Forget the rural-urban divide, college allegiances, or barbecue preferences, what splits North Carolinians into warring tribal camps has long been our tastes in carbonated sucrose. We have the mainstream, Coke versus Pepsi, divide, but two other soft drinks in North Carolina also have fervent followings: Cheerwine and Sundrop. The former was invented in North Carolina, in Salisbury, and the latter has been adopted as a native son, or native soda, and is certainly the soda of choice here in the foothills region. Some locals proselytize more than others. For instance, one farmer here often buys his temporary employees Sundrop. “When you buy Sundrop, excellent,” said a worker, who was from Mexico. “When I buy Sundrop, so-so.”
One thing that is somewhat confusing about the south is that coke can be both a specific and generic term. It could very well refer to a Coca-Cola, or it could refer to any Coca-Cola like alternative like Pepsi, or it could refer to any caffeinated and carbonated sugary beverage, like Sundrop or Cheerwine or Mountain Dew. Most likely, if someone tells you that they want a coke, they either want a Coca-Cola or, if that is not available, a Pepsi. But, if someone asks if you want a coke, they are likely using it in the general sense of any soft drink. If you respond “yes,” they will likely respond, “What kind?”
My wife’s grandpa, who died last year at the age of eighty four, always used the term dope as a generic term for soft drink. “Let me get a dope,” he would tell the waitress. The waitress, likely being born in a different millenia, would just smile nervously at him, as if he was senile. “He means a coke,” I would translate.
“Oh, ok, what kind?” she would ask, relieved.
“A Sundrop, if you have it,” he would say.
Apparently, dope was once the customary term for soft drink in western North Carolina. That usage, however, is becoming archaic, as evidenced by those puzzled looks on waitresses’ faces, and due to the fact that the people who used the term are dying off. My wife’s grandpa had an extra refrigerator in his utility room that he kept stocked with 2-liter bottles of Sundrop. He called it his “dope refrigerator.” He didn’t drink alcohol, but by golly he had a dope refrigerator, and he faithfully imbibed Sundrop till the day his very last days. Possibly, his heavy consumption of Sundrop over the years hastened his demise due to kidney failure. His doctor told him to “go easy on the stuff” but as far as I know that’s all he ever drank.
Before he died, my wife’s grandpa basically weaned our son, his great-grandson, on Sundrop. Thomas would toddle next door to visit, clamber up on a bar stool, and gulp down “tasty drink,” as he still calls it to this day. I’m not sure what the generic term for soft drink is in heaven, but hopefully some sort of tasty drink springs eternal there. Back here on earth, where time is limited, it’s likely less about what you drink or what you call it, but more about the time spent with the folks sipping dopes or cokes or tasty drinks. In his latter years, that’s something my wife’s grandpa seemed to know well–life is too short not to sit down and have a Sundrop with someone, even if it’s against the doctor’s orders.
