Rock Camp, WV
I use the name of name Rock Camp so much because it has a special resonance for me. Though I grew up in Massachusetts, I spent a lot of time with my family on our farm and General Store in Rock Camp, West Virginia. If you visit our fine state today you will see on the highway large welcoming signs that read “Open for Business!” which is a new phenomenon and always brings a tear to my eye. Only a year or two ago the welcome sign read “Wild and Wonderful!” which speaks much more directly to the essence of the place that I’ve come to be so fond of.
My mother lived alone on the farm, which produced nothing other than a small garden. She lived in a small farmhouse about a mile up a dirt road from my grandmother and just another short mile from her general store. The store is cute, not particularly well kept, but has a very sincere charm about it. On of the windows on the front of the store still reads “Dry Goods and Notions.”
Sixty years before, the store was a notorious hub for lumberjacks, farmers, and bootleggers. Even today the place resonates with a sense of community that runs deeper than I could ever explain. It’s a place where people live their lives together, for better or worse. It is a place where people look out for each other, most of the time. It is a place where everyone has a part.
Written on the store wall, in the back near the pool tables is the scribbled out statement: “Rock Camp – It’s not just a store, it’s a way of life.“ On the adjacent wall is a grand mural depicting many of the store regulars, my mother perfectly centered in a straight jacket, and me off in the corner climbing through the wall. This is the briefest description of what has shaped me, a glimpse into the world from which I have grown.
