January 2015Priceless

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who’s who

PublisherDelores Blount

Sales & Marketing DirectorSusan Bryant

EditorLeslie Moore

Account ExecutivesAmanda Kennedy-Colie

Erica SchneiderGay Stackhouse

Art DirectorTaylor Nelson

Photography DirectorPatrick Sullivan

Graphic ArtistsStephanie Holman

Scott Konradt

AccountingRonald Pacetti

Administrative &Creative Coordinator

Celia Wester

Executive PublishersJim Creel

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PO Box 1389Murrells Inlet, SC 29576

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Sasee is published monthly and distributed free along the Grand Strand. For subscription info, visit see page 36. Letters to the editor are welcome, but could be edited for length. Submissions of articles and art are welcome. Visit our website for details on submission. Sasee is a Strand Media Group, Inc. publication.

Copyright © 2015. All rights reserved. Reproduction of any material, in part or in whole, prepared byStrand Media Group, Inc. and appearing within thispublication is strictly prohibited. Title “Sasee” isregistered with the U.S. Patent & Trademark Office.

January2014

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23 28 32FeaturedSleeping in the Daybed by Sally Gosen Case . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8The Evolution of Womanhood by Susan DeBow . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10Living on the Edge by Rose Ann Sinay. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 18Southern Snaps by Leslie Moore. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 22The Finer Things in Life by Kim Seeley. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 24A Party of One by Diane Stark . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 26What Will You Never Purge? by Janey Womeldorf . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 29Carrots by Janice MacRae . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 30Monkey Business by Diane DeVaughn Stokes. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 33Notes for Newcomers: Gullah Culture & Customs by Phil La Borie. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 34Sasee Kids . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 35

In This IssueGiving Time: Cheryl Bell, Freedom Readers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 12Read It!. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 14Lighten the Scales Time: Regina Young, Pounds Away of Myrtle Beach . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 16Style Time: Celia Shields, Celia’s Hair Works. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 28Sharing the Arts: Leslie Ayers, Cultural Council of Georgetown County . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 32January Calendar . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 38

Volume 14, Issue 1

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Cover Artistby Jurij Frey

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As an only child, growing up I spent a lot of time alone; much of it in the branches of a towering sweet gum tree with a book. The branches were twisted near the middle of the tree, my favorite place, and made a perfect seat from which I would pretend I was in a submarine one day or maybe an airplane the next. I never remember being bored or lonely, even though I did play with the other kids in the neighborhood sometimes and enjoyed that too. Nothing changed too much as I grew older, and I’ve always attributed my love of solitude to my childhood, but I’ve found there are many others like me, from families of all sizes. A lot of us are writ-ers – read Diane Stark’s essay this month and you’ll get the idea. These days I don’t climb trees very often (like never), but I do walk or run outside alone or find a quiet spot inside to read or meditate. And no matter how much time I spend by myself, I’m rarely, if ever, lonely. Time with the people I love is wonderful, and I know I wouldn’t want to be a complete hermit, but my peace is found in “me time.”

What is your favorite “me time” activity? This month you’ll meet several members of our community who give their own answer to that question. I am also very excited for you all to read our January “Southern Snaps” interview with Laura Herriott, who operates a guest house, Wilma’s Cottage, on Sandy Island. I hope some of you are able to visit Laura and enjoy her quaint cottage in the coming months. It’s a perfect place for some quality “me time!”

letter fromthe editor

Love what you’re reading?Have suggestions?Let us know!

readers’ comments

Pen & Brush

Writing, by Jurij Frey

Jurij (Yuri) Frey lives in Böblingen near Stuttgart, Germany, and works in a realistic style. He is inspired by people in the modern world and by the contrast of their wants and desires. He paints the people in surroundings familiar to them, using large, almost rough brush stokes. Yuri tries to catch the ease and rapidity of the moment with intense light and finds his motifs in his beautiful city, filled with history, incredible architecture and tradition. His fascination with life around him gives the artist momentum for his daily paintings. To see more of Yuri’s work, visit his Art Blog, www.jurijfrey.blogspot.de, or his Etsy store by searching Frey Gallery.

RE: “Giving Back, Getting Back,” by Jeffery CohenYou grab the reader’s attention with the first question regarding the or-naments for the tree…Then, as the story progresses, you elicit empathy. Baby boomers nod as you describe the loneliness of missing parents, long distance kids, and now grandkids who are voices on the phone rather than present in the flesh. Yet, you and your wife come up with a solution which saves the day and helps others, in keeping with the spirit of the holiday. Your apt details make the scenes come alive. I see you have won many awards, and I under-stand why: You tell an emotional story without being maudlin or clichéd.

– Erika RE: “Christmas Shopping, Part II,” by Rose Ann SinayAs always I can picture the scene, and identify with it ’till you walked out the door for more shopping! A wonderful and thoughtful idea, hope it catches on.

– ColleenRE: “The BIG Box,” by Joan LeottaI can remember when I coveted those BIG boxes, now the smallest ones are the most exciting! Great essay.

– Rose AnnRE: “Table for One,” by Linda DeMers HummelLinda, it is amazing how we grow once find our “release.” Table for one, in-deed. I enjoyed your story.

– Linda

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Many other things have changed. So much can happen in nine years. I’ve learned to swim. I’ve climbed mountains. I started college. I now know how to jack up a sagging house and how to wire a 20-amp circuit.

He always said that I should sell my handmade jewelry. He always thought that I could write well. How sad, how strange that I tried both, and suc-ceeded, after he was gone. It had never occurred to me that anyone else would want to wear my art or read my words. He was my ever-present audience. It took the final closing of his forest-colored eyes to prod me into offering myself to others.

I wonder if he would have shared my love for dubstep. I am pulled in by the sudden dissonance, the seemingly random interjections, the unexpected sweetness. It is like life. He was born with music in his bones. He knew a too-strange life in too few years. He would understand.

It was a tiny thing. Microscopic, in fact: One single cell, one infinitesimal mutation that started a craze of sorts. A silent invasion that took control of our col-lective destinies before he even noticed the first symptom.

Time dragged us into the depths of the disease. Nights became frenzied. Even if he slept, his body fought. I would find myself perched on the very edge of our bare queen-sized mattress, the sheets long since pulled off and the blankets snarled away somewhere else. At times I had no choice but to leave his side and creep out to our old futon sofa in the living room. I dragged into work so depleted and worn that someone finally bought me a fat new futon. It was hard and cold.

After they took his body away, I slept alone in our queen-sized bed. For nine years, I spent every night where he had left me, right on the edge. That is just how I sleep now.

Nine years is not a momentous anniversary of any event, it just happens to be the length of time it took me to notice that I was still using the same edge of the now-quite-worn mattress. It was an ugly bed to begin with, large and plain and bought because he had found it comfortable many years before. It was not com-fortable now.

I had a problem. I didn’t need a queen bed. I didn’t even really need a twin bed; I can sleep on the edge of anything. But there is something so final about buying a single bed. Not that I had even had one date in that nine years; somehow a large bed just suggests…possibility. Hope. Future. Someone may love me again, someday.

But I had discovered my own future doing things I had never thought possible. And so, as I began my tenth year of widowhood, I started shopping for my very own bed. I knew I wanted something very plain. Minimalist. Sleek. Modern. I am a person who would attend a garden party in a stark black sheath dress. My father has said that my dream house would have stainless steel walls and a concrete floor with a drain in the middle.

After a good deal of shopping, I somehow ended up with an unlikely, but perfect, bed: a daybed, curlicued, lacy and white. The thing looks like a wedding cake with a mattress. Piled high with fluff and pillows, it is a little girl’s dream. I am nearly six feet tall and have passed the half-century mark, but somehow this mass of shining filigree reached out and grabbed my solitary little minimalist’s heart. Somehow, something inside of me required it. I know this part of me; it’s what drove me, during a short escape from that bedside, to buy every pair of pink shoes I could find. An antidote, perhaps, for that terrible long season when everything was grey and antiseptic and wrapped in bandages.

This is MY bed, a bed for the deep girly part of me, the part that only he could see. Gone is the stark bed, the plain, good-enough and don’t-need-more. This is whimsical, irresponsible, over-the-top fluffy indulgence. It says, not only do I sleep alone, I sleep well. This is my choice, and I am happy here. I have found my place, and I am not sure I even want to find room for someone else right now.

I still wear the stark black sheath. I still strap on my pack and head into the mountains. But now, when I come home, there is a soft and welcoming place that is just for me. It is the nighttime nest of a woman who has, at last, found her peaceful, solitary place in the world.

Sleeping in the Daybedby Sally Gosen Case

A lot has changed. My five-minute makeup now takes ten minutes; there are just so many issues to be addressed. My hair was once a stick-straight flaxen sheet that hung to my waist. Now it spills lightly around my shoulders in a fluff of waves, the result, I’m told, of “all that grey.”

Voice

Sally Gosen CaseSally Gosen Case lives and writes on the beautiful Oregon coast. Her poetry and nonfiction have appeared in a variety of magazines, including Horticulture, Mary Jane’s Farm, and The Storyteller. Sally and her son coauthor an Oregon travel blog, casingoregon.com.

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Being the talented person I am, I stepped out of it and lifted it up behind me with my right foot, grabbed it and said, “Hum, wonder where that came from.” Luckily, the seller was intent on showing me her begonias so she didn’t seem to notice me discreetly put it in my purse.

I listed the house. It was overpriced and didn’t sell.Such is real estate.I was looking at a website that I browse frequently called Everything But the

House, and noticed a lot of 18th century women’s gloves and a lot of slips for sale.That got me to thinking about my slip that had a mind of its own and the

many different apparatus I have worn in my life, all attempts to adapt to what the law of society told me I should be doing at that time.

Take garter belts. Today, garter belts are worn to get someone hot and bothered. But in the day, garter belts were worn to hold up our nylon stockings, except the stockings were usually synthetic something or other that snagged or “ran” if I looked at them wrong. The garter belt tried to make the stockings stay up, and the hose wanted to follow gravity and work their way down my legs. I some-times wore them under my panties so that they wouldn’t end up at my knees.

Another contraption that I am sure caused many women to want to die and come back as a man was the lovely belt used to hold up sanitary napkins. As if cramps and bleeding weren’t enough to make a girl wince and to take to bed the entire length of the menses, this apparatus was a poor attempt to make a pad stay where it should be. Invariably, the pad would creep up my back, usually on my way to chemistry class, where I would then sit, nervously hoping there wouldn’t be a red stain on the back of my skirt when I stood.

I recently read that a woman who lived in the 4th century threw her used menstrual rags at a suitor in an attempt to discourage him. I’d say that probably worked.

And, at least the pads I wore weren’t made of wood chips, which is what they used in earlier times. I will never look at mulch the same way.

Then came panty hose. Although panty hose got us away from garter belts, they weren’t a panacea. They, too, were ruined easily by a bad cuticle. Sometimes I would wear hose with a run and feign like it had just occurred. Some

of my sister’s and my worst moments were trying to find un-run hose for church. We stomped around the house with less than Godly thoughts. Pre-church swear-ing was followed by prayers of contrition.

Fortunately, tampons replaced sanitary pads, and then all we had to do was not forget to take them out and keep our fingernails trimmed so we wouldn’t need stitches from searching for the string that removed the tampon.

I guess we should all be grateful they didn’t make tampons with wood chips.

We also experienced the joy of “The Girdle.” Even though I had no stom-ach, I wore a girdle. Girdles were fine if they were loose enough to allow you to breathe, but if they were tight, look out. I had “issues.” If I ate while wearing a tight girdle, my digestive tract got the message that my intake should turn into output, soon. Do you know how hard it is to get a tight girdle off quickly while feeling like you are going to explode? And, then, trying to pull that girdle back on while sweat-ing and weak in a bathroom stall while my hose had twisted around down around my ankles…and I was on my period? I was lucky if I got out of that stall in under an hour.

I am thrilled to be past the point where a girdle will make a difference. What’s the point of wearing a girdle to keep my stomach in when the fat will just hang over the top of it and billow like lava flowing down the side of a volcano? Wear a slip? Not me. Nobody has seen between my thighs since the Berlin Wall came down. Garter belts, although not worn on my person anymore, could be used for hanging Christmas cards. And sanitary pads? Nature took care of that.

That leaves the tampon. Although I don’t need those anymore, either, I keep a couple in my purse. In an emergency, I could use them to clean my ears. And, if I find myself in a survival situation, I have heard they make good fire starters.

The Evolution of Womanhoodby Susan DeBow

While talking to the owners of a house I wanted to list, my half-slip fell off. Slipped right down to the ground.

It shouldn’t have surprised me, as the elastic waistband was stretched and loose. Still, I had to decide how to recover the white, lumped garment that lay around my feet like a wreath.

Voice

Susan DeBowSusan is a writer who enjoys selling houses to nice people. She just got a pedicure and has lovely feet.

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Giving TimeCheryl Bell:Freedom ReadersTell us a little about yourself.I’m originally from New York City – the Bronx. I love it there and go back to visit my mother as often as I can. In 1980 I moved to Los Angeles, and after several moves, including Nashville, I set-tled in Atlanta where I lived for 15 years. Six years ago I married the best man ever, Marvin, and we moved to Myrtle Beach. He is a Senior Tech with Comcast Cable.

Most of my career has been in advertising sales, but two years ago I became a licensed realtor. I handle residential and business sales with Sellstate “Group” Realty.

What is your favorite “me time” activity?I love to read (that’s why I got involved with Freedom Readers), and I enjoy movies as well as the occasional “girls” night out. Marvin and I really enjoy travelling. We just returned from an amazing tropical vacation in Bocas del Toro, Panama. We have close friends living there and spent time with them and their brand new set of twins!

Favorite online activity? I like Facebook, even though I don’t post a lot. It’s fun to read what other people are doing and, really, there are a lot of positive and interesting things out there. I also read the news on two or three different sites.

How do you stay fit?Unless it’s raining or foggy, I ride my Raleigh 10 speed bike for at least five miles every morning – I love seeing the sunrise. Biking has been a part of my life since I was very young. As a teenager, I would ride through Central Park, and on the weekends I would ride down Wall Street – it’s desert-ed on Saturday and Sunday.

Tell us about Freedom Readers and the upcoming Books & Boogie event.Freedom Readers, a 501 (c) (3) non-profit, was started four and a half years ago by Dr. Tracy Bailey, and its mission is to improve reading skills in children from low wealth communities by providing one-on-one literacy tutoring, free books and an inspiring, high energy learning environ-ment at no cost to the children or their parents. Currently we have eight locations in Horry and Georgetown Counties serving 20 children each, ages kindergarten through fifth grade.

I became involved when I attended a MLK breakfast a little over two years ago where Dr. Bailey was being awarded a grant. I met her and soon became a volunteer. Now I serve on the Board of Directors. I worked with one little girl for two years, and at first, she was very timid and afraid, but soon was speaking in front of the class. The children (we call them Young Scholars) come once a week after school; we give them a snack, do a group activity and then each child works one-on-one with a tutor. As they leave, each is given a free book to add to their home library.

Freedom Readers is supported by grants, donations and our two annual fundraisers. January 26th is this year’s date for our Books & Boogie event at Dead Dog Saloon in Murrells Inlet. There will be book signings by local authors, live music and a wonderful buffet meal. Tickets are $35 and include an entry for some amazing door prizes, including a vacation package for two with airfare and hotel. We’ll also have a 50/50 raffle.

It’s going to be a fun event – come join us!

For more information about Freedom Readers, visit www.freedomreaders.org or call 404-455-1864. Tickets for Books & Boogie are available at Dead Dog Salon, Sellstate “Group” Realty and Signature

Custom Signs. You may also buy tickets at the door the day of the event.12

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Life is Short, So Read this Fast! is the second in the three book series written by well known, local writer Ann Ipock. They are a collection of her newspaper articles and other writings. This particular title covers topics from fun women groups, bare necessities and family memories to hilarious stories of married life. Also included are chapters dedicated to food, shopping and growing pains that females experience.

Ann Ipock has written the ideal book for the busy woman. The short chapters are perfect for squeezing in reading dur-ing even the most hectic of schedules. Chocked full of southern flair and quick wit, readers will be kept on their toes as they are taken on a ride through life. Despite the fact that most chapters are humorous, the writer shows a deeper

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side by sharing her emotions and fears as well. Overall, this book is a fast, fun read and one that people will savor and cherish for a long time.

In this day and age we all seem to be constantly connected with little free time. Everyone is rushing here and there; scheduling this and that, while the dream of propping up one’s feet to unwind for the afternoon is being pushed even farther away. When I saw the title of this book, I hoped it would be perfect for people in search of some quality alone time. As I started to read the entertaining commentary on everyday life, I craved more! This book made me laugh out loud on numerous occasions, along with caus-ing me to mentally check off items on the list to see if I qualify to be a fabulous FROU group member. Ann Ipock’s book is an uplifting read, and I highly recommend that every home has a copy available for all to enjoy!

Nicole McManusNicole McManus loves to read, to the point that she is sure she was born with a book in her hands. She writes book reviews in the hopes of helping others find the magic found through reading. Contact her at

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Lighten the Scales TimeRegina Young: Pounds Away of Myrtle BeachTell us a little about yourself.My husband, Bob, and I are originally from West Virginia where we’ve operated Pounds Away of West Virginia, which is a physician supervised weight loss program, for the past twelve years. Several years ago we were on our way to Florida for a much need-ed vacation and decided to stop here and visit Bob’s brother. Well, we loved it so much we ended up staying for the entire time! On the way home, we talked about buying a second home here and soon we had a house in Surfside Beach. We travel back and forth every couple of weeks between our two homes and businesses. I am now official-ly a resident of South Carolina!

Bob and I are animal lovers – at one time we had twelve rescued dogs! Now we only have five. [laughing] I also have a wonderful horse named Socks, a Tennessee Walker, and I am crazy about her. We moved her here so she could enjoy the milder winters and get outdoors more. I go see her every day. We also have two turtles that are 43 years old.

I worked for a doctor in West Virginia who owned a weight loss program like ours, and he had offices in West Virginia, Indiana and Kentucky. He eventually sold his business to his son, and we bought it from him. That was twelve years ago. We opened Pounds Away of Myrtle Beach three years ago.

What is your favorite “me time” activity?Probably riding Socks and walking my dogs. We live near the beach in Surfside, and I walk them each individually every day.

Favorite online activity? I do like Facebook and use it to keep up with family and friends.

Tell us about Pounds Away of Myrtle Beach, a Physician Supervised Weight Loss Program.We are a medically supervised program that uses medication to help suppress your appetite and lose weight. There are no membership fees, and patients are free to start and stop anytime they please. A new patient comes in and is assessed by a nurse and our physician and can start the medication the same day. The doctor explains how the medication works and makes sure you are healthy enough to take it. Patients come in once a month for an assessment with our physician and medication refills. If someone comes in and is assessed, but then decides they don’t want to start right away, there is no charge. We are very laid back and never want people to feel they have to do anything they don’t want to do. This is not a magic potion. It helps a lot, but weight loss also requires a lifestyle change.

I think it’s important for people, especially women, to realize that their perfect weight might not be what others think it should be. When you get to a place where you’re healthy and feel good, that’s enough. We also have a maintenance program to help patients keep the weight off once they’ve reached that goal weight.

Contact Regina and Bob at Pounds Away of Myrtle Beach, a physician-supervised weight loss program, at 843-215-7262 or find them online at www.poundsawayofmb.com. Their

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“Oh sure, that’s something that we could do.” I laughed, picturing the U.S. Olympic volleyball team in their skimpy spandex suits jumping in the air, spiking the ball over the nylon net. Most everyone we knew was 55 and older. Some of us sported newly replaced knee and hip joints, or nursed suspicious shoulder twinges. When my husband didn’t laugh, I wondered what there was about the limitations of fake body parts that he didn’t get.

“It’s beach volley ball,” he said, reading my mind. “If you fall, you land on sand not a hard court. Just try it.”

Maybe I was too careful…maybe a little heart pumping, body stretching exercise was just what I needed. How could I say no? My refurbished knees began to ache.

I’ve never been much of an athlete. In grade school, I was never a first pick for Red Rover or dodge ball. In junior high, I was one of the benchwarmers for the girls’ P.E. basketball team. At less than five feet tall, I could guard no one and making a basket was a pipe dream.

Needless to say, I was no speed demon on the softball diamond, and the bat and ball rarely connected. I was so short I probably would’ve been walked every inning, if I hadn’t been so hellfire bent on trying to hit that ball.

When my own children were old enough to play organized games, I wanted to be involved. I attended our town’s Parks and Recreation meetings, watched the mandated sports league videos and became a coach for my children’s team. I could direct with the best of them. I showed my soccer team (made up of six-year olds) how to throw the ball on to the field. I demonstrated the corner kick and how to head the ball, all without ever having actually played the game. For the first time, I felt like a jock…well…sort of.

My kids moved on to higher planes of athleticism: high school gymnas-tics, soccer and track. My questionable expertise was no longer needed. I didn’t want to lose my pseudo-physical momentum, so I bought a pair of Nike running shoes. I tried jogging to the end of my street – to the stop sign – a whole half mile. The “Just do it” slogan just didn’t do it for me.

And now, after all this time, I was going to learn a new sport and play it, too. We assembled a team and met at the net late in the afternoon. We brought our collapsible canvas chairs, just in case listening to the waves and watching the sunset might be a better use of our energy.

We mapped out the boundary lines with a yellow rope and started our first game. After ten volley attempts, we realized we needed to make up our own rules.

1. Unlimited hits: Hit it once, hit it twice, three times – just get the damn ball over to the other side.

2. Didn’t get the serve over the net? Do it again, and it can be helped over by another player on the same team.

3. Keeping the ball in the air is more important than how many points are scored.

4. Have fun.We’ve been playing beach volleyball for the past three years. Team

members change by the week and nobody sighs when I run (walk) on to their side of the net. Our more agile players feel air between their feet and the sand when they jump. I have not yet experienced that feeling. They take diggers in the sand on a regular basis and pop up, unscathed (they are the ones who still have their original parts).

The first time I fell, I stayed down for the count, waiting for the pain, imagining the ambulance screaming down the beach, red lights flashing, to take me away. And then I realized that there was no pain – just the awkward move-ments of getting myself back to an upright position.

Our rules have changed as we have improved. We now have only one attempt at the serve, although it can still be “helped” by a team member. And we can no longer juggle the ball more than three times per person. The ball sails back and forth over the net. Our moves may not be pretty, but contributing to that ball staying airborne is a great feeling.

We have invested in team shirts: Bright pink for the ladies and baby blue for the guys. No feminist remarks, please. It works for us. We even have a fancy logo embroidered on our uniform – Living on the Edge, it says.

And so we are.

Living on the Edgeby Rose Ann Sinay

“We should get a bunch of people together and play some volleyball,” my husband said as we walked by the volleyball net on Ocean Isle Beach. My husband and I enjoy walking on the beach late in the afternoon, after all the sun worshippers have gone home, and we noticed that the volleyball area was never being used at this time of day. He kicked the sturdy poles like he was checking a tire, and surveyed the ample playing area.

Voice

Rose Ann SinayRose Ann Sinay is a freelance writer typing away in sunny North Carolina. Her articles/stories have been published in The Carolinas Today, The Oddville Press and The Brunswick Beacon.

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Laura Herriott:Heritage & Hope Wilma’s Cottage, Sandy Island

by Leslie Moore

Tucked between the Great Pee Dee and Waccamaw Rivers lies Sandy Island, a 9,000 acre island named for the prehistoric sand dunes that comprise much of this wildlife refuge and small community. Through a joint effort of the island’s residents, the Coastal Conservation League and SCDOT, the large unde-veloped portion now belongs to the Nature Conservancy and the people of South Carolina. It is the largest freshwater island on the East Coast and certainly one of the most beautiful. The island is also the home of many rare plants and animals, most notably the endangered Red-cockaded Woodpecker.

Currently, about 100 people live on this peaceful island, most the direct descendants of enslaved Africans brought to Georgetown County to work on the

areas’ rice plantations. Accessible only by boat, a trip to this unspoiled area almost feels like a trip back in time. Sasee was able to visit Sandy Island with one of its life-long residents, Laura Herriott, and learn more about this secluded paradise. Laura owns and operates Wilma’s Cottage, a charming 1950s-era guest house tucked among the towering long leaf pines and live oaks.

Sandy Island Landing is located just south of Brookgreen Gardens, on the Waccamaw River, and is used by residents who travel back and forth from the mainland. We were met at the landing by Laura and her nephew who graciously piloted us across the tidal waters of the river to one of the two public boat landings used by residents. It is also where the island’s children meet the school bus after travelling across the river on the state’s only school boat, the Prince Washington, named for the community founder’s great-grandson. During the short ride, I asked Laura about the history of her home. “My family has always lived on Sandy Island,” she said. “But, I never really knew much about how we got here. I think people just didn’t want to talk about the past.”

Residents keep four wheel drive vehicles on the island for transporta-tion, and after we arrived, Laura took us to Wilma’s Cottage in her Jeep. The roads are unpaved and sandy, but she drove with confidence and ease. When I asked Laura about the cottage’s name, she explained. “This cottage belonged to my grandparents, and I opened the guest house to help preserve it and give people a place to come and visit the island. Their names were William and Mary Collins, and I combined their names for the cottage.” Laura’s grandparents built the home in the early 1950s. “My grandfather was a WWII veteran and went blind while

22

they were building this house. It never slowed him down though.”

Spotlessly clean and filled with quaint furnishings and antiques, Wilma’s Cottage has five guest rooms; four with double beds

and one single bed room. Currently there is only one bathroom, but

Laura has plans to install another one soon. Guests have the house to themselves, as Laura’s home is a short distance away. Guests may either bring their own food and prepare it in the fully equipped kitchen, or Laura will cook for them and bring it ready to eat whenever they like. Some guests only come for the day, enjoying Laura’s delicious southern cooking, walking the island with Laura as their guide, and learning about this special place. “I had a group of birdwatchers visit recently, and they walked a lot,” Laura laughed. “I got plenty of exercise that day!” Next month, a group of 5th graders from a local school are visiting this island, and Laura will serve as tour guide and prepare the students’ lunch. For guests without their own boat, Laura provides transportation and can accommo-date most any size group.

When asked about her childhood on the island, Laura painted an idyllic picture. “I was one of nine children, and back then there were more people living here. We played baseball, swam, jumped rope and as teenagers would play music and have parties. It was lots of fun.” Modern conveniences were slow to come to the island. There was no electricity until 1965, and Laura remembers using oil lamps and her elders cooking on wood stoves. One of her grandmother’s original oil lamps still sits on a bedside table in Wilma’s Cottage. Today, residents have access to the same services as those on the mainland. Laura laughed and told us, “Recently, one of my guests said her cell phone worked better here than it did at home!”

Laura attended the tiny island school through 6th grade and graduated from Howard High School in Georgetown in 1971. Originally built by Archer Huntington, founder of Brookgreen Gardens, the structure is no longer used as a school; the building now serves as a community center for residents. After receiv-ing her degree in data technology, Laura worked first at Wal-Mart, then Grand Strand Hospital and Blue Cross/Blue Shield. Today, she has several part-time jobs and is always busy. In addition to running Wilma’s Cottage, Laura sells Mary Kay Cosmetics and works part time on her cousin’s farm. She is also custodian of her church, New Bethel Baptist, located on the island. I asked Laura how many people attended each Sunday and was surprised to learn that between 75 and 100 worshippers gather each week. “We have a boat that brings people from the mainland; most are people who used to live here,” she said.

This fiercely independent woman raised her three children on Sandy Island as well. Manatha Young, Laura’s daughter, lives in Charlotte and works for Duke Energy, as well as serving as a minster in her church. Her son, Craven Funderburke, also lives in Charlotte and works for FedEx. Both are married with children. Her son Calvin

Funderburke, who works at Blue Cross/Blue Shield, lives on the island and has two children.

After seeing the cottage, Laura took us on a tour in her Jeep, and we were able to see how large an area Sandy Island covers. Public nature trails through the undeveloped areas have been put in place by the Nature Conservancy and anyone may use them. A modern fire department is manned by volunteers, all of whom have alarms installed in their homes to alert them when an emergency occurs. There is a small store on the waterfront and the old school has a playground area with modern equipment for the island’s children. The

homes are modest and well kept, many of them occupied by generations of families. “The prop-erty on Sandy Island is mostly heir’s proper-ty,” Laura told us. “Families move away, but they keep up the tax payments and can return anytime they like.” Laura went on to tell us that over the past few years, quite a few residents who had moved away from South Carolina years ago for college and better jobs have come back home to Sandy Island. “They have family here. All of us are related in some way, plus there is a lot of love and support throughout this community.”

Laura became less animated as she told us about her struggles to main-tain Wilma’s Cottage. Repairs are expensive, and she’s had to get creative to make ends meet. Her immediate need is a new roof, and she is raffling off a hand-knitted bedspread and a dinner for eight at Wilma’s Cottage to help meet this expense. Opening her grandparents’ home gives Laura a way to share the beauty of Sandy

Island with visitors and preserve an impor-tant part of the island’s history – it is her passion. “This is the perfect get away. It’s quiet and surrounded by nature.”

For more information about Wilma’s Cottage or Laura’s raffle, call 843-237-9252.

Tours of the island are available through Tours de Sandy Island, operated by island res-

ident, Rommy Pyatt, and include lunch prepared by Laura. For tour reservations,

call 843-408-7187.

Southern Snaps

Opening her grandparents’ home gives

Laura a way to sharethe beauty of Sandy Island with visitors…

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After about three weeks on the road, we reached the Great Lakes, which several of us had never seen. Due to an extremely foggy morning, our view was quite limited. From that point on, my diary entries became shorter. We enjoyed lunch in Ohio in an Amish restaurant and remarked on how much our husbands would enjoy the scenic farm views.

However, we drove through the mountains of West Virginia and our home state of Virginia without the rapture and excitement we had experienced in the Rockies and the Grand Tetons. We were tired, it is true, and we were road weary. We missed our husbands and families, and we were all in tears as our trip came to an end. We sang, “Hey, It’s Good to Be Back Home Again,” as we approached our last stretch of highway, as best we could, between tears and out-right sobs. We were reunited with our husbands and families, and our lives quickly returned to normal.

But in all honesty, our tears were not just tears of joy at being home; they were tears of sadness, too. We knew we had experienced a once-in-a-lifetime adventure, four middle-aged (ahem) ladies, embarking on a grand quest. And frankly my dears, after Yellowstone and Yosemite, the flat farmland of Virginia, which we all four call home, seemed dull, and yes, boring. There were no canyons, no sweeping vistas, no altitude signs or open range warning signs. Home seemed rather drab.

So it rather surprised me to be talking to one of my fellow road warriors the other day, and we both were in utter awe of our surroundings in our home-town. It is autumn in this agricultural community, and our forests are alive in a vivid palette of orange, red and gold, before the last gasp of November winds drives the leaves away. The cotton fields are a vivid, fluffy vista of pillow-like white-ness against the blue sky. The red and green combines and tractors are busy now, churning away as the area farmers attempt to beat the clock of the cold and rain that is certain to come.

The soybeans have had their heyday just recently, with their leaves turn-ing burnished yellow, sometimes spreading out into fields of gold as far as one can see. The corn is gone now, but it, too, brought a particular beauty. My friend, who is our local sweet corn maven, shared pictures this summer of the bright green

stalks of corn with little “creatures of the corn” hidden among the ears. She took a special joy in the lizards and small green snakes that called her cornfield home.

Many of my friends share my love of the smell of freshly-dug peanuts. There is something distinctive about the aroma, something natural and earthy, which is even more delightful than the aroma wafting from our local peanut busi-nesses. I also appreciate the few farmers who shock their peanuts, stacking them on long peanut sticks, the old-fashioned way. Shocking peanuts is a simple remind-er of days gone by, and I often wish I were a real photographer when I see them in a small field on the side of the road, drying in the sun.

So what has happened in the seven years since my return from our coun-try’s magnificent Western vistas? Has my little piece of earth changed drastically? No. Have I changed drastically? Perhaps. I have retired and become a grandmother since my cross-country journey. I have aged physically, mentally and emotionally. Most importantly, I have made more of an effort to find and enjoy the beauty of my surroundings, the joy of everyday life.

When I was working full-time, I was not immune to the beautiful colors of autumn or the golden soybean fields. I was simply busier, with more deadlines, more responsibilities and more worries. I now fill my days with my grandchildren, my daughter, my husband, my mother and my friends. I still like to travel, and I do have a few trips left in my bucket list, but I now appreciate the finer things in life. My grandson’s giggle and my granddaughter’s uplifted arms fill my heart in a way no mountain or valley can ever hope to compare. I am able to find beauty in the fields of corn, soybeans, cotton and peanuts that make up most of this community in which I live. The finer things in life are truly all around us. We just need to open our minds and our hearts, along with our eyes, to see them.

The Finer Things in Lifeby Kim Seeley

About seven years ago, I participated in a cross-country road trip with three girlfriends. We packed so much into our journey and saw many national parks and natural and man-made wonders. We “oohed” and “aahed” over the majesty of the Grand Canyon and the sheer grandeur of Yosemite’s El Capitan. We stood in awe of the mystical, almost unearthly volcanic paint pots and geysers, which are native to Yellow-stone. We stared in amazement at the General Sherman, the largest living thing in the world, in Sequoia National Park. We witnessed the result of the human ingenuity and skill which climaxed in Mount Rush-more and admired the imagination and detailed work which created the Corn Palace.

Voice

Kim SeeleyKim Seeley resides in Wakefield, Virginia with her husband Wayne. She is the doting grandmother of Evan and Delaney, who keep her imagination and zest for life intact.

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Margaret, Pirate QueenSteve McMillen

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26

I’ve always thought of myself as an extrovert. I am a born story teller and I love making people laugh. If you asked my friends and family, every one of them would label me as a chatty people person.

But recently, I heard something that made me reevaluate my entire per-sonality. At a writer’s conference in Indianapolis, I took a class called “Writing Realistic Characters.” I’d been writing a romance novel, and I’d been struggling to make my characters more life-like. The class seemed like just the thing.

The teacher handed out the Meyers-Briggs Personality Test and instructed us to take it. The idea was to familiarize ourselves with the test so we could take it on behalf of our characters. As a writer, you’re supposed to know your characters as well as you know your spouse or best friend. If you do, your writing will come alive.

But instead of learning more about my characters’ personalities, I learned something about my own. The first question on the personality test asked if you are an introvert or extrovert. Without a moment’s hesitation, I cir-cled the E for extrovert.

But the class instructor said, “I want you to really think about this ques-tion. Many people think of themselves as extroverts when they are actually quite introverted.”

I tuned her out. Me, an introvert? Me, who frequently walks away from conversations worrying that I talked too much and made things all about me? Me, whose husband once told me that one of his favorite things about our marriage is our 80/20 split? (This means I do 80% of the talking to his 20%. The fact that he counts this as a positive is utterly fabulous in my mind.)

It is also proof positive that I am not an introvert.But the instructor continued, “When determining this, think about what

energizes you. After being by yourself all day, are you anxious to be around other people? Or after you’ve been in a large group of people, do you feel like you need some down time to recover?”

The words “large group of people” and “down time to recover” grabbed my attention. She’d just described me perfectly. My husband is one of eight chil-dren, so family parties are boisterous affairs, which usually take place in our home. I enjoy entertaining, but after everyone leaves, I am exhausted. My favorite way to recharge is to snuggle in bed with a good book.

But that hardly made me an introvert. Right?“Think about your three favorite activities,” the instructor said. “Are these

things you do by yourself or in a small group or are they things you do with a lot of other people?”

My favorite activities? Reading, writing, and spending time with my husband.

“Again, these favorite activities should make you feel energized, not drained,” she reminded us. “Think about your daily routine. When you’re tired or stressed out, what activity appeals to you most?”

Reading a book or writing one of my own stories.“If this activity is a busy one that involves lots of other people, you are an

extrovert, but if your activity is a quiet, solitary pursuit, you are an introvert,” the instructor concluded.

You’ve. Got. To. Be. Kidding. Me.This lady says I’m an introvert. I never shut up, but she thinks I’m an

introvert. I just wasn’t buying it.I love my family and friends, and I am so blessed to have them in my life,

but I also really like being by myself. I enjoy my own company, and I am rarely, if ever, lonely.

“Are you ever lonely or is your own company enough for you?” She asked.Had the woman pitched a tent in my head? How could she know what I’d

been thinking?“The vast majority of writers are introverts,” she continued. “It’s just how

we’re wired.”I couldn’t help myself. I raised my hand and blurted out, “I talk a lot. Like

too much. Everyone who knows me would say I’m an extrovert because I’m outgo-ing and friendly. But your test is telling me I’m an introvert.”

She smiled kindly. “Are you the life of every party you attend?”I shrugged. “I do my share of the talking.”“And how do you feel afterward?”“Honestly? It wears me out.”“And to recharge, you do what?”“Read,” I answered quietly. “Or write.”It was her turn to shrug. “There’s your answer.”I learned a lot at that writer’s conference, but taking that personality test

was the most valuable part. I talk a lot, and I’d always thought that made me an extrovert. But I was an extrovert who craved solitude, and I never understood why. I often left parties and other large gatherings feeling worn out, and I never under-stood why.  People often tell me that I am good listener, and I wondered how that could be.

I’d misunderstood my own personality for my whole life.At the age of 39, I discovered that I am a closet introvert. At first, it really

bothered me. I am not shy, nor am I a loner, and I didn’t want to think of myself that way.

But I’ve come to embrace it. Being an introvert doesn’t mean I don’t love people. It means that I love them so much that I give everything I have when I’m with them, and afterward, I need some “me time” to recharge.

So I read for a while. Or I write something. It refills my empty tank.I love spending time

with my family and friends.But sometimes, I just

need to be a Party of One.Or maybe a Party of

Two. I’ll always invite my hubby.After all, he lets me do

80% of the talking.

A Party of Oneby Diane Stark

Voice

Diane StarkDiane Stark is a wife and mom of five. She loves to write about her family and her faith. Her essays have been published in over 20 Chicken Soup for the Soul books.

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Style TimeCelia Shields: Celia’s Hair WorksTell us a little about yourself.I live in Myrtle Beach, and am originally from Pennsylvania, but my dad’s job required us to move a lot so I’ve lived all over. While I was in high school, at 16, I shadowed my hairdresser for a day, and knew right away that was what I wanted as my career. It wasn’t what my dad had envisioned for me, but now he is very proud of my success. I graduated from one of the best cosmetology schools in the south-east in Gastonia, North Carolina. My first job was assisting in a local salon, and then I went to work at the mall, but soon realized I need-ed more creative freedom. I rented a booth in another shop and enjoyed it, but eight months ago I decided it was time to open my own salon.

Everyone asks me about my tattoos. I love tattoos – they have always intrigued me and are part of my signature look. All of mine are cosmetology-related.

What is your favorite “me time” activity?I live with my boyfriend, and we do a lot of activities with his son – we’re trying to keep him away from the television as much as possi-ble. I also love to paint, even though I don’t consider myself an artist. My mother is a very talented artist, and her works hang in my salon.

Favorite online activity? I guess I would have to say Facebook. It’s a great way to keep in touch with people, and I can market my salon for free. YouTube is fun, too. When we need a laugh we watch cute kitten videos!

How do you stay fit?I do yoga and lift weights. I also stay away from processed foods and sugar as much as possible.

Tell us about Celia’s Hair Works.I opened my shop on July 1st of this year. Each of my clients gets my undivided attention, and I never rush anyone. It takes time to work with people and find out exactly what they want, and a good stylist knows which questions to ask. My goal is for my clients to feel relaxed and pampered while they’re in my salon.

I just love hair. It’s an art, like painting or sculpting, and if you under-stand how hair works, you can do most anything. Usually, I can visu-alize the end result of my work before I even get started.

Celia’s Hair Works is located in The Soho Shops in Market Common at 926 Iris Street, Unit H, and is open from 9 am-5 pm, Tuesday through

Saturday. For an appointment, call 843-945-9891 or visit www.celiashairworks.com.

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Either way, I plan to take no chances this year, so on January 26th, I shall go shopping – nothing lifts your spirit like a new outfit. Of course, I could go to the gym, but the mall’s as good a place as any to get your 10,000 steps in, and at least shopping results are immediate. Another feel-good option could have been to sink my teeth into my favorite food group but a dress lasts longer than a bowl of pasta, and nobody has ever complimented me on my endless bowl.

I have shopped for, and bought, hundreds of items over my 50 years, and it’s amazing the amount of detail I can remember – whether it was on sale, where I bought it, even what I wore it with. Is this natural? I have also seen hundreds of items come and go. Some I’ve regretted, (like the three quarter-sleeve, black, slinky top that was identical to the one I forgot I already owned and hanging in my clos-et); a few I’ve ruined, (don’t eat spaghetti Bolognese wearing anything other than red); but most I’ve purged, (you can only move a button so many times before you have to lose weight or admit defeat). The only survivors are those select few, cher-ished items – I call them the life changers.

I was 42 when I bought my first pair of white pants. Until then, anal prac-ticality superseded fashion – I just knew, the first time I’d wear them, I’d drop food or spill some wine and that would be the end of that. Talk about boring – besides, can you say washing machine? They were linen, from TJ Maxx, and cost me a bar-gain $10. As soon as I put them on, my face lit up, and I knew. I wore them out that night with white, wedged sandals and a paisley, light-colored, flowing blouse, worn outside and loose. I felt like I had just walked off of a Chico’s advertisement. When my husband saw me, his mouth dropped open and all he could say was “Wow.”

I now own five pair of white pants in varying lengths and fabric and no matter what I pair them with, I feel sharp because everything pairs well with white. My original white linens though are still my favorites. I loved them when I bought them, and I love them now.

I have a waist-coat hanging in my closet that I found at an army surplus store in London over two decades ago. It was a one-of-a-kind reversible: Black cor-duroy on one side; cream, black and red plaid on the other. It was the envy of most that saw it, and it was the first time in my life I ever felt stylish. I have never consid-ered myself a fashion guru but that waistcoat made me feel like one. I was 25 then; I am 50 now, and it still hangs in my closet. I will never get rid of it – the emotional attachment is just too great.

I have been blessed to go on several cruises, usually with two formal eve-nings per cruise, plus my husband was prior military so we often attended formal functions. In all that time, I have had dresses that looked “nice” but never stunning – until I found my princess dress. I bought her at a consignment store eight years ago for $12, and all I can say is that it must have pained the woman before me to give her up. She is emerald-green, full-length, slinky, sleeveless and halter-neck, and she fits me like a glove. The first time I wore her, the combination of shimmering emerald and my copper-red hair was hard to miss amongst the sea of black formal gowns. It was the only time in my life I felt like I turned heads; admittedly, it was the gown that turned the heads not me, but I didn’t care. She made me sashay, not walk, and heading out, arm-in-arm with my tuxedo-clad husband, we felt like Fred and Ginger. Once in a girl’s lifetime, every woman deserves to feel like Cinderella. She still hangs in my closet and will grace me once again on an upcoming cruise. No other piece of clothing comes close to how she made me feel, and I will always love her for it.

Throughout these outfits, I have been lighter, heavier, younger and older, but they all made me feel good regardless. Therein lies the magic of shopping – only clothes have the power to do what scales cannot. A close second to my never-to-be-purged, lifetime trio is the collection of clothes in my closet that I call my classics. Most have been with me for over a decade, and although they never changed my life, they are trusted friends who never let me down.

So on January 26th, I will be in a mall, shopping. I may not find another life keeper but at least I won’t be dwelling on debts, weather and depressing stuff. The only thing that might get me down is the extra pounds I still won’t have lost from pigging out over the holidays. One positive thought though is at least, I’ll be getting my 10,000 steps in. And if all else fails, I’ll just wait six months. Why?

The happiest day of 2015 falls in June.

What Will You Never Purge?by Janey Womeldorf

Apparently, the most depressing day of 2015 will be Monday January 26th.“Blue Monday,” as it has been referred to, started back in 2005 when UK psychologist, Dr. Cliff

Arnall, created a formula which concluded that the Monday of the last full week of January was the year’s most depressing day. This was largely due to failed New Year resolutions, bad weather, Christmas debt, post-holiday blues and other downer thoughts like closet stress caused by tight clothes from all the pig-ging out you did over the holidays. (Okay I added that last one.)

Voice

Janey WomeldorfJaney Womeldorf prefers the cone to the ice cream, loves elastic, and spends more than she cares to admit on Starbucks’ lattes. She scribbles away in Orlando, Florida.

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Twelve years later, Kent and the carrot question came to mind when I became a widow in January 2014. Until then, widow had been just a word to me; now it’s my new reality, one that is mine to shape. I soon realized my husband Joe and I also had quite a division of duties. He didn’t know hoot about cooking either, but he could fix or build anything…usually shooing clumsy me out of the way. However, knowing I can’t always rely on others to do Joe’s jobs now, the New Me decided to give it a go.

Two quotes quickly took on special meaning: Honesty is the best policy and Those who allow themselves to be vulnerable walk among mysteries. As an explorer in new territory, I stride into the local hardware store, look ’em in the eye, and declare, “I don’t know anything about (take your pick) plumber’s putty, or shelf brackets, or attaching a toilet seat. But I am teachable. Would you please show me?” The helpful staff has come through every time, unraveling one mystery after another. Like a first-grader learning to read, I’m pumped up about knowing the names and purpose of some items I used to call thingies. And no one could have been more surprised and pleased than me when I managed to unclog two drains within a week. I must admit to excessive bragging.

However, just when I think I’m so clever, a new challenge always comes up to teach humility. The latest was a carbon monoxide alarm that began to shriek every thirty seconds. Suppressing an urge to bolt outside gulping oxygen, I decided it might be wise to read directions before making a neighborhood spectacle of myself. Okay, one earsplitting beep every thirty seconds means install new battery. I

can do that. But after finally getting the back off the unit, I couldn’t figure out how to detach the 9V battery from the wires. The shrieking continued. Being late eve-ning, what else to do but muffle the annoying thing with three towels, stuff it in the spare room overnight, and go to bed in a state of defeat. The next day I was a tad embarrassed as the hardware staff showed me how to remove the battery by pull-ing off two little clamps. Pop, pop, easier than cooking carrots.

Friends cheer me on as I stumble through this learning curve. However, some, like my friend Lilija, are exceptional role models. Having lived on her own for years, she’s undaunted by plumbing, wiring, carpentry and more. She recently offered to lend me her chainsaw for yard work, along with a lesson in using it…as casually as if offering a purse. “Two small women and a chainsaw!” I gasped. Her reply: “Sure, no problem; it’s a small one.”

I think back to Kent and his question. Now over eighty, he still cycles, lives in his own home, and has become a pretty good cook. As for me, it’s early days; I have much to learn. But I’m getting there, one day and one laugh at a time.

Carrotsby Janice MacRae

Kent, the oldest member of my cycling group, was pedaling alongside me during our weekly ride. A quiet man, he’d become more so since his wife, Marie, had died two months earlier. We rode on in comfortable silence for awhile, then he moved a little closer and said, “May I ask you a personal question?” I’d always known him to be a true gentleman, but life on this planet has taught me that humans are full of surprises. “Sure,” I replied, bracing myself. He paused a moment, as if rethinking, then said, “How do you cook carrots?” If we hadn’t been on bikes, I’d have given him a hug. Instead, I filled him in on carrot cuisine, and made a mental note to take him some homemade soup. I later learned he’d asked another woman in the group, “How do you wash the floor?” Kent had obviously been taken care of; it was time for this well-educated scientist to learn basic survival skills.

Voice

Janice MacRaeJanice MacRae is a freelance writer who lives near Victoria, BC, Canada. She finds daily life seldom perfect but always enter-taining. As far as she knows, a good laugh never hurt anyone.

You keepthe ornaments.

Just bring usthe tree.

The Horry County Solid Waste Authority encourages you to take one extra step to make the holidays green and bright – recycle your natural Christmas tree after the season. Simply remove all lights, decorations (including tinsel) and the tree

stand. Then, bring your tree to a designated area to be chipped and recycled into free landscaping mulch. The mulch will be available to all citizens while supplies last. Bring your own container to collect the mulch.

NO WREATHS, PLEASE.

City residents of Myrtle Beach, Conway,Surfside Beach, Loris and Aynor may place

trees on the street curb for pickup.

Myrtle Beach city residents may also visit10th Ave. N behind Myrtle Waves.

City residents of North Myrtle Beach may leave trees curbside January 2-20 or visit these

drop-off locations:

Cherry Grove – Public parking lot at the intersection of Ocean Blvd. and Shorehaven Dr. (near 19th Ave. N.)

Crescent Beach – Parking lot across from the J. Byran Floyd Community Center at 1030 Possom Trot Rd.

Ocean Drive – Public parking lot on the northeast side of Main St. between Ocean Blvd. and Hillside Dr.

Windy Hill – Public parking lot at 38th Ave. S. & Seaview St.

Start making a difference.Recycle this publication.

843.347.1651www.SolidWasteAuthority.orgPROTECTING TOMORROW’S ENVIRONMENT TODAY

DECEMBER 26-JANUARY 27

IN PARTNERSHIP WITH

County residents outside of city limits may visit any of the 24 SWA Recycling & Convenience Centers located throughout the county.

®

Sharing the ArtsLeslie Ayers: Cultural Council of Georgetown CountyTell us a little about yourself.My husband Kevin and I are originally from Michigan. We came here for our second honey-moon and fell in love with the area – so much that while we were here, we bought a house outside of Georgetown! Then, we went home and told our three children we were moving 18 hours away!

All three children live with us. Ashley, 26, and her husband, Devin, have a five month old baby, Andrew is 24 and Adam is 22. Kevin is a pharmacist at Georgetown Hospital. When I first moved here I had my own business, Your Little Makeup Shop in Surfside, but four years ago I sold it.

What is your favorite “me time” activity?I read all the time, and I love theatre. Kevin and I also enjoy going out to dinner with friends.

Favorite online activity?Facebook and email are the only two things I do regularly. It’s fun to keep up with my friends who are spread across the United States.

How do you stay fit?I walk on the beach and in the woods around our home. And, I have a home gym where I work out regularly.

Tell us about the Cultural Council and your new position.I took over as Executive Director after Scott Jacobs moved – I was the board chair. Georgetown County is my adoptive home, and I am passionate about what we are doing – helping our children and adults experience the joy and beauty of the arts.

I grew up with art and some children here have never seen a live performance. In December, we had over 400 children at a dance performance we sponsored at Winyah Auditorium. Some had never seen live dance! The Cultural Council also has an exciting new outreach program. We have a van stocked with art supplies that will travel around to different commu-nities in Georgetown County giving children art lessons. There is already a volunteer art teacher, photography teacher and wood-working teacher.

As a 501 (c) (3) nonprofit, we raise money through grants, donations and fundraisers. Our next big fundraiser is next month, on February 17th. We’re having a Marti Gras celebration in Downtown Georgetown. The festivities begin with a parade at 5:15 pm, and will be fol-lowed by a Marti Gras party. Last year we had nearly 400 people and the event was in the Maritime Museum. This year, we’ll have a large tent and are expecting between 700-800 people. It’s going to be so much fun – we’ll have King cakes with babies, a King and Queen, beads…the whole nine yards.

To find out more about the Cultural Council of Georgetown County or for tickets to the Marti Gras Celebration, visit www.culturalcouncil.info, or call 843-520-0744. The office is located on

Front Street in Downtown Georgetown.

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Nowadays, I do take pride in being a scuba diver with one hundred dives under my belt. It’s a great vacation pastime that might not sound athletic to you, but just standing with that tank on your back takes strength! Sadly, my athletic prowess and competitive spirit wilts in comparison to all my friends. Plain and simple, I have never been athletically inclined. I was the kid in gym class who could not climb the rope or do a chin-up or push-up. I hate going to the gym unlike my two sisters who are possessed about going. So what was I thinking when I recently offered to do a TV interview and demo at Go Ape Ropes and Zip Line course in North Myrtle Beach at the new Park and Sports Complex off highway 31?

Zip lining in Costa Rica five years ago was easy, so I figured this would be much the same. Strap yourself in the harness and push off from the platform, and you’re swinging down a line amidst trees and foliage with the wind blowing through your helmet. Just jump and swing like a monkey. But in North Myrtle Beach, the zip line was a piece of cake, it was the straight up ladder-climbing and holding onto the ropes as you traipse across a moving platform to get to the other side of the field that was a killer. Sheesh. This was tough. Then there was this Tarzan-type swing where I bravely jumped, harness attached of course, into a net and then had to climb to the top of that net to get to the nearest recovery stand. Jane I definitely was not! OMG!

There are times as the producer of a TV show that I get carried away knowing something will make for great TV, but I forget that the host, me, is not as

young as I used to be. I was sweating bullets. My make-up was dripping. My hair was matted down to my head. It just wasn’t pretty. I was a mess and totally exhaust-ed. The best part of the experience was the final zip line across the big park lake, except I crash-landed head first instead of feet first. But hey, I did it! I completed the course. And that is the challenge I guess – pushing oneself to the limit and rel-ishing in the accomplishment, then celebrating it’s over!

If you and your friends are looking for some laughs and some sore mus-cles for at least a week, I highly recommend Go Ape. It would be fun for a family outing. The kids would love it. Just leave grandma and grandpa at home, or ask them to cheer y’all on from the mulched up areas down below. But remind them, the course takes about two hours to complete, or four hours if you are like me. Talk about a difficult editing job for my TV show. My editor is still not talking to me! Who knew monkey business could be sooooooo difficult? I now know!

Monkey Businessby Diane DeVaughn Stokes

Rah! Rah! Rah! Once a cheerleader, always a cheerleader; that’s what they say! Yet, so many times, I have tried to be athletic about something. I actually al-most had a shot at it in high school when I was selected for the volleyball team, but we moved six weeks later and that was the end of my volleyball dreams. I can recall one flag football game at Francis Marion University where I earned star sta-tus because of my ability to run fast when given the ball, but catching it was an-other thing. As an adult, I played a tiny bit of tennis on an adult league back in the seventies, but games started to interfere in my social life. I was a fairly good water skier as I could even slalom, but snow skiing scared the crap out of me. I loved being amidst the snow, but the fear of someone crashing into me kept me tucked inside the clubhouse in front of the cozy fire drinking hot chocolate.

Voice

Diane DeVaughn StokesDiane is President of Stages Video Productions in Myrtle Beach, Host and Producer of “Inside Out” on HTC Channel 4 and Host of “Diane At Six” on EASY Radio.

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Gullah Culture & CustomsI grew up in Webster, New York, on the shore of Lake Ontario.

Irondequoit Bay lay to the West and a centuries-old Seneca Indian trail (now paved over and predictably called Bay Road) was located about a 1/4 mile away from our house. The Trail ran south from the lake to what is now Victor, New York; some 30 miles away. It was a major north/south route for both the Seneca and French fur traders in pre-and Colonial times and I sometimes found various small artifacts from those years (or so I thought) in the woods behind our house. Those little discoveries started me on a lifelong interest in finding out more about native people and their customs.

So, when our esteemed editor Leslie Moore suggested that newcomers to the Grand Strand area might be interested in learning about the Gullah people, who were some of the first inhabitants in our area, I jumped at the chance.

Here’s what I found out*The Gullah people are descendants of enslaved Africans who were

brought to this country to work on the huge rice plantations in the Carolinas dur-ing the 18th and 19th centuries. In fact, 23,773 Africans were transported to South Carolina between 1804-07 alone. They were enslaved and brought here mainly because of their extensive knowledge of growing rice in their native Africa – a prac-tice that had been in place for nearly 3,000 years!

According to Mrs. Zenobia Harper, **, who is herself Gullah and whose ancestors worked on the Arcadia, Hobcaw and Kensington plantations, “The liv-ing conditions during that era were appalling and the work was much more demanding and harder than picking cotton. Since the Gullah are an oral culture, the stories of my ancestors’ hardships and successes have formed an important part of our family history.”

Because of the fear of Malaria and Yellow Fever, which were wide-spread during the rainy spring season, many white plantation owners left the South Carolina Lowcountry at that time of year. The planters often left their African “rice drivers” or overseers in charge of the plantations during their absence. These tem-porary “bosses” oversaw hundreds of laborers in each location and the influx of a nearly continual stream of new workers from Africa helped to shape and reinforce the Gullah people’s culture and beliefs.

Historically, the Gullah region extended from Cape Fear to the area around Jacksonville, Florida. However, today the Gullah area is limited to South Carolina and the Georgia Lowcountry. In South Carolina, the Gullah are mainly concentrated on the Sea Islands. Beaufort is the access point to this marvelous part of the Lowcountry.

Because of their relative isolation in rural areas, the Gullah developed a unique culture that has preserved much of their African heritage. In addition to honoring their ancient roots and customs, they speak an English-based Creole lan-guage that has been influenced by African grammatical and sentence structure.

Here’s just one example:

English: Blessed are the poor in spirit for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.Gullah: Dey bless fa true, dem people wa ain hav no hope een deysef,

cause God da rule oba dem.The Gullah people and their language are also called Geechee, a name

which may have originated from the Ogeechee River near Savannah, Georgia.Gullah recipes are as fascinating as the history of the Gullah people. And

since I like to cook, I decided to try one myself. I have to admit that I avoided some of the more complex and challenging ones like Frogmore Stew (for 30 peo-ple!) and those calling for “raw (cow) field peas” or “a mess of fresh collard greens.”

Instead, I opted for Sweet Potato Pone.BTW: Pone is usually referred to as corn pone and was a staple of the

early American colonies from New England to Virginia. If you don’t already know, Pone is a flattened cake that is baked on a griddle or in an oven. If you’re really adventurous, you might try cooking it in ashes as early Native Americans did. I opted for the oven.

Ingredients:2 large sweet potatoes 2 eggs, beaten1/2 cup sugar 1 teaspoon nutmeg2 tablespoons margarine, melted 1/2 teaspoon salt1 cup dark cane sugarInstructions:Peel and grate sweet potatoes. Add other ingredients and mix thoroughly.

Pour into greased baking dish and cook in slow oven at 300 degrees F. until done, about an hour. Source: Catherine Carr’s recipe in The Legacy of Ibo Landing: Gullah Roots of African American Culture (1998).

I have to say that the Pone turned out mighty fine! Try the recipe yourself.If you’re interested in learning more about the Gullah people, there are

any number of sources available online or in our local libraries. You might also want to pick up Julie Nash’s wonderful novel, Daughters of the Dust. The book trac-es the history of a large and extended Gullah family back to their slave roots.

Also, see Nash’s acclaimed film of the same name. The Surfside Library is trying to obtain a copy for their collection.

That’s all for this edition of Notes for Newcomers, but I’ll be back in future Sasee editions with more features and finds. Meanwhile, if you’d like to leave me any feedback on previous articles or suggested future topics, I’m all ears.

*My thanks to the Beaufort County Library for much of the information included in this article.

**Zenobia is an accomplished doll maker/artist and Program Director of Frameworks: A New Generation of Storytelling; a program designed to help young people explore and express their true inner feelings.

Notes for Newcomers by Phil La Borie

Voice

Phil La BoriePhil is a recent transplant to the Grand Strand; in a former life he was a Connecticut Yankee with a long history as a writer/creative director in the ad biz. He can be reached at plaborie@voxinc.net.

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Have a Dance PartyGet up and move! Put on your child’s favorite song and dance with them. Encourage them to sway and clap in time with the music. Make up new moves to the chorus or certain mel-odies to get them really listening to how a song changes! 

Bring Out the Pots & PansYou can turn craft time into music time and introduce your children to rhythm. Let them bang on pots and pans with wooden spoons, create bongo drums out of old coffee cans or pour rice in a plastic bottle and shake it up! 

Play TogetherIf you know how to play an instru-ment, play for your children. Let them clap or bang a tambourine along with the song. If you don’t know how to play, just sing! Showing your chil-dren you love music will inspire them to love it as well.

Go LiveTake your children to see live music. Many towns and communities offer free live music at various events throughout the year. Check out your local symphony’s upcoming season and make a special date with your

little one.

Kids are naturally drawn to music- whether they’re singing along to their favorite lullaby or bopping up and down to a song on the radio, a familiar melody can brighten up the grumpiest of faces. However, music can be much more than entertainment to children. Learning to read and play music can help children better understand mathematical concepts, learn self discipline, and boost self confidence. Not to mention it’s just plain fun! Here are a few ideas to inspire your little ones to become future maestros:

Sasee Kids

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Angelo’s Steak & Pasta . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15

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The BarreWorx . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 17

Bio-Identical Hormones . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 40

The Boundary House Restaurant . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .7

Brookgreen Gardens . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 36

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CHD Interiors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .3

The Citizens Bank . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .5

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Fabric Décor & More . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13

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Freedom Readers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25

Grady’s Jewelers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13

Heartfelt Calling . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 39

Horry County Solid Waste Authority . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 31

Inlet Medical Associates . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 40

Advertiser Index

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16 16-18 22-24 24

25 26 2/5 2/7

FPC Concert Series, Angela Mead, Soprano, First Presbyterian Church, Myrtle Beach, 1 pm. For more info, call 843-448-4496 or visit www.myrtlebeachpresbyterianchurch.org.

Sandy Islanders: A People of the Land, exhibit at Brookgreen Gardens, free with garden admission. Lecture about the exhibit by Vennie Deas Moore on 1/24 at 1 pm. For more info, call 843-235-6000 or visit www.brookgreen.org.

Good Soil for Successful Gardening, lecture by Amy Dabbs, Clemson University, 10 am, St. Paul’s UMC, Litchfield. For more info, visit Low Country Herb Society at www.lcherbsociety.info.

Swim: An Artist’s Journey, exhibit featuring the work of Charles Williams, The Myrtle Beach Art Museum, For more info, call 843-238-2510 or visit www.myrtlebeachartmuseum.org.

Moveable Feast, Elizabeth Hein discusses How to Climb the Eiffel Tower, 11 am, Inlet Affairs, $25. For more info, call 843-235-9600 or visit www.classatpawleys.com.

Mid-Winter SOS (Society of Shaggers), North Myrtle Beach, various events throughout the area. For more info, call 843-281-2662 or visit www.shagdance.com.

Myrtle Beach Quilt Party and Vendor Extravaganza, Sea Trail Golf Resort & Convention Center, Sunset Beach, NC. For more info, visit www.mbqp.net, call 800-624-6601 or e-mail myrtlebeachquiltparty@gmail.com.

32nd Annual 5K & 15K, 9 am, North Myrtle Beach. For more info, call 843-272-1717 or visit www.grandstrandrunner.com.

Long Bay Symphony, Musical Postcards, 4 pm, Myrtle Beach High School Music & Arts Center, 3302 Robert M. Grissom Pkway. For tickets or more info, call 843-448-8379 or visit www.longbaysymphony.com.

Books and Boogie, Fundraiser for Freedom Readers, 4-9 pm, Dead Dog Saloon, Murrells Inlet. For more info, call 404-455-1864 or visit www.freedomreaders.org.

FPC Concert Series, Sebastian Bäverstam, Cello, First Presbyterian Church, Myrtle Beach, 1 pm. For more info, call 843-448-4496 or visit www.myrtlebeachpresbyterianchurch.org.

5th Annual St. Christopher’s Gala to Benefit the Children of Georgetown County, includes dinner, silent and live auction, live entertainment and more! For tickets and more info, call 843-235-0777 or visit www.stchristopherschildren.org.

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MUSICAL POSTCARDSfeaturing Daria Rabotkina, piano soloistSUNday, jaNUary 25, 2015 • 4:00 pm myrtle Beach High School music & Arts Center

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