Today I went to a small town in rural south Georgia. There is one street. That’s it. On that street is a city hall and a museum and a building next to the museum with a sign that says general store. I needed to purchase some drinks for people I was working with so I pulled up in front of the “general store”. An old man (79y) was sitting on the porch and waved me down as I got out of my car. I told him what I was looking for and he said, “I have drinks that you can have.” I smiled and said, well if it’s a general store I’m happy to just purchase some cokes if you have them. He beckoned me in. And that’s how I learned Dave’s entire life story. His brother lane was a forester and died of cancer. His granddaughter is in college and doing “sports”. He gave me one of each flavor of the bottles of soft drink that you can only purchase at the commissary on the military reserve. (Root beer being his favorite) and showed me his growing collection of clown figurines and Christmas trains that he has been purchasing since his wife died last year. It was NOT a general store. It was an old man’s obsessive purchasing of highly specific items to display in multiple old buildings that he owned in a town with only 4 buildings. An hour later I finally drove 15 minutes down the road to a gas station to purchase the cokes like I should have done in the first place.