With a photo or a video and a few words you can be connected around the world.

Ah, social media how much it has done for our society. With a photo or a video and a few words, you can connect with friends, family and even fans or followers across the country and around the world. This connectivity, while allowing the world to become more connected, has taken a toll on personal connections.

While my writings may often bring up shadows of the olden days, there are many times that its relevance tries to bring about things that really matter. One of those is personal connection with others.

I could once again go into a long discussion about the days of yore’ but I’ll try to keep it simple and to the point.

The world has never been isolated, everyone depends on someone for something else whether they admit it or not. The difference is that today we are connected to so much that we have lost the ability to cultivate real meaningful relationships with others. We snap a photo take a video and share it our profiles so that the entire world can see a highlight reel of our lives, we don’t let the world see what a mess we are.

We once had to look people in the eye and shake their hand to close a deal,

we went to the bank, talked to a banker at our local branch then wrote a check for our house payment, now, I pay my mortgage online and I’ve never spoken to a real person at that bank. I like the convenience of online shopping and paying my bills, I also appreciate social media for several reasons, I like seeing the people I went to school with and my family are all connected, but the real connection is not on social media, its in the relationship. I read articles on marketing and sales regularly and the prevailing wisdom that every one of them says is to build relationships with customers. Certainly they promote this relationship building through social media and email campaigns which of course is only a means to get customers in the door, so that you can start building relationships with them, find out what they like, when their birthday is and so on.

This connectivity however, doesn’t make a business know you personally,

It means they have all the information they need to try and sell you something. You give up this information willingly, sort of, every time you search the internet, your device grabs that information and is used to make sure that things you’re interested in get in front of you. Facebook does the same thing, they ask you if you want to see more or less posts like you are seeing on occasion. When you sign up for a newsletter on a website that you visited, you land on their email list and they try to ask questions on the signup form to figure out what they could send you that might catch your eye and convince you to spend your hard earned money with them.

Social Media hasn’t been my friend.

Being in the firearms industry, retail sales is mostly what we do and in the past we had a public facebook page, in the beginning we didn’t have any problems. We took every precaution to stay on the narrow path of following “community guidelines” but as our audience grew, so did facebook train their ever watchful eyes upon us, when they finally pulled the plug on our public page with around two thousand followers we couldn’t post anything at all, even as we would bend over backwards to stay within the guidelines.

We found it necessary about this time to start collecting our own email list. We invite you to join our email list, we try not to overdo it and you can unsubscribe at any time. We send a few a year and will usually use them to promote a Guns For Great Causes fundraising event, but we’ll put out some new product alerts now and then.

We hope you find our content useful and educational maybe even thought provoking in some areas.

Mission Statement

At Labascus Armory, we are committed to providing our community with exceptional firearms services, promoting responsible ownership, and fostering a passion for outdoor sports. By specializing in personalized service, safety education, and quality firearms, including Henry USA products, we aim to be a trusted partner for enthusiasts and professionals alike. Rooted in small-town values, we proudly support local initiatives and actively promote wildlife conservation through managing food plots and habitats on our land.

As time has progressed, the once closely spaced country stores have become scattered, some fading into obscurity.

In the sprawling tapestry of rural America, the humble country store emerges as more than a mere purveyor of goods. Once the lifeblood of small communities, these establishments transcended their commercial role to become vibrant hubs, shaping the very fabric of local life.

Political Arenas and Community Connections

These country stores doubled as political forums, where the exchange of handshakes and candid conversations between politicians and constituents was a common scene. In these intimate spaces, leaders connected with the pulse of the community, fostering direct and personal relationships often absent in larger political arenas. Beyond politics, the stores facilitated vital connections within the community, acting as a meeting ground where residents caught up on news, shared stories, and built camaraderie.

Economic Catalysts and Job Markets

Amid the shelves stocked with essentials, country stores played an essential role in the local economy. Farmers seeking labor for critical tasks found willing hands among employment seekers gathered at the store. The proprietor, akin to a community job broker, kept mental notes of those in search of work and those offering labor. This informal job market not only fueled economic transactions but also contributed to the interconnectedness of the community.

Information Hubs in a Pre-Communicative Era

In times when modern communication means were scarce, country stores became information hubs. Before telephones and cell phones became household staples, residents relied on these stores for essential information. Whether seeking a phone number or a place to make a call, the local store was the go-to destination. The storekeeper, a repository of local knowledge, served as a vital source of information, connecting residents in an era when communication was more localized and personal.

Changing Landscapes and Forgotten Charms

As time has progressed, the once closely spaced country stores have become scattered, some fading into obscurity. Distributors, essential to their sustenance, now make fewer trips, or cease servicing altogether, favoring the convenience of larger retail outlets. The changing retail dynamics, however, cannot erase the resilient spirit of some country stores that persist against the odds, maintaining an almost forgotten way of life.

Resilient Remnants: Guardians of a Bygone Era

In the vast stretches where these stores still persist, they serve as living artifacts, embodying a nostalgic charm that resonates with those who appreciate the simplicity and connectedness of the past. Despite the increased miles between them and diminished distributor visits, these resilient establishments defy the march of time, acting as anchors for the communities they continue to serve. As guardians of a bygone era, they remind us of the invaluable role small stores played in shaping the character and cohesion of rural America. In a world driven by modern conveniences, these surviving country stores stand as echoes of a time when the creaking floorboards and lively conversations within their walls defined the rhythm of rural life.

Chad Davenport

When people think about the men who make their living from the land, they often overlook what that truly means. These men—farmers, loggers, miners, fishermen—are not just working a job; they are putting their lives on the line every day. Their work is grueling and filled with risk, yet they carry on, driven by necessity and a love for what they do.

These men are up before dawn and return home long after sunset. Their families worry constantly while they are away, but they understand that life must go on. The fields need tending, the forests need harvesting, the earth’s minerals must be mined, and the seas must be fished. This is how they survive, and this is how they provide for others. But behind every one of these men is someone who waits, someone who fears that each farewell could be their last.

I wrote this some time ago and had been reluctant to share it, but I believe the words in it may resonate with a lot of people.

Farmers spend long, solitary hours in their fields, often working miles away from any form of help. The fishermen sail into the unpredictable seas, far beyond the sight of land, where the ocean itself is an ever-present danger. Miners descend into the dark depths of the earth, taking steps deeper into a world that could betray them at any moment. And loggers—those who cut timber from the rugged landscapes—work in some of the most dangerous conditions imaginable, with massive trees and heavy equipment that leave no margin for error.

Their bond goes beyond just work

The men who work the land are often family working alongside family—father and son, uncle and nephew, grandfather and grandson. They spend long days together in the fields or the forests, working as a tightly-knit unit for years. Their bond goes beyond just work. After their day is done, they return to the woods or fields—not for rest, but to hunt deer or whatever game is in season. They cut firewood, feed the livestock, and continue their tasks long into the night. This is more than just a job—it is a way of life, a rhythm of labor and tradition that defines their days.

But when tragedy strikes, it does so in an instant, whether it brings death or leaves someone crippled. Many times, it is a family member who finds the victim—a father discovering his son, a brother rushing to a fallen uncle. And then comes the hardest part: telling the rest of the family. Someone has to make that call, to tell a mother, a wife, a child that their loved one won’t be coming home—or if they do, they’ll be forever changed. It is a burden almost too heavy to bear, yet it is one these families know could come any day.

It is not always a dramatic accident in the woods or the depths of the ocean. Sometimes, the danger comes quietly, on an ordinary day. One winter morning, a man went out to feed his cattle. The snow had fallen heavily, blanketing everything in white. As he moved between the troughs, he slipped on the icy ground and was injured. Alone, in the biting cold, he somehow managed to crawl to his truck. With sheer determination, he pulled himself into the cab and drove, battered and in pain, until he reached his son. His son rushed him to the hospital, where he would spend nearly a week undergoing several surgeries. He couldn’t walk for months, unable to work for five long months. The snow, the ice—these are elements the men of the land face daily, elements that can turn on them in an instant.

Their resilience is rooted not only in their connection to the land but also in their unwavering sense of community. When tragedy strikes, the community comes together, especially in this region, where people understand that no one can face such hardships alone. Churches will often collect special offerings, keeping a steady stream of necessities flowing to the affected family. Local businesses step up as well, organizing raffles to raise funds or making direct donations. Even the local volunteer fire departments get involved, helping with whatever they can—whether it’s gathering supplies, coordinating fundraising efforts, or just being there to support the family.

It’s in these moments of collective action that the true spirit of the community shines. Neighbors, friends, and even strangers unite, offering their time, money, and labor to help ease the burden of those who have lost so much. They all know that they cannot undo what has happened or bring back what has been lost, but they want the family to know they are not alone, that someone cares deeply about them. There is an unspoken understanding here that they must look out for each other because they all know the risks. The land gives, but it also takes away, and they face this truth together. For every man lost or injured, there is a community ready to rally behind the family, to help them endure and carry on.

These men of the land work without applause or recognition. Their labor sustains us, but the risks they take, the lives they lead, often go unnoticed. Behind each man is a family who hopes that today will not bring bad news—who understand the land is beautiful but also unforgiving. Each morning, they watch their loved ones leave, knowing that it could be the last time, yet they continue on. They do their own work, often dangerous in its own way, and they pray for the safe return of those they love.

Life continues for these people—they go to work again, they carry on with their days, and they remember what they have lost. They know that this tragedy wasn’t the first, perhaps not even the first in their own family, and they also know that it will happen again. There is no way to prepare for it, no way to predict it, and perhaps worst of all, no way to truly prevent it. They rise each day with the knowledge that danger is a constant shadow over their lives, but also with a determination to keep going, to live fully in spite of it.

a constant, delicate dance with danger, with love and resilience intertwined.

This is the way of life in this part of the country: a constant, delicate dance with danger, with love and resilience intertwined. There is a quiet courage in this—the kind that is not celebrated but simply lived. The men of the land, and their families, face these risks head-on, not because they are fearless, but because this is the life they have chosen, and they believe in it with all their hearts. It is a life that demands much but gives back something beyond measure: a connection to the earth, a bond between family and community, and a deep, enduring pride in the work of their hands.