9 Things Georgians Could Find at Mom and Pop Shops in the 1960s

If you grew up in the 1960s, you remember what it was like to stroll into the corner store with a couple of coins jingling in your pocket and the smell of fresh bread or pipe tobacco in the air.

Mom and pop shops were more than just places to grab what you needed—they were the heartbeat of the neighborhood.

Folks behind the counter knew your name, asked about your family, and maybe slipped you a treat when your parents weren’t looking.

These are some of the things mom and pop shops had from the practical to the magical, all tucked into shelves that felt like home.

Glass Bottles of Soda with Real Sugar

Remember that satisfying clink of a glass soda bottle hitting the counter?

Nothing hit the spot on a summer afternoon like a cold Coke or Orange Crush straight from the chest cooler. You’d dig through the icy water, your arm half-numb, just to pull out your favorite.

Then you’d pop the cap off with the wall-mounted opener and take that first fizzy sip like you’d earned it.

The flavor wasn’t anything like today’s stuff—it was crisp, sweet, and made with real sugar. That first gulp would sting your nose in the best way.

Maybe you sat outside on the stoop, bottle in one hand, the world in the other. If you were lucky, the shop had Nehi Grape or something local that nobody outside your town had ever heard of.

And of course, you brought the bottle back. Not just to save the deposit, but because that’s what you did.

There was a rhythm to it—drink, return, repeat. Even the clatter of empty bottles being collected in a crate behind the counter had a kind of charm to it.

Penny Candy Galore

Kids today have no idea what a nickel could get you back then. You’d march into the store with a handful of change and spend fifteen minutes agonizing over your candy choices.

Glass jars lined the counter, each one stuffed with something different—licorice whips, wax bottles, root beer barrels, Mary Janes, and those little flying saucers filled with sour powder.

The shopkeeper might have been Mrs. Kelly or old Mr. Grady, and they always seemed to know who liked what. “Back for more Pixy Stix?” they’d say with a wink.

You’d hold out your hand, and they’d count out the pieces, sometimes tossing in an extra if they liked you—or liked your mom.

And the little brown paper bag?

That bag was gold. You’d crinkle it in your hand, sneaking a bite before you even made it home. That first bite of a banana taffy or a caramel bull’s-eye felt like heaven.

Handmade Goods from Locals

Back then, it wasn’t unusual to see a store shelf filled with things that didn’t come from a factory. You’d find hand-knitted potholders, crocheted doilies, jars of chow-chow or apple butter, and wooden toys made by someone right down the street.

Each piece had a little handwritten tag—“Made by Mrs. Dobbins,” or “Earl’s Birdhouses—$1.25.”

You didn’t think twice about buying something homemade. It was part of the charm.

If you needed a last-minute gift, you grabbed a jar of pickled beets or a pair of hand-sewn baby booties. And you knew exactly who made it, too—because they probably lived two blocks over.

There was something heartwarming about it all. Each item had a little soul in it. These weren’t just products—they were pieces of your community.

Comic Books on a Spinning Rack

Just about every mom and pop shop had that famous squeaky metal spinner rack loaded with comic books.

You remember it—red frame, pockets stuffed with Batman, Superman, Archie, Casper the Friendly Ghost. You’d give it a whirl and listen to the satisfying squeak as each row slid into view.

For a dime or fifteen cents, you could grab a new adventure and escape into another world. And you’d read it cover to cover—maybe twice—then fold it under your arm or trade it with a friend after school.

Some shop owners even let you bring in your old comics for credit, which made the whole thing feel like a secret club.

That comic rack was more than just fun—it was freedom. Whether you were into superheroes, funny animals, or teen drama, there was something for everyone.

You didn’t need batteries, Wi-Fi, or a charger. All you needed was a quiet spot and a little imagination.

Shoelaces, Safety Pins, and Other Forgotten Necessities

Mom and pop stores always had that one dusty corner or pegboard wall where you could find life’s little fixes.

Broken shoelace? They had it.

Lost a button? Grab a sewing kit.

Need a nail, lightbulb, or a roll of electrical tape? Right there next to the dish soap and shaving cream.

Back then, people didn’t throw things out so easily. You patched socks, glued broken toys, and tightened up loose chair legs. And you knew your local store would have just the thing to help you do it.

You didn’t have to drive across town or wait for shipping—you just popped down the street.

There was a sort of comfort in knowing those little odds and ends were always within reach. Even the creaky wooden floor near the hardware section seemed to say, “We’ve got you covered.”

Fresh Bread and Milk Delivered That Morning

Before chain grocery stores took over, your corner shop had fresh bread and milk delivered daily.

You’d swing open the screen door and be greeted with the warm, sweet smell of just-baked loaves wrapped in paper sleeves. The milk came in thick glass bottles, the kind with cardboard caps you had to pop off with a butter knife.

The bread usually came from a nearby bakery, still soft and warm, and sometimes the shopkeeper would slice it for you with that big whirring machine behind the counter.

The milk had cream that floated right to the top, and if you didn’t shake it, your cereal got an extra surprise.

It wasn’t fancy—but it was real. Real food, real people, and real connections.

You’d grab your staples, maybe a newspaper, and catch up on who got married or who broke their leg slipping on ice. It was shopping, sure—but it felt more like visiting family.

Wooden Toys and Whirligigs

You remember those toys—the kind that didn’t need batteries, just a good imagination and a sturdy pair of hands.

Wooden tops, yo-yos, slingshots, and pull toys with little animals that bounced or waddled as you walked. Sometimes the shop would have whirligigs hanging out front, spinning in the breeze like tiny wind-powered machines.

These weren’t made in factories overseas. A lot of the time, they were made by someone local, maybe a retired handyman or a grandpa who liked carving in his garage.

You’d see them stacked in an old wooden crate or hanging from the ceiling like decorations.

And they lasted.

You could drop one down the stairs, leave it outside in the rain, and it still worked just fine. No flashing lights, no sound effects—just good, honest fun.

Greeting Cards You’d Never Find in Big Stores

Need a card for a birthday, an anniversary, or just to say hi? Your local mom and pop shop had the good ones—the ones with funny jokes, old-fashioned drawings, or sweet little poems.

Some were made by small companies, some looked like someone’s aunt had typed them up and printed them out at home.

They were tucked into a wire rack or set neatly into wooden slots, each one a little different. You’d flip through them slowly, reading each one, and find just the right message. Not too sappy, not too stiff—just right.

There was something warm about giving or getting one of those cards.

You knew someone had picked it out by hand, maybe even written a note that wasn’t rushed. It was simple, yes—but it mattered.

Local Newspapers and Community Bulletins

Every mom and pop shop had a stack of local papers by the door.

Not just the big city dailies—but the real ones, the ones that told you who won the high school football game, who was running for town council, and whose tomatoes won a ribbon at the fair.

Right next to the papers was usually a corkboard full of thumbtacked notes. Lost dogs, piano lessons, babysitting services, bake sales, church potlucks—you name it, it was there.

That bulletin board was like a town square, and you couldn’t walk by it without reading something.

It was how you kept up with local news. Before smartphones and social media, that was the feed of the 1960s.

It wasn’t always neat or fancy, but it was real life, right there in thumbtacks and ballpoint pen.