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Health & Fitness

The Store

Memories of 'The Store' in the Coombsville area of Napa.

I can see a Norman Rockwell painting every time I think about my childhood in Napa. I can see where we used to play, the waterin' hole, which was really forbidden territory, but to every boy became a challenge, and I can see "The Store."

The real name of "The Store" was Third Avenue Market, on, conveniently enough, Third Avenue, about half way between North Avenue and Coombsville Road. It was one small baselite building,  backed up against a hill. It was operated by the Wallaces, who kind of bcame everyone's Gramma and Grandpa.

In those days, regular customers could "carry accounts" until payday, which was every other Friday. When a family paid off their account, the Wallaces would give them some ice cream. 

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In the mid-1960s the Wallaces, already into their 70s, retired and moved away. "The Store" went through a series of owners, until it was bought by the Burney family. They relocated the business about 150 north and built it into a western facade.

Richard Burney was a carpenter and did most of the work himself. Naomi Burney had grown up in Napa with my mother, Madeline, then Bartlow.  "The Store" became a neighborhood hangout for the kids of the area, including me sometimes. It was less than a mile from our house on Second Avenue, though once in a while we went up over the hill and came out practically at the store itself.

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"The Store" was no different from any other store that dotted American towns. It was the friendly atomsphere and its convenience that kept us coming back. We would still go into town for the twice a month big shop, but for the little, everyday needs of a family of five, it was our destination.

When the Burneys bought the store, their second son Alan would ride his bike home for lunch and bring back goodies. It was quite the little racket, until our school principal put a stop to it.

When we think about memories, there are always one or two incidents that stand out.  One of mine involves "The Store:" On a fall afternoon in 1966, we mounted bicycles to ride over to the store. But, neither my brother or I had bicycles, so I rode on the back of David's bike. It took all of about 15 minutes, if that long. As we approached our destination, I tried to get off the bike, which led to tragic results. 

I tripped, hit my chin solidly on the road, bit my tongue and skinned my chin. By the time we got there, my shirt was soaked with blood and I had a gash on my chin. Naomi Burney, being a mother herself, knew exactly what to do: She stopped the bleeding and then called my father, who raced over in the pickup. 

Thus began one of the worst days of my life... But that's another story.

Tom Ontis is a Napa expatriate now living in East Contra Costa County. He grew up on a ranchette in the Coombsville area, east of Silverado Junior (now Middle) School.

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