The Walk — Part 2

One step is all it takes to begin a journey, whether it’s a thousand miles or only one.

When I was a little girl I walked a thousand miles through Citronelle. With no one to look after me, I stayed at Mama’s office. More accurately, I strayed around Mama’s office.

Left to my own devices for hours on end, I walked. I always left her office and went south on North Mobile Street. At the corner, I would wait for the revolving time and temperature sign on the bank to do a complete revolution so that I would be in the know.

Turning left on State Street, I would walk a block past the First Presbyterian Church, which always seemed curiously locked up tight and in which I have never stepped foot to this very day. Come to think of it, First Presbyterian is probably the only church in Citronelle that I’ve never attended. But I digress.

On past the church at the next corner was Main Street, anchored on the south end by Newberry’s Department Store. I would usually wander in to examine the new clothes and shoes and admire all the lacy, embroidered handkerchiefs displayed in a long, glass case near the front. It was air-conditioned in Newberry’s.

Then on past the thrift store, which was always hot and dark and musty-smelling, past Mr. Carl’s barber shop where the men would all be gathered to talk, and past the Benson’s flower shop, which always smelled of funeral.

On to Terrell’ five-and-dime for a visit with Mr. Buster, the owner. Terrell’s had everything from toys to costume jewelry to crochet thread to candy. Sometimes I would get a Sugar Daddy, or some wax lips, or candy cigarettes. You have to be careful with candy cigarettes, however, lest you be perceived as trashy.

Back out on the sidewalk, I would always stop to talk to Gladstone Trotter, who drove the cab. Gladstone ran his business from the only pay phone on Main Street, and if you needed a ride, you called that number. Rain or shine, summer or winter, Gladstone could be found leaning up against the storefront waiting for a call, usually surrounded by a few other fellows who would stop to chew the fat. I’m here to tell you that a little girl can learn a lot listening to what men say when they think she is not paying attention.

On northward to the Courtesy Food store. As shoppers moved in and out through the glass doors, great gusts of cold, cold air smelling faintly of onions and Pine-Sol would momentarily refresh me. A quick peek to see who was bagging groceries that day, then on my way.

Down through the alley by Andrew’s Hardware, where I always cut through so as not to have to pass the liquor store to get back to Mobile Street. Lord only knows what kind of degenerates would be at the liquor store. I listened to the preaching. I knew. Best for a little girl to avoid it altogether.

Back on Mobile Street, I always checked for want ads in the Post Office in case I might recognize someone, then I would meander next door to the Citronelle Rexall Drug to see if there was a new Richie Rich comic book. If I had a little money, I might get a vanilla Coke from the soda fountain. If not, I would smell all the perfumes while singing the Enjoli jingle.

Walking south on Mobile Street toward the prisoners washing the fire truck in front of the jail, I would arrive back at Mama’s office, my journey complete — at least until tomorrow.

Although I didn’t realize it at the time, every step in my ritualistic, block-wide odyssey was a lesson – lessons I still rely on every day. When to talk. When to listen. When to explore. When to to be careful. Who can be trusted. Who can’t. People are all different. People are all the same. Get by. Get along. Trust your instinct. Trust yourself.

All in the span of a block, walked.

19 Comments Add yours

  1. Barbara Robinson says:

    It saddens me to see the way Main St looks today!

  2. Sharon Thomason says:

    Hi Audrey, I enjoyed the walk through Citronelle. I believe the only thing different from when I lived there was that the grocery store was National’s.

  3. Beth says:

    A young lady could not be too careful about her reputation and candy cigarettes just skirted that line a little too closely.

  4. Lana Myers says:

    Audrey, You remember Citronelle well. I wish it was still thriving like it was in those days!

    1. Me too, Mrs. Myers, me too. Thank you for reading!

  5. sara Green says:

    Sad that main Street is as it was. I loved to shop and Rosens, Strongs and at newberry, for different now as we only have dollar stores and Freds. Sara Green

    1. It is sad to see all the local businesses gone from Main Street. Thank you for reading!

  6. Mekeshua says:

    Awesome story Audrey! I can visualize Mr. Gladstone right in that very spot! I also remember coming out of the back door of the laundromat and coming to play with you at your mom’s business. Good times!

    1. I remember that well, Mekeshua! Good times indeed. Thank you for reading!

  7. Kaye Melton Beaty says:

    Thanks Audrey for the walk. It is a reminder of a wonderful time.

  8. Bea Thomas says:

    Audrey, thank you so much for the well written Walk down memory lane. It brought back so many memories. Our children and grandchildren are missing so much. I love Citronelle and hate to see the decline in the last 40 years. Thanks again for sharing your memories.

    1. I’m so happy you enjoyed it! I wish our children could have the Main Street of our memories.

  9. Linda Wainwright Flemming says:

    Beautiful memories. I have many, including the beauty of the place your mother worked, all that marble! I thought it must have been the richest place on earth. There was a time when all of Main Street was busy, with cars parked on both sides of the street as shown in the photo included. I do believe, by the way, that the Oldsmobile at the forefront in the photo was ours. Perhaps we were shopping in Newberry’s that day, or my Dad and brothers were getting hair cuts at (Mr. Carl) Welford’s Barber shop. I am happy to have been a kid in that town. and, as others noted, so sad to see it now.

    1. The bank was beautiful. And how cool that your recognize your family’s car! Thank you for reading!

  10. Charlotte Averett Martin says:

    Wonderful memories. Sad that our grandchildren can’t go unattended anywhere anymore. We didn’t realize how good we had it back then. Thank you for the trip down memory lane.

    1. I sure didn’t! Glad you enjoyed it!

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