This story is published in partnership with Ozarks Alive, a cultural preservation project led by Kaitlyn McConnell.
MOUNT JUDEA - The old-fashioned white mercantile caught my attention as I drove into Mount Judea, a small town in rural Arkansas with a school, cafe, churches, a post office, a couple of stores and 100 or so residents who pronounce it “Judy.”
I parked my car and crossed the road, the start of this story about quaintness and change and how a sense of community makes life special.
But first came the steps up the stairs and into the landmark-like mercantile, which I learned from Sue Campbell has been around since the early 1900s.
She was working behind the old-fashioned counter at the Mt. Judea Mercantile when I went inside (across the similarly longtime wooden floors) and looked around the stately store that retains its historical charm but not traditional contents.
Instead of typical dry goods as one might expect in such a store, its shelves hold local arts and crafts, photos and more. While locals do buy some products — including the homemade goat soap, as Sue tells me — much of its wares are perhaps geared towards tourists who are passing through to scenic spots, like nearby Sam’s Throne.
After saying goodbye (or so I thought), I ambled down to the metal-clad Kent General Store to see if they might have something to snack on before I motored onward. I saw a sign on the door that said they sold burgers, a message that became overwhelming as I walked inside and was greeted by the aroma of freshly-cooked beef patties.
I put in my order and settled in at one of a few tables covered in blue-and-white checkers, bottles of condiments and a container of toothpicks. I looked out the window as I waited for my burger, reading flyers in the window about revivals and my thoughts went to a concept that is not new, but still intrigues me when it comes to mind.
With its new look and relatively recent start (since 1984, the sign says) this store may not elicit nostalgia, but it provides exactly the same function for this small community as the one two doors down once did. I wonder if people saw old-fashioned stores as romantic in the past. They were a place of everyday business; simply where locals went for the things they needed — just as this gas station is, with its burgers and notices and friendly young woman behind the counter who told me she has lived in the area all her life.
Perhaps in the future we will see this store through the lens of the good ol’ days when we could go in and get a burger, some baking supplies or a cold drink. Or maybe it will evolve and carry a legacy similar to the old-fashioned mercantile, which has found new life and a new chapter by adapting to the times.
Such thoughts filled my mind as I left the gas station and walked down the road to my car. I passed by Sue, who had settled into a rocking chair on the store’s front porch and was reading a newspaper. With the quiet yet curvy road out front, the peaceful scene made me smile. It was a grin the grew along with my eyes when I approached another small white building just past my parked car.
I couldn’t tell what was in the small white building until I got in front of it and saw the sign: “Little Free Library,” it proclaimed. With other signs saying “Welcome” and “Come On In” in the windows, I turned the gold doorknob and went inside. I entered a room full of books, and a simple sheet of paper. On it, locals are asked to leave their name and the titles of books they borrowed. That’s it. There aren’t staff or hours, just an opportunity for folks to borrow reading material if they would like.
I was so touched by this honor-system spot that I went back over to Sue and asked if she knew anything about it. She did, as it happens, since she’s part of the ladies group who brought the library to creation. The building was once the post office, she said, and when that was moved to a new location, they transformed the building into the library.
Like the Blessing Box on the porch of the old store that’s filled with items for folks in need, it’s all part of helping others, she said.
“I feel like God put us here on this earth to help other people. I really do. He gave us each one a purpose, because the Bible says he did,” she says. “In Jeremiah, actually — 29:11. He said he has a plan for each one of us. So, my plan and your plan is to be kind to other people and to help them.”
As I walked away once again and headed out on the curvy, scenic stretch of road, I thought about how all of these points come together. Even though the town is tiny, it retains a sense of something great — community, and that you’re somewhere. Not just anywhere, but somewhere with a distinctive spirit.
