THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, August 6, 1995 TAG: 9508060035
SECTION: LOCAL PAGE: B1 EDITION: NORTH CAROLINA
SOURCE: PAUL SOUTH
LENGTH: Medium: 79 lines
Around 7:30, as the sun begins its golden assault on the soybean fields and shimmering waters of south Currituck County, the Jarvisburg Junction General Store is hopping.
The parking lot is filling up with pickup trucks, Grand Cherokees and Chryslers. Tourists headed north and south to relax, and farmers looking for a quick cup of coffee and some conversation before taking on the day's toil, talk to one another over heaping plates of bacon, eggs, biscuits and hash browns.
``Hey, how you doing?'' A woman in her early 40s says to a tall man in work clothes and a baseball hat. ``You workin' hard or hardly workin'?''
``Too hot to work hard,'' he says. They smile and go on to their breakfast.
At another table several men are talking about everything from athlete's foot to the blaze near Elizabeth City the day before.
``I've had it for nearly two weeks,'' the athlete's foot sufferer says. ``I got that stuff that John Madden says will put the fire out, and the fire's still burning.''
At another table, you can only catch snippets of conversation between two women. They're swapping stories about fishing, and bears, and grandchildren.
Nearby, a table with a large cloth checkerboard and large plastic checkers waits for two competitors. But there are no takers this morning.
But even without the jumps and crowns of hotly contested checkers, this is just the way the VanCuren family likes it. The Jarvisburg General Store is one of a vanishing breed of places that sell everything from motor oil to magic markers, suspenders to soda.
Mike VanCuren runs the store with his parents, Al and Faye. For many years, the family owned the Ship's Wheel Restaurant in Kill Devil Hills.
``This is the focal point of Jarvisburg,'' VanCuren said. ``We're the biggest place between Powell's Point and Grandy. We hear a lot. But whether all of it is fact is uncertain.''
It doesn't matter much if the stories are accurate to the VanCurens. Just as long as folks come in, sit for a while, and buy a little something, that's all that matters.
``We have a lot of repeat business,'' VanCuren says. ``It's kind of hard to get them (to stop) in, because we're only 16 miles from the beach. If people are heading toward the Outer Banks, they don't want to stop. But if we can get them in once, they come back.''
A half-century ago, the Jarvisburg store was the only place to buy groceries in the area. Mega-chains and convenience stores were not even a thought.
``I've had a lot of the older folks tell me they used to come in here to buy groceries. We've tried to keep it as much that way as we can. We don't want this to be a place where people run in and run out. We want people to stay for a while.''
Winters are another story. When duck season comes to Currituck, the store opens at 5 a.m. instead of its usual 6.
``The hunters come here every year from Maryland and Virginia,'' VanCuren says. ``We really try to cater to them. There's not a whole lot of traffic up here in the winter time. We want to take care of them.''
Around 8:30, the crowd is still steady, but beginning to thin out some. VanCuren is already starting to think about lunchtime.
``We have people who come here from all over for our cheeseburgers. It's not as big a crowd as at breakfast, but people still come.''
Heading north to Virginia, there is an occasional general store like the one in Jarvisburg, where you can get cheese and crackers and a cold drink, and a little friendly conversation. Sadly, those reference points of the rural past are becoming fewer and farther between.
Every town should have a place like the Jarvisburg General Store, where frying burgers and fishing lures exist in gentle harmony with hunting hats and ham and eggs. And where farmers and tourists, and hunters and grandmothers can sit down to talk the talk of friends, and listen with a caring ear.
For most, this little town may just be a road sign on the way to somewhere more glamorous, where a blink means you've missed it.
But any community that has a place where kindness thrives is more than a place to be bypassed. It is a place to be treasured. by CNB