was kind of like Andy of Mayberry.) Sissy continues to be amazed that he did this. Not the adventures. The closing the store every Wednesday. Being my Daddy's daughter, it makes perfect sense to me.