• The history of Crooked Oak meeting place.
  • The history of Crooked Oak meeting place.
  • The history of Crooked Oak meeting place.

About Crooked Oak

Memories are a funny thing at times. I have many precious memories from my life. Most are those of older years. But there is one that has always stayed with me from my very young years.

When I was five years old I have the vivid memory of a day when my dad took me to the store in his old 31 Model A Ford coupe. My Pa told me to get in the car. I climbed up on the running board on the drivers side and stood up in the passengers seat. No child seats in those days.

We chugged along down the old country road on a bright sunny day. I can still hear the tires rolling over the gravel as we whizzed along at a crisp 35 mph.
For some reason I remember this trip but really don't recollect any before. I do remember a time or two staying in the car while my Pa would pump gas into the car. I still remember that smell of the gas coming in through the windshield that my Pa always kept slightly cracked open. This trip I didn't stay in the Model A. My Pa opened the door and told me to come on out with him. I followed him up the porch to the screen door and walked though as my Pa held it open for me.

My little eyes were going every which way. There was pretty colors of all kinds. One particular shelf caught my fancy. It was just covered with all these pretty papers with pretty writing on them. I tugged on my Pa's hand for attention and asked him what was in all those pretty papers. My Pa told me I didn't need to know what was in those papers and he said I'll tell you later in the car.

I was told to go out and get in the car and wait. With one last look I turned and pushed open the old squeaky screen door slowly sauntering up to the model A. Sometime later my Pa came out of the store. I watched him as he walked around the front of the Model A. He opened his door then looked over and handed me a half full RC cola. He said "you want to know what's in those pretty papers in the store?"

I vigorously nodded my head yes. Then my Pa handed my a small sack. I looked in the sack and withdrew this beautiful white, blue, and red wrapped package.
"Open it up Son." Well I tore off one end and I really was not to happy with what I saw. My Pa said, "Go ahead son, take a bite. It's a baby Ruth."

Well it sure looked more like something my dog snowball did in the yard. I wasn't falling for it. My Pa takes the Baby Ruth then bites the end off. "See he says, It's candy Son and it's really good !" I figured if my Pa would eat it then maybe there's something to this making candy look like snowballs daily business. I slowly took the bar and took a very tiny bite. Holy Moly ! It was better than my morning honey buttered biscuit!

Later, I did ask my Pa why they make it look like Snowball's business. Well I don't think I ever heard my Pa laugh that hard. After he quit laughing so hard he said, "Is that why you didn't want to eat it?" I just looked up at him nodding in the affirmative while chewing a big bite of Baby Ruth.

Now what's all this have to do with Crooked Oak? Well, because of that memory I built a replica of that store. With the help and knowledge of my brother and family we got it done in three years. I have named my little replica store after that very store where my Pa took me for my very first candy bar.

So if you ever have the chance please come by and visit Crooked Oak. I think you will enjoy the step back in time.

Hershal Byrd