Zach H. Tucker

New Threads through an Old Store

august 29, 2024

I was helping a friend out the other day, giving him a hand moving something heavy for a remodel he was doing. The house is an old house, over one hundred years old, and I had never been inside. It was interesting, a time capsule of sorts, and I noted the additions over the years after looking over some photos of the original structure. Still, I couldn’t reconcile such age with the modernity of the remodel. And while I understand everything changes despite our willing it to stay the same, I felt the want of something to which I could cling, the pang of the past.

I have felt myself dragging my feet, I have become accustomed to it. I yearn for some glorious past like everyone else, despite the veracity of nostalgia or my own memories. I could be told that a remodeled Historic Renck’s Store will serve as the same kind of nostalgic museum as that old house, that I will be able to taste the turkey and mustard sandwiches and Yoo-hoo upon walking into it. But I know that those memories can only remain something inside my mind, something essential and personal, something that can become a weight or a step. 

I studied that remodel job, noting the care that went into the work, and something resonated inside my soul, something like harmony. The thread between this updated room and the rest of the old house was the fact that someone did the work with the intention of the work lasting. On the surface, the remodel will stand out, but underneath it is the tradition of things lasting because they were built for that specific purpose. I look at the old store and see the same threads running throughout. Sure, things have been shuffled around, updated and optimized for different clientele in a new century, but the tradition of building things to last bolsters this remodeling just as it did when the first stone was laid over one hundred and fifty years ago.

There’s a quote from Helen Keller: “What we have once enjoyed we can never lose. All that we love deeply becomes a part of us.” Admittedly, it can prove challenging to remember that we haven’t lost those things we love, those traditions of building something to last. Sometimes all it takes is giving a buddy a hand to remind ourselves that we’re meant to build those lasting traditions together. I will cherish opening a bottle on the old Coke refrigerator (which will be used in this iteration of Historic Renck’s Store), but more importantly the memory will remind me of the relationships built alongside the memories and the traditions clung to in times good and bad. While buildings are updated and populations change, the traditions we build serve as the foundation for the bright future towards which we advance and the thread between the old house and the remodel. I look forward to the new threads strung at the old store.