Well said, Mark.

I have said many times that if I were ever stranded on an island and I could only eat one food for the rest of my days, it would be a Big A Burger from Arnold's. Now for those of you who are not from Richlands, NC, this may not mean a whole lot to you ... but for generations of natives from this little town of Perfect Water, it means everything.

It means first dates, and first kisses … its means an after-school brawl in the parking lot … it means a kid on a summer’s day scrapping 23 dimes together so he can go get a Big A Special which at that time cost $2.30. It meant some sort of independence or sense-there-of for that same little boy because his mom would let him walk there alone.

I grew up about 200 yards from Arnold’s. When I was a wee-little fella it was Tastee-Freeze. It is my first memory of soft-serve ice cream, and what it meant to spend time with your family when all three kids were being rewarded for good behavior.

When I could scrape up enough money, I would shoot out of my parents’ front door, run across Mrs. Brenda Taylor’s yard, under the low-hanging trees in Mrs. King’s yard, across Foy Street and into the lot in front of Dr. Meece’s … There was a big ditch (or at least it seemed big) that you had to jump over into the front of Mobley’s Mobile home lot, across the front of First Fruit’s store front and into Arnold’s. I’ve walked it a million times. At least.

Walking took about 3 minutes. Running? Ninety seconds. On my bike? I could be there in 20 seconds. Just depended on if I had enough money for a hot apple pie, or whatever the extra motivation it was that day.

Since those times, I have traveled all over this world. I have eaten in some of the finest restaurants money can buy. And tasted things that were delicacies and mouth-watering and downright delectable … I am here to tell you my friend, nothing will EVER top a Big A Burger.

But there is one key to a Big A, and no disrespect to all of those that have prepared a Big A that I could not wait to devour … but no one made them like Roger. Nobody. There is something in the way he steamed the bun just right and knew the perfect amount of sauce to put on it … As a 7-year-old or a 41-year-old, if I walked through those doors and saw Roger Mobley cooking, I gave myself a motionless-high five and a little “YES!” under my breath.

But there were also times when I bypassed Arnold’s. Sometimes my mother would need something from the Pig. I would walk right past Arnold’s, right in front, inches from the door and look inside to see those people eating, or those in the drive thru that was added years later, and think, “you lucky dogs.” I LOVED Arnold’s. But even when it wasn’t my destination, it was always a part of the journey. My journey.

There was also the time I asked for a bike for Christmas. I went with my mother to John Rand’s Western Auto and picked out this sweet 20-inch number that I wanted so bad … well, for those of you who know me, I was a tall kid and about this time I was hitting my spurt, so my mom wanted to get me a 26-inch. So we asked Mr. John if he could get that exact same bike in 26-inches. He said he could, I was excited, all was well.

Christmas morning came that year, and in my living room sat this 26-inch dirt bike that looked nothing like the one I had picked out at the Western Auto. I moaned, and frowned. My dad asked didn’t I like the bike? I said “it’s not what I wanted.” My dad said, “No problem. If you do not appreciate the bike your mother got for you, then you don’t ride it. When Mr. John opens up after the holidays, you can WALK it back to the store and return it yourself.”

And I did.

10-years-old and I walked that bike down Hwy. 258, past Arnold’s and right to the Western Auto and returned it myself. I never got another new bike, but that is ok. I learned a lesson in appreciating what is given to you … and I have ridden that further than I could have ever ridden that bike.

So why do I tell you this? Because everyone in Richlands knows Arnold took his family to Florida during the holidays, every year. When I walked the bike to the Western Auto, and when I walked back past it empty-handed on the way home, all I could think of is that I wish Arnold’s was open, because that is the only thing in this world that would have made it OK, and made me smile again.

Arnold’s was a corner stone. If you couldn’t play for the Toot-And-Tell-It sponsored Little League Team, you wanted to play for Tastee-Freeze, and later Arnold’s. Because if you won, you got to eat there for FREE!!! I am not lying when I tell you that landing on the Worrell’s Exterminating Little League Team was one of the worst days of my life. I wanted free burgers. And I wanted them from Arnold’s.

It was the location of all local happenings. Town Hall sessions should have been held there. If you needed local information, you could get it at Arnold’s. If you needed to post a flier, they would let you. It was the center of our universe. It was the linchpin of our known-world. It was the trading-post, farmer’s market, movie theatre and mall all wrapped into one … because we had none of those things. We had Arnold’s.

I could share a million memories with you about Arnold’s. Like the time I had to get a shot at the doctor and afterward my mom took me to Arnold’s. Or the time I got in trouble for cussing at Randy Robinson’s house … I felt so remorseful and was so tearful, you got it, mom took me to Arnold’s. When my first serious girlfriend and I broke up? Yep, Arnold’s. When we buried my Granny … we all went to eat at Arnold’s afterward. I could go on forever, and so could you …

Arnold’s was home. It was the first place I stopped whenever I came back to Richlands. I once drove home from college and got two Big A’s, a large onion ring and a sweet tea … ate them and went right back to school and never even told my parents I was there. And mind you, they live 200 yards away.

We all watched Nola’s kids grow up. When Arnold passed, we were all breathless and fearful that the place would close … it didn’t … because it had a life of its own. But even the most revered life, the most decorated of soldiers and the tastiest of burgers and fried chicken eventually come to an end …

I know the Big A was a knock-off of the Big Mac. But I have never eaten a Big Mac. A Big Mac just didn’t compare. And when the doors close on Richlands Blvd Sunday, nothing else you ever build in that town, or any other meal I will ever eat will ever compare with Arnold’s.

The skyline of that sleepy little town will never be the same … The Arnold’s sign lit everything from there to my parents’ house … those lights won’t be there to help us find our way home any more. Then, again … without Arnold’s, is it worth finding?

- John Mark Riggs, Richlands native