Coca-Cola Museum

Coca-Cola Museum 601 Washington St., Corinth, MS (662) 287-1433 I grew up on Coca-Cola. It burned. It seemed to tear my throat up and make my eyes water. It was delicious! Hot, dusty Mississippi summers. We lived on a dirt road. The village, Buena Vista, just a memory now, a ghost town, is gone. But “back when I was a kid” a couple of hundred country folks lived there. Most of ‘em picked cotton. Everybody picked cotton and worked in the fields. It was back breaking work. At the end of the day, folks walked, jumped in the back of a pickup, sat on the back of a farm wagon, or rode a mule down to the store, my grandmother’s store. It was time to cool off, sit on one of the old church pews on the front porch, swap lies, eat some peanuts, and drink an icy cold Coca-Cola. Visiting the Coca-Cola Museum in Corinth, Mississippi brought back a lot of memories. Back in those days, everything was a Coke. “Hey, Billy, you wanna Coke?” “Sure.” “What kind?” “I want a Nehi Orange,” or a Dr. Pepper (at 10, 2, and 4… you gotta be really old to know what I’m talking about), or even a root beer. But it was a Coke to us. Barefooted, I’d cross to the other side of the store, where the icebox was, reach in and slide a Coke down to the front. It was always in a bottle, a thick glass bottle with a cap on it. If I close my eyes, I can still feel that icy cold bottle as I dragged it out of the water, stuck it in the bottle opener and pried off the cap. With any luck, I could pull the cork out of the cap and see if I’d won a prize. With even more luck, that Coca-Cola would be partially frozen and have “ice shivers” in it. My little grimy hand would lift that bottle to my lips and before I could take a sip, the fizz would just jump out of the bottle and tickle my nose. Really, now… there warn’t nuthin’ better than that Coca-Cola. That first sip would burn all the way down and my eyes would water, but it was heaven in a bottle! When we needed money to buy firecrackers or go the fair, we walked up and down the country roads, sometimes as far as Lime Rock Hill and gathered Coke bottles. We’d go to the store and Miss Cornelia, my grandmother, gave us 2 cents a piece for them. We wuz rich! Y’all come on down to Corinth, Mississippi. Visit the Co-Cola Museum. (No, that’s not a spelling error. Every Southerner knows that the proper pronunciation is Co-Cola.) Thank you, Coca-Cola, for giving me a lifetime of fond memories. Click on the website to find out "bottled happiness" found it's way into our hearts.