A Beautifully Worn Tapestry of Small-Town Romance and Enduring Hope
There are songs that capture a moment, and then there are songs that capture an entire lifetime. “Love at the Five and Dime” falls squarely into the latter category, a shimmering, tender narrative penned by the late, great Texas troubadour Nanci Griffith. Although Griffith’s own version, found on her Grammy-nominated 1986 album, The Last of the True Believers, is cherished by folk aficionados for its raw, storytelling intimacy, it was her dear friend, country artist Kathy Mattea, who delivered the definitive chart performance. Mattea’s beautiful cover, released in April 1986 on her album, Walk the Way the Wind Blows, became a bona fide country smash, soaring to an impressive No. 3 on the Billboard Hot Country Singles chart. This was the breakthrough hit that introduced Griffith’s unparalleled narrative gifts to a mass audience, cementing her legacy as a “songwriter’s songwriter.”
The story behind the song is a miniature novel, a three-act play focusing on Rita, “sixteen years, hazel eyes and chestnut hair,” who works behind the counter at the local Woolworth’s, and Eddie, an aspiring steel guitar player and a “sweet romancer.” They find their grand stage in the most ordinary of settings—the aisles of the five and dime store. Griffith’s genius lies in elevating this humble backdrop, turning the scent of popcorn and chewing gum into the perfume of youthful romance. The song’s most iconic, heart-stirring image is of Rita and Eddie slow-dancing amongst the notions and sundries after closing time, singing the simple, universal refrain: “Dance a little closer to me, / Dance a little closer now, / Dance a little closer tonight, / ‘Cause it’s closing time and love’s on sale tonight at this five and dime.”
The meaning of the song deepens significantly beyond the youthful romance. It is a powerful meditation on commitment, compromise, and the quiet heroism of enduring love. The narrative follows Rita and Eddie through the decades: from the vibrant hopes of their youth to the reality of married life—the “children and debts,” the “holes in his jeans,” and the way “Eddie plays the steel guitar and Rita waits tables.” This isn’t a fairy tale ending; it’s a realistic portrait of a long, sometimes hard life together. Yet, the song’s brilliance is that it concludes not with resignation, but with affirmation. The final verse, where Rita still slips a shiny dime into the payphone to call Eddie, just to tell him she misses him, wraps the entire story in a blanket of nostalgic warmth. It is a powerful message for older readers who have navigated the storms of a long marriage: that the profound love found in the small gestures—the after-hours dance, the unexpected phone call—is the true measure of a life well-lived. Nanci Griffith once shared a touching personal connection: the “John” mentioned in earlier versions of the song was, tragically, her high school boyfriend who passed away shortly after their senior prom, a devastating loss that underscored the precious, fleeting nature of the love she captured so beautifully in Rita and Eddie’s enduring story. The song is, ultimately, a beautifully worn tapestry of small-town dreams and enduring hope.