107 steps.
That's how far it is from my backdoor to the Village Store. Every morning I take those 107 steps before I do almost anything else.
The first time I came to Shimerville, I didn't even notice the store.
My wife and I were house hunting and she had seen a classified real estate ad in the metropolitan daily where we both worked. She was looking for a Victorian, a mild fixer upper that would be affordable and within commuting range (we had agreed on a 50 limit). I had grown up in New England and preferred Colonials, but I could be sold on anything that was old as long as it was true to its period. Too many old houses suffer from inappropriate additions or deletions, but this house seemed to fit the bill.
It was built in the 1870's in the "Italianate Renaissance Revival" style and had stayed in the same family for more than 90 years without any exterior changes. Only a brick kitchen chimney on the back of the house had been removed. Luckily a quick succession of five different owners, didn't give any of them a chance to really change the house's appearance. It did need a great deal of work, but was "livable," although over the years the definition of that was debatable and has undergone as many revisions as the house.
The house was located on a moderately busy state road right in the center of Shimerville. I didn't notice anything other than the house that first trip.
The next week when we came by for my second look I fell in love with the village as much as the house. Walkable from the house were the Village Store, three churches, town hall, post office, historical society, elementary school, library and park. Down the hill behind the house was the lumber yard that once belonged to Clarence Shimer was serviced by a railroad that paralleled the main road. This was a town I could live in.
Because of an estate settlement, the price of the house was right. We bought it, moved in and set out on our five year plan to fix it up. We are currently in year 24 of the five year plan!
I don't know why it took me more than two weeks to take the 107 steps over to the Village Store, but when I did it was like stepping back in time and I've been doing it almost daily ever since. The store was built in the 1860's and has hardly changed. At one time it also served as the post office and for a brief time between the world wars had a gasoline pump out front.
The first thing you notice walking in the double doors is the old stove sitting right in the middle of the room. Everything inside, the walls and ceiling which is made of wooden bead board, is painted white or at least it was about a decade ago. The wide board wood floor have never been given a second thought since the day it was put it. It is deeply rutted in high traffic areas, scarred in places where a vent or old fixtures once lived and the crevices between the board probably still contain saw dust for years gone by.
Across the back in front of the kitchen area are deli display cases and on a low rack in front all the daily and weekly newspapers laid out. To the right was the original store counter with a cash register.
Against the front wall of the store between the windows is every one's first stop, the hot coffee pots.
All of this serves as a daily stage for the regulars.
Past the coffee against the far left wall is a stand up counter top with stools where all the regulars hang out.
The regulars are the main attraction of the store. In good weather they hang out on the front porch, in bad they move inside.
On most days the most regular of the regulars is perched on his stool, Tom "Tools" Murphy.
Tom, who as you might guess is Irish, has an addiction for old tools, or anything resembling a tool, or anything metal, or almost anything else that could be beside described as scrap or junk.
He spends his weekends roaming all the area flea markets buying up treasures and spends his Monday mornings showing them off to all the customers.
"Tools" has a special arrangement with the owners. In exchange for keeping the coffee pots full and running errands, he gets his coffee and breakfast for free.
He also feels obligated to tell everyone what's going on in his life. And if you hang around long enough each morning, you'll hear it repeated maybe five or six times in a half hours time.
The other day was a typical example. Everyone who dared to venture over to his corner heard how the day before he had dialed 911 twice by mistake. And when he got the Shimerville Police Department on each occasion he informed them he was trying to call, not them, but a prison. Seems he has a relative in prison in North Carolina (area code 919). Not surprisingly the SPD showed up at his house not long after. He showed them the piece of paper with scribbled number he was attempting to reach and the officer had a good laugh. The day was also not lost for either of them as Tom gave the officer a free tour of his tool collection.
The first time he tells you his daily tale its funny enough, but with each successive repetition it takes on added hilarity as you get to observe the reactions of different regulars and unsuspecting strangers.
It's not a bad way to start the morning. The coffee and egg sandwiches aren't bad either.
Well, I've finished my coffee and it's 107 steps back home and to the rest of my day.
