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Wooden Benches

Wooden Benches M.J. King Appalachian Heritage, Volume 29, Number 3, Summer 2001, pp. 58-59 (Article) Published by The University of North Carolina Press DOI: https://doi.org/10.1353/aph.2001.0018 For additional information about this article https://muse.jhu.edu/article/436110/summary Access provided at 19 Feb 2020 20:30 GMT from JHU Libraries FICTION MJ. King WHEN IT WAS ALL SAID AND DONE, Simmons Gas Station was finally torn down. Pa Beattie said there was nothing we could do about it. I cried for six days. Dad said boys didn't cry over what they couldn't fix. I couldn't imagine walking out of the holler and not seeing that run- down gas station beckoning to me like an old friend lonely and blue. Mama said I could go to the new Chittybang Gas Station. It wasn't but a few more steps down the road in the opposite direction. I just didn't see the Chittybang in the same way I saw Simmons, with its rusted white and yellow sign hanging out front exclaiming to the world that they had Co-Cola. The rest of the letters had been eaten through by rust years ago. My best friend Ray used to meet me at Simmons because he lived on the other side of the ridge. http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png Appalachian Review University of North Carolina Press

Wooden Benches

King, M. J.
Appalachian Review , Volume 29 (3) – Jan 8, 2014
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Publisher
University of North Carolina Press
Copyright
Copyright © Berea College
ISSN
2692-9244
eISSN
2692-9287

Abstract

M.J. King Appalachian Heritage, Volume 29, Number 3, Summer 2001, pp. 58-59 (Article) Published by The University of North Carolina Press DOI: https://doi.org/10.1353/aph.2001.0018 For additional information about this article https://muse.jhu.edu/article/436110/summary Access provided at 19 Feb 2020 20:30 GMT from JHU Libraries FICTION MJ. King WHEN IT WAS ALL SAID AND DONE, Simmons Gas Station was finally torn down. Pa Beattie said there was nothing we could do about it. I cried for six days. Dad said boys didn't cry over what they couldn't fix. I couldn't imagine walking out of the holler and not seeing that run- down gas station beckoning to me like an old friend lonely and blue. Mama said I could go to the new Chittybang Gas Station. It wasn't but a few more steps down the road in the opposite direction. I just didn't see the Chittybang in the same way I saw Simmons, with its rusted white and yellow sign hanging out front exclaiming to the world that they had Co-Cola. The rest of the letters had been eaten through by rust years ago. My best friend Ray used to meet me at Simmons because he lived on the other side of the ridge.

Journal

Appalachian Review – University of North Carolina Press

Published: Jan 8, 2014

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