March 2011 Priceless www.sasee.com
The
earth is what we all have in common. – Wendell Barry
You spoke.
E i xe M s M rci ed a se ic gic in e
Your friends and family rely on you to be there for them. And for heart and vascular issues, McLeod is there for you. As we celebrate 25 years of excellence in open heart surgery, we’re set to open additional state-of-the-art facilities that will allow for the most efficient and streamlined patient care in our history.
We listened.
With award-winning patient care services and a team of the country’s most skilled and experienced physicians and surgeons, we’re committed to further raising the bar in service excellence at the McLeod Heart & Vascular Institute. It’s all to ensure that we keep pace with the need for more and more happy, healthy hearts.
McLeod Heart & Vascular Institute
Florence, SC 47598-H&V Dr. Leask Sasee.indd 1
www.McLeodCardiac.org 2/7/11 10:23:15 AM
featured articles
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March 2011 Volume 10, Issue 3
who’s who
Ultimate Recycling
Publisher Delores Blount Sales & Marketing Director Susan Bryant Editor Leslie Moore Account Executives Kim Griffin Amanda Kennedy-Colie Erica Schneider Celia Wester Art Director Taylor Nelson Photography Director Patrick Sullivan Graphic Artist Scott Konradt Accounting Bart Buie CPA, P.A. Administrative Assistant Barbara J. Leonard Executive Publishers Jim Creel Bill Hennecy Tom Rogers
by Esther M. Bailey
Green Juice and Downward Dog by Sue Fretwell
The Best Blessings by Diane Stark
Southern Snaps by Connie Barnard
Finding Your Way by Judie Schaal
A Yard Sale to Remember by Susan Shone
The Stirring Spoon by Kim Seeley
Aunt Margaret’s Pearls of Love by Ann Ipock
Hip Hip Hooray! by Susan DeBow
The First Giant Blowout Garage Sale by Felice Prager
PO Box 1389 Murrells Inlet, SC 29576 fax 843-626-6452 • phone 843-626-8911 www.sasee.com • info@sasee.com I n T h is I ssue Local Businesses Give the Gift of Going Green . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8 Read It! . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10 New Life for the Perfect Dress . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 14 Sasee Goes to School . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 24 Faves . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 38 Sasee Gets Candid . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 40 Scoop on the Strand . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 43
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Sasee is published monthly and distributed free along the Grand Strand. For subscription info, see page 42. 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 © 2011. All rights reserved. Reproduction of any material, in part or in whole, prepared by Strand Media Group, Inc. and appearing within this publication is strictly prohibited. Title “Sasee” is registered with the U.S. Patent & Trademark Office.
elegance • comfort • style custom made • window treatments bed coverings • trimmings • fine fabrics
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651-8177
843.235.9646
Auto Accidents Nursing Home Negligence
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Workers’ Compensation Serious Personal Injury
843-361-7549
Main Office 607 Briarwood Drive, Suite 1 Myrtle Beach, SC 29572 Market Common Office 2922 B Howard Avenue Myrtle Beach, SC 29577
Sydney J. Lynn, Esquire
Ian D. Maguire, Esquire
ww w.m aguirelaw firm.c om
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contributing writers Esther M. Bailey writes from Scottsdale, Arizona where she enjoys dining out and hanging out with friends. Her more than 1000 published credits speak of her passion for writing. Connie Barnard traveled the world as a military wife and taught high school and college composition for over 30 years. She has been a regular contributor to Sasee since its first issue in 2002.
letter from the editor In this issue, both “Southern Snaps” and “Sasee Gets Candid” focus on education. Our own Connie Barnard does a wonderful job highlighting the amazing Tracy Bailey, and I gained so much knowledge from my visit with Madeleine Ritchie. Both of these women’s passion for helping our children succeed is an inspiration. There are many dedicated educators in our community helping young people succeed by refusing to give up on them, even when they have given up on themselves. My son was one of those who nearly gave up, and several times his pain reached such a peak I was afraid I was going to lose my precious child. In desperation, I enrolled him in Myrtle Beach High School, and the staff there took my son under their wing. With their support, he graduated and received the help he needed to begin to live his life. On the 10th of this month, I will attend a ceremony for Horry Georgetown Technical College students with a grade point average of 3.75 and over. My son is one of those being honored. We just learned that he’s been accepted to the prestigious Middlebury Language School’s Summer Intensive Program in Vermont, with a partial scholarship, and, this fall, he will begin classes at U.S.C. in Columbia. Thank you Dr. Nona Kerr, and to my beautiful son – I always knew that this is who you really are.
Susan DeBow is a Midwest writer with a Southern heart. She is currently working on her second book, The Irish Virgin, about her exploits in Ireland. Sue Fretwell’s photographs and articles have appeared in the now online Southcoast Magazine, www.southcoastnc.com, and she has photographed and published the Southport Calendar for the past 4 years. Sue has a passion for sharing her 20 years of experiences and ideas for living a full and rewarding single life. A native South Carolinian, Lisa Hamilton is the director of the First Presbyterian Church Preschool and Kindergarten. Of course she loves reading, but also finds time for cooking and walking her dog, Hurley. Ann Ipock is an award-winning Southern humorist and speaker who writes for the Georgetown Times, Sasee and Columbia County Magazine. Ann lives in Wilmington, N.C. with her husband, Russell. Life is Short, I Wish I Was Taller (published October, 2010) completes the Life is Short trilogy. Contact Ann through her website, www.annipock.com. Felice Prager is a freelance writer and author of the recently released book, Quiz It: Arizona from Arthur McAllister Publishers. To find out more about Felice’s book, please visit http://www.QuizItAZ.com.
cover artist
Judie Schaal is a 31 year resident of the Grand Strand. She is married to her favorite golf pro, Gary. She has two grown children and three grandchildren. She has written for The Sun News as a tennis columnist and On the Green.
Mother Nature…Protect…Nurture… Cherish…, by Kandy Myny Kandy Myny is a Michigan artist, wife and mother of two. She has been drawing and painting since an early age. Basically self taught, she has learned many new mediums through the years. Recently, her interest has been in mixed media. This technique lets her express herself in many ways using all kinds of elements to create one of kind pieces of art. Her portfolio includes a colorful world of whimsical neighborhoods and landscapes with trees that resemble lollipops, birds with stilt-like legs, quirky homes and serene mermaids and angels. She tries to keep a cohesive theme to her work, so several pieces can easily be grouped together. Her love of nature and the world around her inspires her every day. Her whimsical style can be seen throughout homes all across the country and throughout the world. Visit her shop at etsy.com, www.bitowhimsey.etsy.com or her website, www.bitowhimsey.com or find her on Facebook, www.facebook.com/bitowhimsey.
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Kim Seeley lives with her husband, Wayne, in Wakefield, Virginia. She has just published her first national article in the new volume of the Chicken Soup for the Soul series entitled, What I Learned from the Dog. Susan Shone is a freelance writer from Texas currently living in Virginia. She plans to return to the Sunbelt when the real estate market improves. Diane Stark is a wife, a mother of five and a freelance writer. Her work has appeared in publications like Chicken Soup for the Soul: A Tribute to Moms. She loves to write about her family and her faith.
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Abbie Mags appeals to the woman with a modern attitude by offering her wearable interpretations of the latest trends. Our Spring 2011 collection is colorful and playful – incorporating novelty fabrics, great prints and special details into every piece. We have designs with exciting collections of related separates that can be combined to create complete looks or stand on their own as must-have individual pieces. Stop by and see what all the excitement is about.
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Going Green Local Businesses Give the Gift of
We asked local business owners what they are doing to reduce their environmental footprint and learned that everyone is doing their part to save energy, reduce waste and recycle.
South Atlantic Bank’s green efforts include energy efficient ceiling fans in our lobbies, recycling of all plastic and paper products and auto on and off light systems in all of our buildings. Barbara Marshall, South Atlantic Bank
Here are a few examples: We receive so much cardboard from our shipments that we end up with two 8 yard container pickups a week for cardboard alone. We have plans for several more “customer” friendly recycling programs in the near future. Chris Richardson, The Kangaroo Pouch
Marketing Strategies, Inc., began the process of going green in early 2009. By reducing the amount of trash produced, paper waste and ultimately our supplies needed, we have virtually become a paperless office. We encourage our employees to help find a “greener” way to work, and we’ve noticed this is carrying over to our personal lives as well. Sarah George, Marketing Strategies
Doing our part to help keep pharmaceuticals out of South Carolina’s rivers, lakes and drinking water, Lee’s Inlet Apothecary offers free and safe disposal of unwanted medications. Our Takeaway™ program sends returned medications to a fully licensed and regulated incineration facility. Megan W. Peterson, Lee’s Inlet Apothecary & Gifts
“Recycling is important to us at Strand Media Group. Since we started recycling all of our glass, plastic, cans, cardboard and office paper, our actual trash has been reduced by more than half! Delores Blount, Publisher
Since we are primarily an Internet-based company now, over three quarters of our orders and sales are shipped. The primary way we incorporate “green” thinking into our business is to reuse every box that comes in. This keeps our shipping costs down by saving at least one to three dollars per order that we would spend if we had to purchase a box, and it ensures that each cardboard box is being used at least one more time. Robert Spivey, Anything Joes
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We already recycle all our cardboard. Recently we changed all 66 lights in the store over to compact flourescents. They use a lot less energy, don’t give off nearly the heat, and each bulb lasts up to 3 years, thus putting a lot less into the waste stream. Leslie Sloan, Taz
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www.sasee.com 9
A NEW CAREER IS WITHIN YOUR REACH. Miller-Motte Technical College
This National Historic Landmark is home to the only Association of Zoos and Aquariums accredited zoo on the coast in the Carolinas, and one of the most significant sculpture collections in the world!
offers career training in
Cosmetology, Esthetics Technology or Massage Therapy For more information call
866-309-2174
From overland excursions on the Trekker to garden tours and new exhibits, there is always something new and exciting at Brookgreen.
Changing Futures. Changing Lives.®
www.Miller-Motte.edu
For more information call or visit our website
(800) 849-1931 www.brookgreen.org
Now Open! MMTC’s Serenity Spa
Admission: $12 Adults, $10 Seniors, $6 Children 4-12 & Children under 3 are FREE!
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Butterfly Exhibit Opens Spring 2011
Read It! Admission is Good for 7 Days!
On Highway 17 south of Myrtle Beach between Murrells Inlet and Pawleys Island.
Lisa Says…Read Clara and Mr. Tiffany, by Susan Vreeland by Lisa Hamilton 10 www.sasee.com
MMMBSM1003 • ©2010 DCE
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Clara and Mr. Tiffany, by Susan Vreeland, is an unforgettable story told at the turn of the 20th century that sheds light on the fact that Louis Comfort Tiffany may not have been the only artist behind the beautiful Tiffany Lamps we know today. Louis was the son of Charles Tiffany, jeweler and founder of Tiffany & Company. Clara Driscoll worked at Tiffany Studios for many years and researchers recently uncovered letters written to her family that may change the history behind the artists and the art. Tiffany Studios did not allow married women in their workforce, the policy of many companies in the
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Pawleys Island Swimwear
We are pleased to announce the opening of our second location at the Inlet Square Mall
Tara Grinna Tommy Bahama Carmen Marc Valvo Coco Reef Christina Speedo
Trina Turk Tommy Hilfiger DKNY Ocean Dream Kenneth Cole Reaction
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Pawleys Island, SC 843-235-3808
Inlet Square Mall Hwy. 17 Bypass Murrells Inlet, SC 843-651-9372
Gifts • Jewelry • China
Shops at Oak Lea 11096 Ocean Highway Pawleys Island, SC 29585 (843) 237-8080 www.eleanorpitts.com
late 1800s and early 1900s. After Clara’s first husband died, she returned to the Studio and worked closely with her boss, Mr. Tiffany. While he encouraged her artistic sense and abilities, he limited the extraordinary talents and crafts of Clara and the “Tiffany Girls.” Clara’s passion and determination portrays a story of glassmaking and the art industry while also telling a beautiful personal story of love, loss and triumph. If you read Vreeland’s novel, Girl in Hyacinth Blue, you will be reminded of how Vreeland transforms the beauty of words into our eyes and our souls. Clara and Mr. Tiffany is filled with beautiful descriptions of art and nature in a colorful world. Clara Driscoll may have truly been the light behind the glass.
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www.sasee.com 11
Recycling Ultimate
W
by Esther M. Bailey
When I paid for my purchase at an upscale department store in 1976, I had no idea the money I spent would have such long-term value. As soon as I saw the fabric that spoke to me of subtle elegance, I knew it was a “must-have.” For my first European trip, I made a dress that came out of the suitcase without a wrinkle after twenty-four hours of travel.
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Compliments received from strangers boosted my sense of accomplishment. The designs knitted into the fabric created a unique pattern. Even more important was the variation of yarn that added luster to the geometric designs against a matte background. The neutral cream color allowed me to accessorize with colorful scarves or jewelry. After the trip, the dress continued to hold a prominent place in my wardrobe. Fast forward to 1989 – my husband, Ray, wanted to buy me a new dress to celebrate our twenty-fourth wedding anniversary. Shopping did not go well. At the third store we visited, we found a smart-looking, cream-colored knit dress. “I like it, but I don’t like it as well as the one I made that’s similar,” I said to Ray. By that time, I had updated the look by removing the midriff detail and purchasing a leather belt to match. From time to time, I weed out clothes from my wardrobe to pass on to charity. Somehow my 1976 dress always survived the cut. After my husband’s death in 2005, I downsized my house as well as my possessions. I made drastic cuts in my wardrobe, but there was too much history connected to the knit dress to part with it. For sentimental reasons, if for nothing else, the dress moved with me to my new house. With a closet full of clothes at the beginning of 2009, I felt the need to curb an addiction in the making. My love affair with fashion needed to cool. In a radical move, I made a commitment to forgo buying new clothes for the entire year. Keeping the commitment wasn’t as hard as I thought it might be. After my year of fasting from materialism, I bought a few items but didn’t go overboard because I wanted to keep my appetite for clothes under control. At the same time, I launched another clean-out-your-closet-for-charity campaign. I hadn’t worn the knit dress since I moved to my new house, so I decided it was finally time to let go. Among other things, I packed the dress in a box, ready to go out the door. For my 81st birthday, my daughter-in-law, Carol, sent me a lovely coral knit top. Over the closure of hidden buttons, three cream-colored, crocheted frogs adorned the front. The straight skirt I had was the right color, but a skirt with a little flare would be a better style. I found a cream skirt but my size was not available. The next place I looked had nothing, and on it went. I even surfed the Internet to no avail. Should I settle for the straight skirt or buy fabric and make one? I hadn’t done any significant sewing in years, and didn’t want to start. Then the thought hit me! The dress! I pulled out the knit dress from the box and turned it into a skirt with little effort – a perfect outfit. I believe in recycling, but this time I took it to the ultimate. If there is ever a prize for recycling something the longest, I should be the winner. Who knows? I may even wear the outfit to my funeral.
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If you have always wondered what is in the Owner’s Closet...
Helping You Live Your Life... to its Fullest!
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Owneret’s Clos
Pee Dee Spine Center
Let us help find your owner’s key!
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Located on the corner of the North Causeway and Hwy. 17 42 North Causeway Rd., Pawleys Island, SC • 843-314-3536
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• Sports Related Injuries • Fracture Care • Disorders of Bones, Joints and Tendons • Pediatric Orthopaedic Care • Worker’s Compensation Injuries • Foot and Ankle Surgery • Hand and Upper Extremity Injuries
Florence, SC 843-662-5233 www.pdoa.com
1580 Freedom Blvd. Suite 100
www.sasee.com 13
New Life for the Perfect Dress We’ve all had that perfect dress, that led to a perfect event and memories that will live forever...the same dress that now hangs endlessly in our closets waiting to be worn again. Katie’s Project has been offering a solution to this dilemma for over three years now. They have made it their mission to not let any dress go unused, while ensuring that everyone gets a chance to attend prom in style!
So just how does your ultimate dress Help Make Prom A Reality? First & Foremost
after
Donations are used to help students who cannot afford to attend prom. Katie’s Project has outfitted hundreds of students with dresses, tuxedos, shoes, accessories and even make up.
before after
What happens with donations that can’t be used?
If it’s still in style but not a prom fashion, Katie’s Project continues the cycle by donating to organizations like CASA or Fostering Hope. Dresses that are out of style or damaged are further recycled into hand crafted products that can be sold in their boutique as a fundraiser. Katie’s Project commissioned designer Alice George, of Georges’ Alley, to help develop items such as handbags, wine bottle covers, baby bibs and more! All one of a kind creations that are 100% recycled! These retail for $10-$45.
Next time you’re ready to part with your perfect dress...pass it along and help a young girl realize the power of feeling perfect for her big night!
www.KatiesProject.org
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before
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Hair • Nails • Facials • Waxing Lash Extensions • Spa Packages Massage Therapy • Gift Cards available Wedding parties welcome
Palmetto Ace Home Center Get In. Get Help. Get on with your life.
Le Claire fire chat table & chair set
The helpful place.
(843) 235-3555 8317 S. Ocean Highway Pawleys Island, SC 29585
Coastal Grand 843 / 839-3193 march
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Green Juice and Downward Dog by Sue Fretwell
I was always a late bloomer. Thought I had forever to figure out this thing called life and to become physically fit, but found myself in my mid-sixties with time running out…stuck in a self-sabotaging cycle when it comes to aging and the accompanying matters of fitness. The event that changed everything and pushed me toward a new resolve was the birth of a baby granddaughter last spring. Turns out, her parents were nervous about me holding her and asked me not to climb any stairs with her in my arms. Imagine! (In actuality, I couldn’t have if I wanted to at that point!) The jig was up. If I didn’t take action now, when would I? Formerly a fairly fit 50-something, I had now evolved into a totally unfit 60-something. I wanted to hold my grandchild! I wanted to be as healthy as I could for as long as possible…but was not on the right path to achieve those goals.
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In my 50s I was doing almost everything right: walking daily, hiking on weekends, socially active, and eating healthily, with an occasional glass of wine or beer on weekends. I had taken up swing dancing, Cajun dancing and contra dancing and loved them all. Still working, I went to bed at a reasonable hour every night and was up at 5 am every morning. Except for the demanding work schedule, life was good. When I hit 60, something changed. In short, I retired from my teaching career. Not needing to set an alarm anymore, I began staying up late every night…and snacking more. The occasional glass of wine became a nightly ritual, whether dining alone at home or out with friends. Oh, I still did a lot of things right, like moving from Atlanta to the coast of North Carolina, making lots of new friends and developing a couple of long-suppressed interests. However, a more active social life led to more dining out and an increase in wine consumption. (It’s what retirees do!) My new passions (writing and photography) caused me to sit at the computer long hours. Never one for kitchen hobbies, I stocked up on cheese and crackers, apples, ice cream and plenty of wine…simple “staples” to keep me from having to do any cooking between dinners out! Lo and behold, my weight started climbing, as did my cholesterol count…and blood pressure. Every joint ached when going up and down the stairs to my condo…so I simply cut down on the number of times I’d have to do it! In December, my aching back and I finally went to an orthopedic doctor. X-rays showed no major problems, just one out-of-line vertebra causing an inflamed sciatic nerve. Two weeks later I headed to Oregon, bolstered with several shots of cortisone, an Rx for pain pills, and a list of daily exercises to do. I would be staying for four months in my own rented studio, wanting to get to know my grandkids better and enjoy the baby while she was still a baby. I was feeling hopeful! However, after a few days of picking up the now 23 pound baby and trying to help with household chores generated by three kids, three adults and three dogs…my back was a wreck again. The discomfort was semi-crippling. But here I was, a sensible, conservative, east coast senior citizen…in Oregon…land of home births without drugs, organic eating, feely-touchy, love-everyone, free spirits! Over the years of visiting my son in this “strange” place he chose to make his home, I became slowly more accepting of the different lifestyle and outlook that flourishes here. My daughter-in-law (who has delivered three babies at home!) convinced me to go to her chiropractor…a thing I’d never considered in my entire traditional life. She gave me some brochures on yoga and tai chi classes for older people. My daughter backed her up with a hearty endorsement of those mystic exercises as well. What’s a desperate grandma to do? Give it all a try, I decided. Do something…anything…to break the cycle, if indeed it can be broken at this age. So, three chiropractic visits and two effective yoga classes later, in addition to daily stretching exercises from the orthopedist…I am giving it ALMOST everything I can. With yoga positions called Downward Dog and Warrior Pose in my new arsenal of treatments, I’m breaking the inertia cycle and my own conservative fixations…but now…what to do about that diet? Today my daughter gave me a glass of green juice to “just try.” It actually wasn’t so bad. It’s a start…but I still can’t help wonder...wouldn’t a splash of vodka make it even better? Namaste…
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“Providing Compassionate Care One Patient at a Time…”
PA L M
Primary Care Specialists
Jason D. Harrah, MD Family Medicine
SHOES & COLLECTIONS Robert E. Kimpton, MD Family Medicine
Services include but not limited to General Medicine for Adults and Children, Hypertension, Diabetes Management, Geriatrics, Women’s Health, Preventative Medicine, EKGs and Comprehensive Physicals
Accepting New Patients
3471 Belle Terre Boulevard, Suite A-1, Myrtle Beach, SC 29579 Located in Food Lion Shopping Center off Forestbrook Rd. and 501 Fax: 843-236-1952 • Phone: 843-236-1950 www.grandstrandprimarycare.com
Saving Our Earth One Baby Step at a Time
Finally…a baby store with the brand names you’ve been looking for! We Carry Brand Names. We Ship. • We Are The Perfect Baby Registry/Gift Store 961 Mr. Joe White Ave. (10th Ave. N.) • Myrtle Beach • 843-839-0990 Mon.-Sat. 10 am-6 pm • thekangaroopouch.net • facebook.com/thekangaroopouch
11388 Ocean Hw y Pawleys Island, SC 29585 843.979.9997 palmshoe.com
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Women’s Leadership Conference & Celebration of Inspiring Women March 25, 2011- Myrtle Beach Marriott Resort & Spa at Grande Dunes
Women in Philanthropy and Leadership (WIPL) for Coastal Carolina University is proud to announce the inaugural Women’s Leadership Conference & Celebration of Inspiring Women. These two events will focus on empowering women to lead by bringing nationally known speakers to Myrtle Beach. The conference, starting at 8:00 am, will provide a forum for women to share their wisdom on topics intended to help attendees advance in their careers, balance work and life, and interact with business, philanthropic, civic and political leaders. The Celebration of Inspiring Women will begin at 6:30 in the evening with cocktails, music and dinner. The Inspiring Women Awards will follow to recognize and celebrate the Vision, Impact and Legacy of six South Carolina women who have had an impact locally, nationally and globally. ABC News correspondent Sharyn Alfonsi will serve as master of ceremonies for both events. Alfonsi, based in New York, reports for all ABC News broadcasts and platforms, including “World News with Diane Sawyer,” “Nightline” and “Good Morning America.”
Visit WIPLConference.com for the current confirmed speakers, events agenda and to purchase your tickets today!
The WIPL Conference & Celebration of Inspiring Women is presented by Women in Philanthropy and Leadership for Coastal Carolina University. WIPL would like to thank their sponsors: Gold Sponsors: The Brandon Agency & WPDE Channel 15, Silver Sponsors: Nationwide Insurance & Frugal Princess Bronze Sponsors: Aramark Higher Education & Myrtle Beach Area Chamber of Commerce, Internet Café Sponsor: Carole and John Sanders Tech-Ed Fund To inquire about opportunities for Business or Table Sponsorship opportunities, please contact Terri DeCenzo @ 843-349-2002.
Consign
Our
dle
450-A Hwy. 17 Business N., Corner of 5th Avenue N. Surfside Beach, S.C. 29575 • Mon-Sat 10 am-5 pm • 843-213-1178
Photographed by Middle Child Photography
4640 Hwy 17, Murrells Inlet, SC • 843-651-7424 Next to Salt Creek Cafe • hannahbs@sccoast.net 15% off one regularly priced spring apparel item
te Mack • Vineyard Vines • BOB Strollers • Vive La Fete • Pud
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Best Blessings The by Diane Stark
“OK, Diane, you’re doing well,” my obstetrician said, snapping off her rubber gloves. “You’re dilated to eight centimeters, so it shouldn’t be much longer.” As a first-time mom, I didn’t know that “not much longer” meant another seven hours. But on that day, I was clueless about more than just the birth process. My husband sat on one side of me, holding my hand and reminding me to breathe. My mom was on my other side, crying quietly into her hands. “It’s all right, Mom,” I assured her. “It doesn’t hurt that bad.” “Yes, it does,” she murmured. Her eyes looked vacant, almost hopeless, and it scared me. I wondered if she knew something that I didn’t. Hours later, when my son was born, not breathing and with the cord around his neck, I forgot about Mom’s tears and focused on my newborn son. His initial Apgar score was one, and I was terrified we’d lose him. But Jordan rallied, and we were able to take him home within the week. It was exciting and scary, and incredibly busy, and Mom’s odd behavior at the hospital was forgotten. But days later, she called me, nearly hysterical. She told me that my dad had had an affair, and now he was moving out. They’d been married for almost 30 years. “I didn’t want to tell you now, when you should be so happy, but I couldn’t help it. I need you, Honey,” she said, sobbing. Over the next few months, the sound of Mom’s tears became as familiar to me as those of my newborn son. Because she lived far away, we spent hours each day on the phone, her talking and crying, me just listening and doing the little I could to offer comfort. I sent hang-in-there cards and pick-me-up flowers and tons of pictures of her first grandbaby. It wasn’t much, but it was all I could do. And I felt it was the least I could do for her after all she’d done for me. But still, it was sometimes scary to realize that Mom and I had completely reversed roles. After a lifetime of counting on Mom to be there for me, I had become the caretaker, she was more the child. It was frightening, but it was our reality for a season. A few years later, Mom remarried, and my sister and I were her matrons-of-honor. Mom’s new husband was a wonderful man, and I was happy for her. Things were finally back to normal.
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And then my own marriage fell apart. By then, I’d had a second child and had two young kids to take care of at a time when I could barely care for myself. But Mom stepped in. She was there in ways that only a mother could be. She provided an emotional strength neither of us knew she had. She took care of my kids when I couldn’t. She was just there, and she did what had to be done. Sometimes it felt good to be taken care of, to just let her do her thing. But after a while, I realized that her thing should have been my thing. It was fine to let her be my mom, but she was also being a mom to my kids – and that was my job. I pulled it together because I had to. My kids needed me. But I still needed Mom. One day, I was feeling particularly emotional, and I tearfully thanked Mom for carrying me for the last few months. She smiled and shrugged. “You did it for me, Honey.” I smiled back. “Yeah, I guess I did. We’ve always been there for one another.” It was something I was infinitely grateful for, but at the same time, I didn’t like feeling so dependent. A year later, I was back on my feet. I had a job I loved, and I’d met Eric, the man I would eventually marry. My life was definitely on the upswing. My relationship with my mom has evolved over the years. Throughout my childhood, she held my hand and wiped my tears. And for a time, I did those things for her. I then experienced a second childhood, where I needed Mom more than ever before. And she didn’t let me down. We’ve always been mother and daughter, but through the years, we’ve changed roles depending on the circumstances. One of us has stepped up when the other was hurting and in need. We were there for one another during the worst times of our lives, and now we’re enjoying the good times together. Presently, what I need most from my mom is her friendship. Life goes in cycles. Sometimes we feel strong, and we’re able to lift up a friend or a loved one. At other times, we’re the one who needs the support. Those ups and downs are just part of the roller coaster we call Life. But having people who love you enough to ride the coaster with you is the best blessing of all.
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Southern Snaps
Tracy Bailey: Freedom Readers by Connie Barnard
“Once you learn to read, you are free forever.” – Frederick Douglas Tracy Swinton Bailey recently stood before a group of prospective volunteers to talk about Freedom Readers, the innovative non-profit reading program she founded to help local children develop critical reading skills. Her presentation began with these words: “Not too long ago, in a house on a dirt road not too far from here, a father and his daughter played out a nightly ritual. The daughter, dressed in warm PJs, is tucked into bed. The father, tired from a long day at work, settles into a chair and reads his baby girl a story. She listens intently as her mind travels to distant places…The daddy, having walked away from formal schooling after the 8th grade, reads to her with gusto and passion.” The little girl in this story is Tracy herself, a dynamic, impressive young woman who recently began work on a doctorate in language and literacy. Descended from slave families living since the early 1700s in the close knit North Santee community of lower Georgetown County, Tracy and her siblings were the first generation in her family to receive high school diplomas. The area’s isolated location and limited transportation forced her parents and most residents to drop out of school after the eighth grade. Yet Tracy’s father read to her with a gusto and passion he passed on to his daughter, who graduated from Georgetown High School in 1991, the College of Charleston in 1995, and received a masters degree from Coastal Carolina University in 2009. Shortly after starting her doctoral studies, Tracy interviewed her father, now 75, to find out how he learned to read. To her amazement, she discovered that her
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grandmother, who had very little formal education, had empowered her son with a love of reading which he passed on to his young daughter. Their nightly ritual of reading together helped shape Tracy’s life. Now she, in turn, is paying it forward, dedicating her time, resources and energy to opening the world of reading to children who otherwise might never know its magic. After graduating from college Tracy joined the faculty of Socastee High School as an English and journalism teacher. Her friend and mentor, CCU professor Dr. Sally Hare, says, “Tracy’s gift as a teacher was that she was never satisfied. She was always pushing herself to do more, to find a better way of teaching, especially to reach those kids that seemed to be falling through the cracks in the system.” She sponsored the Multicultural Club and in 1999, with support from across the educational community, organized Teen Summit, an annual conference which for four years brought together student body presidents and other representatives from every high school in Horry and Georgetown Counties. The participants, from varying economic, academic, and racial backgrounds, met once a month to plan the two-day conference at CCU featuring keynote speakers who discussed issues of common concern. Tracy still hears from participants who say the program changed their lives and the way they view the world. The idea for Teen Summit originated from conversations with her dearest friend, her husband, writer Issac Bailey, whom she met the summer before her senior year of high school when both participated in the Governor’s School for Academics in Charleston. The young man from St. Stephen went on to receive a degree in journalism from Davidson College, refusing to let physical, racial or economic barriers impede or embitter him. Married in 1998, Tracy and Issac Bailey are tireless in their efforts to create new opportunities and honest dialogue throughout the community. Tracy says her husband’s courage is her greatest motivation. ”You have to learn to live a no excuses life.
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Issac personifies this. If he can take little steps and big leaps every day, I can too.” When their son Kyle was born in 2001, Tracy left the classroom to invest herself fully in him and his sister, Lyric, who arrived three years later. Tracy continued to take graduate classes at CCU and work as a volunteer in the Burgess Community. Then in 2005 she was approached regarding a position with the National Urban Alliance for Effective Education [NUA] which partners with school districts across the country to assess and assist in meeting educational needs of all students. The next four years Tracy traveled one week out of each month, mentoring teachers across the country in developing effective learning strategies for non-traditional students. She looks back on the experience as both eye-opening and life-changing: “My experience with NUA opened my eyes to the injustices taking place in our schools, and I could not stop thinking, ‘We can do better than this.’” The poet Robert Frost once wrote of the manner in which “way leads on to way.” Surely this was true for Tracy as each step along one path clearly prepared her for the next. In 2009, using innovative strategies from her NUA work as the culminating project for her master’s degree, Tracy developed a program for children in the Burgess Community aged 4-13. They met twice a week for eight weeks to research and share life stories of historic figures included in the South Carolina state standards. The project culminated in “Faces of Freedom,” a glorious production presented at a community-wide celebration. Community leaders and CCU academic advisors alike praised the program for helping the children understand the significance of their unique history and the heroic shoulders on which they stand. In 2009, on a wing and a prayer, Tracy entered the doctoral program at USC’s School of Education and began weekly commutes to Columbia. Her first course in language and literacy examined the interplay between culture, language and cognition, a concept she understood from a very personal perspective. Despite a natural intelligence and drive to achieve, Tracy knew that both she and Issac could easily have been doomed by their early environments. Knowing first-hand the link between reading skills and success in school, the young couple laid out an ambitious vision for the future, one that would connect children from at-risk backgrounds with adult volunteer reading partners in a one-on-one developmental reading program which came to be known as Freedom Readers. Tracy says, “I know first-hand that we have wonderful schools in Horry County with dedicated and caring teachers who are making a difference in the lives of young people. However, they need our help. In a class of 20 students, few teachers can read with each one individually. We know that children whose families are below the poverty line are less likely to be read to every day
than those with higher incomes. We also know that reading aloud to children builds listening skills, increases a child’s attention span and develops the ability to concentrate at length.” Now in its second year, Freedom Readers meets at two area locations, Huckabee Heights and Darden Terrace, in 12-15 week sessions held throughout the year. In groups limited to 20 participants, the children gather after school one day a week for 90 high-energy, intensive minutes. In addition to its main goal of improving critical reading skills, the program is also designed to build confidence and leadership from within. The children gather to enjoy a healthy snack, then stand together and recite these proud words: “I Stand Tall. My family. My community. My country. My world. The world is waiting for my leadership.” For the next hour, trained volunteer reading partners and program participants read together each to each, listening and affirming. Afterward, the children receive a new book to take home for their personal libraries. Tangible benefits of the program are obvious, but for participants and volunteers alike, the intangible ones are equally significant. During the last 15 minutes of each session the children re-assemble as a group, and each one gives a short speech on the topic, “This Is What Is Important to Me”. Subjects vary from personal goals to concerns about trash on the playground. Phillip Miles, a volunteer mentor and Tracy’s pastor at Christ Community Church, says, “My involvement as a tutor has been eye opening. I have found these students to be willing and able to grow their reading potential with just a little boost from a volunteer. The connection between tutor and student is strong by design and very effective. The results are amazing. Freedom Readers has opened my eyes and heart to the beauty and potential of others so close yet so far away.” Asked to share her vision for the next ten years, Tracy smiled and said, “I’d like Freedom Readers to operate from its own building near the community, have state-of-art- technology, active support for families from their children’s birth, and the children in the program today enrolled in IB and AP programs on their way to Ivy League colleges.” Wow! As for herself, Tracy describes her future as a walk of faith: “I don’t know exactly where I’m supposed to go, but I know to take the next step.” Wherever she goes and whatever she does, it is sure to be a mighty journey, one which began with the love of a father who read nightly to his little girl and a partner and soul-mate who shares her vision of making a difference, one child at a time. To learn more about this program, please visit www.freedomreaders.org.
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Sasee editor, Leslie Moore, had a wonderful time with some pretty cool eighth graders during Forestbrook Middle School’s Career Day and received some heartfelt thank you notes from the class.
Goes to School
Thank you for taking your time to come out and tell us about Sasee magazine. Although it sounded girlie, I still enjoyed it…thanks for calling on my friend, Alex, and not me. Daniel I loved your wonderful presentation…I didn’t realize how important it is to know my grammar and how to spell and all that good stuff. I know now to take my high school English classes more seriously! Anna I thank you for coming in for career day. I liked how you let us interview each other, it gave me experience. You were very energetic which was really cool because most people today aren’t. Brendan Thank you for the interesting interview system you showed us and the important things you need to do to become an interviewer, like being a good listener…and having a bright, pleasant smile, like you gave us when you spoke. Loki Thank you for coming to speak to our class. I learned a lot about what you do…I don’t want to do what you do, but, still, it’s pretty cool… Makenzie Thanks for coming to Forestbrook Middle School. Not a big fan of women’s magazines, but some of the stuff you said was cool… Hayes A BIG thank you to Eileen Patonay for inviting Sasee to be a part of this day!
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Finding Your Way by Judie Schaal
I love to write. I love taking a subject, examining it from all angles and finding the words to express my thoughts. But, that hasn’t always been the case. When I was in high school I hated to write. When it came time for term papers I looked for every possible reason to avoid that exercise. My thoughts turned from plagiarism to injuring my writing hand to running away from home. The same conclusions crossed my mind when my mother demanded that I write thank you notes to relatives for Christmas presents. Must I really thank my aging grandmother, who knew I lived in the snowy north, for the silk night gown she sent me every year? I considered myself an average student, getting mostly Bs and Cs, although I did get straight As in one subject the year a new handsome football coach arrived to teach history. Soon it was time for college, and I was accepted into a good liberal arts school. But sitting in freshmen orientation, I wondered why as I heard my SAT scores were among the lowest of the entering class. The presiding administrator related the percentage of those before him who would not be around by their sophomore year. I lowered my head hoping he was not looking at me. But I decided my application must have looked fairly good because of all the extracurricular activities in which I participated. I definitely made As in classes that pertained to sports and somehow I was elected into National Honor Society. But, upon graduation from college I was ecstatic that I would never have to write another paper. Marriage and family soon followed, and in my free hours I began playing tennis. My playing partners and I became involved in team tennis and traveled around the county playing increasingly important matches. One morning I picked up the newspaper and realized that golf was being covered on a grand scale in our town, but there was literally no information written about tennis. That evening, I was at a cocktail party where the sports editor of the local paper happened to be. I asked him why the paper had a golf columnist but no tennis columnist. He hesitated, looked at me and said, “How ‘bout you do it.” “Me?” I replied, “Write a column?” I thought to myself, “You’ve got to be kidding. You don’t know how I struggle with words on paper!” However, I went home, thought about how it could impact the tennis community and called him the next day and accepted his offer. Thank goodness the job entailed mostly reporting facts and scores, so putting exact nouns, verbs and adjectives together was not a priority. In fact it was fun going to tournaments, talking to the players, watching the action and reporting the scores. But my job excitement waned the Sunday I left my husband and two small children for the entire day to report on a tournament in a nearby town. Late in the afternoon I came home to type up the tournament results and drive
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to the newspaper to submit my column. In those days there was no Internet by which one could miraculously push a button and send your words through the air to their destination. On the way home, I was stopped by the police for running a stop sign and issued a $20 ticket. I had spent the whole day away from my loved ones to complete a column which earned me $15 that ended up costing me $5. My years as a columnist ended at a good time as my husband’s job experiences were taking him to sites across the country and around the world. We would be traveling extensively and not able to keep up with local activities. Although we visited magnificent locations and were treated to unbelievable experiences, my old nemesis of having to write thank you notes reappeared. But I forced myself to pick up pen and paper as I felt it extremely important to acknowledge our thanks for transportation provided, accommodations reserved and gifts received. One day, as I was writing about my 10th thank you note, I stopped and reread my prose. Then I read it again. I thought to myself, “Did I write that? Where did those words come from?” I sat back and thought about the combination of words and what writing can do. Words can warm someone’s heart because they helped another along the way. They can send hope to a friend who is dealing with sickness or pain. They can convey love that might be buried deep within. They can inspire. They can share a faith. And then I wondered about this child who hated to write, who thought she was an average student and didn’t have the confidence to put her thoughts down on paper. Was her aversion to writing due to the fact that the subject matter was not her choice or had she not found what she truly cared to write. How many of us, for one reason or another, have a talent that has never been exposed. Grandma Moses did not begin to paint her masterpieces until she was 76. If we all were to examine our lives and what we love, would we find we could develop that simple love into something that would make our lives more meaningful. And possibly the enriching of our lives would touch others and change theirs as well. Look deep within you. Find what you love to do, develop it and give your life more meaning.
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www.sasee.com 27
A Yard Sale
to Remember by Susan Shone
The most memorable yard sale I ever attended was also the first one I ever went to. I’ve been to many since, most of them lighthearted events taking place on sunny spring or summer Saturday mornings. But that first experience determined the way I’ve thought about yard sales ever since. I was going to college in Baltimore, and my best friend and I were out for a weekend drive to take a break from studying for a couple of hours. It was autumn, and the colors of the leaves were breathtaking, but we could only take so much leaf-peeking before boredom set in. We drove to another part of town and parked on a street lined with old churches and mostly-closed shops. We started walking, wound up in a modest neighborhood and came upon a big yard sale at a house on a street corner. A good-sized group of people rummaged through the items while a patient-looking older woman presided over everything from the porch swing. Now and then she collected the dollar bills and quarters people clumsily gave her, their arms bulging with items. A younger man, possibly her son, sat next to her, smiling at everyone and sometimes laughing with the customers who stopped to chat. Two college kids who didn’t often get far from campus couldn’t have asked for anything more tempting. Here was a possible adventure, a glance into someone’s attic. There were boxes of books to sort through; some of them maybe even first editions. There was a collection of odd-looking kitchen gadgets from the 1950s and 1960s, old magazines, furniture in good condition, vintage clothing and an amazing variety of knickknacks – all of it to be had for next to nothing, which was just about as much money as we had. For the young and naive it is easy to believe that any of us – all of us – can up and sell our own past anytime we feel like it on the way to making a new start and not even charge much for it. We spent an hour or two lost among someone else’s memories. Naturally we ended up buying some things. My friend bought a lot of books, at least half of which he wasn’t interested in. I chose an old key chain with a Canadian flag and some small official portraits of Popes from earlier in the century. When we brought our purchases up to the woman on the porch, the other buyers and lookers had cleared out for the moment. While my friend paid for his books. I complimented the woman on her yard sale. “Oh, well, we’re moving, you know,” she said, smiling. The younger man smiled at me too, and then looked away. Shy, I thought. “It’s tough moving, I don’t envy you,” I said. “It’s not so bad,” the young man said, then more loudly: “We’ve lived here too long, in this house, in Baltimore. We’re really sick of it, you know?” “Yes, I do know that feeling.” I tried to look him in the eye, but there was something about him that made that difficult. “I get tired of living in the same place too long, too. Where are you moving?” “To Pennsylvania. To York, Pennsylvania, it’s a small town…”
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there.”
“Oh, yeah! I know where that is! I have a friend who has relatives
“Yeah, well, so do we. We’ve got some family there. We’re going as soon as possible.” “Yes,” said his maybe-mother. “We really do need to leave here – it’s not good for us to stay here, not anymore.” I looked at the young man, and I wondered, was he thinking of how light my heart was on this utterly ordinary Saturday afternoon, telling me with a glance to be glad of that, to cherish it, remember it? He swallowed and looked down at the gray cement porch floor. With growing discomfort I watched his eyes filled with tears despite his struggle against them. When the first tear fell, I felt my stomach clench. I looked at my friend. His face told me that friendly small talk wasn’t what the two of them needed anymore, not from strangers just passing through their front yard. My friend took in a slow breath and said, “We’d better be heading back,” only just loud enough. “Don’t mind us, honey,” the woman said, stroking the young man’s back. “It’s just no good for us here anymore, that’s all.” Then, in a lower voice, “Especially not for my son, you know.” There was nothing I could say to her, so I smiled and nodded. Later I wished I had bowed my head to her for a moment instead. Maybe that sounds melodramatic but I thought it would’ve been appropriate, and I would have done it if I’d thought of it, out of respect for their heartbreak, whatever its cause. At the sidewalk I turned and wished them good luck in York, Pennsylvania, in the most normal tone of voice I could muster. But the young man didn’t look up again. His hands covering his face, he didn’t even move. We walked back to the car in silence. To blindly stumble into someone else’s anguish was sobering, like having ice water thrown into your face. When I got home I hid my pitiful purchases in the closet, where they would remain for months to come. Although I no longer live in Baltimore, the Papal pictures still inhabit my current closet. Eventually I did start using the key chain, though. I kept it on my key ring for years, until its hard plastic broke apart, a reminder to take joy in the present whenever possible.
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The Stirring Spoon by Kim Seeley
When I think of today’s throwaway, disposable society with the recent interest in reducing one’s carbon footprint, I cannot help but believe that in many ways my mother-in-law, whom we called Granny, was a few decades ahead of her time. Granny was a product of the Depression, and she grew up with the dictum, “Use it up, wear it out, make it do or do without.” She followed this philosophy her entire life. Granny saw nothing unusual in her lifestyle. She was brought up on a farm on which very little was wasted. When her daddy had hog killings, they used to say they used all of the parts of a hog “except for the squeal.” Her family ate what they grew, with occasional trips into town to buy staples such as sugar and flour. They visited a nearby mill to grind their corn, and Granny and her mother churned their own butter. When she married, she taught her daughters to churn butter. She
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made her daughters’ dresses out of the feed bags that her husband purchased to feed the livestock. Sometimes she would show him which material she needed so that she could finish a certain dress. She picked, froze, canned and pickled vegetables most of the summer so that her family could enjoy them all winter. Her sweet pickles are a cherished memory, and there is not a store brand that could come close to her recipe. Granny did not believe in throwing things out that might be of use,
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yet she was not a pack-rat. Her house was so neat and clean that it sparkled, and she saw her house as a reflection of her own values and love for her family. In the living room closet, however, there resided crayons, story books and games that had belonged to her children, kept for future generations to enjoy. My own children loved to read the same books Granny had read to their daddy, particularly Bad Mousie, and to play with the ancient Tiddly-Winks and Mr. Potato Head games. As a young mother, I offered to replace the old crayons with shiny new Crayolas, but Granny saw nothing wrong with the stubs of crayons, and her grandchildren never seemed to mind them. She was recycling in a sense before the term came into the popular vernacular. She entertained both of my daughters with Sears and Roebuck’s catalogs. Granny and granddaughter would cut and paste pictures from the catalog onto construction paper, making collages on various topics. Sometimes my daughter would come home with her overnight suitcase packed full of clippings from the Sears and Roebuck catalog. My daughter loved this activity as much as every shiny new toy advertised on television before Christmas. She is now thirty years old, but she still has the treasured overnight bag. Granny would hang plastic zippered bags on a hook over the sink. If the contents had not been too potent, she would rinse the bag out, let it dry and use it again. For a person who never heard the term, “carbon footprint,” Granny’s sense of waste-not, want-not, made her a thoughtful citizen of the world before it became the fashion. Granny used the same pots and pans her entire married life. Some credit must be given to the manufacturers of the well-used soup pots, frying pans and sauce pans because few of today’s pots could have withstood the heavy use Granny demanded of them for nearly sixty years. Granny used those pots and pans to feed as many as ten to twelve people every Sunday, and Granny’s Sunday dinners were the equivalent of some people’s holiday feasts. A few of her pots and pans began to show some age, and a wellmeaning daughter-in-law offered a replacement at Christmas, but the shiny new pot would be returned or pushed to the back of the cabinet. “What do I need this for?” Granny would ask. “There’s nothing wrong with my old sauce pan.” We would sigh and exchange knowing glances, having been defeated once again in the battle to update Granny’s kitchen. The one item in the kitchen that spoke most strongly of Granny’s reluctance to part with her old possessions was the stirring spoon. When I married into the family, the spoon was already worn down on one side; only the top part of the spoon still maintained the oval shape. At the time of her death, it had literally been stirred into half a spoon. When I first saw it, I innocently asked Granny, “Would you like a new set of stirring spoons for Christmas?” “No, I don’t need a new spoon.” Granny was adamant. There was nothing wrong with that spoon or any of her others. In fact, all of her kitchen possessions were just fine. As a matter of fact, everything she owned was just fine, in her opinion, which made her the hardest person to shop for in the entire world. Other than a housedress from Sears, bought according to her specific instructions, I don’t believe I ever bought her anything in my married life that she truly needed or even wanted. Perhaps there is a lesson to be learned from the stirring spoon. To her family, that spoon represented hours and hours of labor, cooking and feeding her hungry brood. It also represented the effort she made to keep her family close. There is nothing like sitting down to eat with each other on a Sunday afternoon to keep those lines of communication open. In a time of economic upheaval and hardship, we could all practice a little more frugality. Perhaps we could all use a few more Sunday dinners with the family. We might each learn a lesson from Granny, a product of the Depression, who made things “do,” even a long-handled stirring spoon.
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Aunt Margaret’s
Pearls of Love by Ann Ipock
I love pearls! Diamonds may be a girl’s best friend, but pearls run a close second. They are so feminine, so charming, so Southern! What’s not to like about them? They are just plain classy (an oxymoron, perhaps – but, nevertheless, true). When I think of pearls, I think of Audrey Hepburn – and who doesn’t? – also Marie Antoinette and the famous Vermeer painting, Girl with a Pearl Earring. Pearls are great! And they’re so versatile. When a twenty-somethingyear-old friend of Katie’s came to our house recently, she was wearing blue jeans and heels, a starched white shirt and – you guessed it, pearls! When I commented on them, she told me they were a high-school graduation gift from her mother. She wears them every day. And since she looked ravishing, I could see her point. Pearls also go great with the LBD (little black dress) and of course, wedding gowns. I remember when Barbara Bush made the three-strand pearls famous. I went right out and bought a set. I also have a long set, a short set, a fat, chunky set (newest of all, with a pinkish tinge, and a large clasp for pendants) and my choker pearls. So special are my pearl necklaces, that I keep them – five in all –
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inside a dressy, zippered pouch. But of all these, the choker is the one I cherish the most because it was given to me by my sweet, precious and genteel Aunt Margaret. What a lady! They just don’t make them like that anymore. Seriously. She was the sister of my Granny Pinky (paternal side) and though I had Granny pretty high up on a pedestal, Aunt Margaret was at least par with that. To say I adored her was an understatement. In fact, I was named for my maternal grandmother, Julia Margaret. (My given name was Margaret Ann.) But truthfully, the way I admired Aunt Margaret and just gushed over her, I used to pretend I was named for her. I reasoned: if she was the queen, I wanted to be the princess. Years later, when I learned the name Margaret meant “pearl,” I found that quite poignant.
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She and Uncle Nathan lived in Henderson, N.C., (but visited our coastal home from time to time) and were what I referred to as our “rich relatives.” He owned a television station back in the day when there were only three channels to watch: ABC, NBC and CBS. How can I describe Aunt Margaret? Her skin was like porcelain – honestly; her face had the shape, color and sheen of a porcelain doll. She always smelled heavenly – just a subtle wafting of a flower-like perfume. Her perfect rosebud lips and manicured nails were always painted red to offset her beautifully coifed silver hair. She dressed impeccably with a great sense of style. Aunt Margaret had a Southern drawl, quite refined, and she was soft spoken. When she laughed, her eyes twinkled, and she laughed a lot. She thought I was funny and it’s true that I’d show off for her. She always treated me like I was special, even though she had beaucoup nieces and nephews. I don’t mean to brag when I say I think I was her favorite. She once gave me a $5 bill and told me not to tell anyone. I couldn’t imagine why because I was thrilled, and I wanted to share the good news, but I didn’t. Another time she gave me a lovely doll, about 9” tall, named Margo. Margo had wavy, blonde hair and wore a shiny pink-flowered dress with a solid pink satin trim and tiny heels. Even the doll was CLASSY – French, I’m guessing. Her arms and legs moved. I still have that doll, though one arm has fallen off and been repaired a couple of times. Aunt Margaret always had time to listen to my childish stories, and she never rushed me. She got down on my level, literally and figuratively, and I loved that about her. Few adults really listened to children in those days, but she did. I can’t remember exactly how I acquired the pearls. It’s been many, many years ago. For a long time I didn’t wear them. One day I noticed they were “loose.” That’s the only word I know to describe them. I found the phone number of someone who restrung pearls, and I had them done. They came back to me, good as new, and I kept them tucked away in a small jewelry box for a long time. The day Caroline, Katie’s friend, visited, it got me to thinking about those pearls. I felt a bit sad that I’d neglected them. I felt a bit hopeful when I remembered I had a formal affair coming up and they’d set off the outfit, for sure. I tried them on, but they felt too tight to be comfortable. So, I took the choker to a jewelry store, to have it extended, if that was possible. The lady at the counter began working on them, adding a small silver rope extension, all the while admiring them, even calling them “exquisite.” I considered asking if they were “real.” I felt like I wanted to know (the adult Ann), but part of me thought I might be just as well off not knowing (the child Ann). What if they weren’t real? Would that change the special relationship I had with Aunt Margaret? After all, I’d defended her for years against certain family members who doubted her affection for me was anything beyond family-friendly. Somehow, I knew those pearls were just as genuine as her love for me. It turned out I was right when the jeweler confirmed my hopes. Indeed, they’re cultured pearls (as opposed to natural). “You are a very lucky woman. Your aunt must have loved you immensely.” I smiled, wanting to comment, but the lump in my throat stopped me. I wish every young girl could have an Aunt Margaret in her life who offered gifts of love. May she rest in peace.
I wish every young girl could have an Aunt Margaret in her life who offered gifts of love.
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Hip Hip Hooray! by Susan DeBow
I gingerly walk to the kitchen to heat my leftover sesame chicken and vegetable fried rice for lunch. It tastes fine, although the chicken is tougher than when I ate the first helping last night. But I am satisfied. Happy even.
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It’s the little things I missed, like heating leftovers in the microwave, while for the last five and a half weeks I was parked in my recliner, scared to move the wrong way because I didn’t want my new hip to pop from its socket. It’s been a long five and a half weeks. I’ve watched way too much bad television. I know every online coupon deal and promo code there is. I’ve moved ice packs between my incision area to the thigh muscles and butt cheeks, hoping that I could hasten my healing. I’ve checked into the “Pop That Zit” website every day. And you know you have hit the bottom when you do that and become engaged enough to then go to YouTube to see more cyst removal videos. But that’s what happens to the brain when the body becomes planted in one spot for too long. It was obvious by my actions that most of the blood that usually flows through my brain had been detoured to my hip to help it heal. I had become vegetable lasagna. The path from reasonably motivated and sensible person began after I decided I needed to do something about my bum hip, the one that made me look like the Leaning Tower of Pisa when I walked. The same one that was causing me not to be able to put on my right shoe. And the same hip that hooked on the leg that was an inch and a half longer than the other. So, I thought I would go to the orthopedic doctor to find out what kind of exercises I could do to fix this problem. Prior to seeing the doctor, I was led to the x-ray room to have pictures taken of my hip. Of course, that was just after they weighed me (bastards). The ortho man entered the room, introduced himself, popped the films onto the light box and said, “Well, I’ll do a hip replacement as soon as you’re ready.” “Huh?” I said, looking at him with that, “You’ve got to be kidding,” expression. “A hip replacement?” The doctor proceeded to show me how my hip was eaten with arthritis. “I can tell you aren’t ready,” he said. “But when you are…” All I wanted was a few exercises I could do to “fix” myself. And here was someone telling me that I needed fixing. The doctor was right. I wasn’t ready. But I also knew I didn’t want to have to keep living the way I was, with pain at every movement, sleep interrupted by hip pain. So I pondered. And in the lexicon of my conversations, the term hip replacement came into being. I called people who I found out had had them. I immediately googled “hip replacement surgery” and, like a fool, watched the procedure being done on YouTube. Holy nuts I thought, not only do they cut you open, but they use instruments that look like the same ones they use to build houses…saws and drills and routers. I checked insurance, talked with my husband and pondered. I asked for referrals to a good doctor, one who was a specialist in hip replacements. I went for my consultation. I had to walk for the doctor, just like they do on America’s Top Model. “Yes,” he concurred, I could use a hip replacement. Friends and family, sounding like the board of directors for Nike, said, “Just Do It.” But I had trepidation. I had never had surgery. What if it was like when you take your car to get fixed and they fix one problem, but tend to create another? Did I want to risk it? At least now I knew what I was dealing with. Then, one night, as I hobbled in pain, leaning on both walls going up the stairs, I decided to go ahead with the operation. Prior to scheduling the surgery, I had to get clearance from my doctor.
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This led to a trip to a cardiologist, and the discovery that I had a urinary tract infection. After 10 days on antibiotics and a couple of sonograms on my heart, I was cleared. I went from dreading the hip replacement to just wanting to get it done and get on the healing side. The surgery went well. I didn’t even know I was going under. When I woke in the recovery room, my husband and one of my daughters were there. My mouth was so dry that when I spoke, my daughter said I sounded like Daffy Duck. And apparently, while still under the influence, I asked some man what his favorite vegetable was. That’s when my daughter figured out I was fine. With a minimally invasive hip replacement, you only stay in the hospital…minimally. So, after two nights I was sent packing, walker and cane in hand. Yes, I had entered the world of elevated toilet seats, (the ones that look like an octopus), a walker, cane and tight stockings to make sure I didn’t get a blood clot. A nurse would come twice a week to test my blood and check to see if I was recovering properly. That’s when the recliner became my throne. And my brain decided to become an air mattress. Because I had watched a couple of YouTube videos that showed people a few days out from hip surgery walking like pros and playing golf, I felt like something was wrong with me when I didn’t hop up and take a five-mile hike. Instead, every hour I was awake, I walked around the loop in my house three times. After a couple of weeks I began using a cane. The nurse said I should since I found myself carrying my walker around to make up some time. But the cane had its own issues. And when I began to get muscle spasms, I decided to use the walker again for a bit. No, I was not going to be climbing any mountains for a while. My husband kept telling me he was amazed by how well I was doing, but to me, nothing got better quickly enough. Still, I kept plugging along until week number five, when I realized that all I could think of and talk about was, well, me. My aches, pains and fears. My saving grace was that I had my 6-week checkup scheduled for five and a half weeks – my lowest ebb. But after I saw the doctor, and he answered all of my questions, told me I was doing well and then released me to drive, I chippered up. No matter what I saw on videos, or no matter what people who have had the surgery before have told me, everyone is different. And that is what I have to remember. This morning I got out of my own world. I drove my husband around. What a treat it was to not focus on me. We talked about his company’s Christmas dinner, whether he should look for a new truck, and where should we go for dinner on Friday night…date night. I am still walking a bit funky, but for being only 25% healed, that is really good. And within a year, my body will heal itself, which when you think about it, is a real miracle. So, at the age of 58 I had my first surgery. I lived to tell about it. And with any luck, the other parts under the hood will stay steady as she goes.
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The First
Giant Blowout Garage Sale by Felice Prager
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With news of my husband’s pending transfer, our lives would change forever. We would be moving away from family and friends to a place where we would have to start all over. My husband and I were nervously excited about the move from New Jersey to Arizona, but our relatives and friends staged an all-out campaign to reverse our decision. It was verbal warfare staged deliberately in front of Jeff, our four-year-old son. In our family’s defense, they didn’t want us to move. However, their tactics were far from subtle. Jeff heard tales of a far-off land where mail was delivered by Pony Express, schools were one-room schoolhouses where work was done on slates, and children sat in the corner with a “Dunce” cap if they talked too much. According to my creative cousin, Arizona was where water came from wells, and out-houses were modern conveniences. Jeff, who was afraid of the pediatrician, heard of tribal medicine men who cured things using hunting knives. My cousin told Jeff that in order to have friends in Arizona, you had to become blood brothers. She also told Jeff that it was so hot in Arizona you could fry an egg on the top of your covered wagon. The worst thing she said, and the thing that brought Jeff to tears was, “You’ll never see snow again!” We tried to explain to Jeff that my cousin was making up these things so we wouldn’t move because she loved us, but we could tell Jeff was not sure what to believe. Since the movers charged by the pound, we had to get rid of many of our memories. Our new Arizona home did not have a basement, and the attic was filled with insulation. It seemed inevitable that we would be joining the ranks of those who put their things in the driveway in hopes of selling it to people who knew treasures when they saw them. My husband, Sam, a retailer, has worked in stores all his life, and before the First Giant Blowout Garage Sale his perception of buying and selling required a salesperson, a cash register, receipts, security cameras, advertised specials, newspaper inserts and bags with store logos on them. Sam never went to sleep the night before the First Giant Blowout Garage Sale. Unlike other garage sales, Sam wanted our driveway to look like a merchandising masterpiece. He used all the techniques he had learned from his college and professional experience. Items would be placed strategically so our customers would be psychologically coaxed into looking at them. Items would be appropriately priced for a quick sale. Sam was so involved in the process that at about two in the morning, he woke me up and said, “We have gaps. I need stuff to fill the gaps. What else can we sell?” While he talked, he was unplugging the TV in our bedroom. “We can always buy a new TV.” In my bathrobe, in the middle of a cool spring New Jersey night, I trudged outside to see a driveway that resembled a department store. Items had
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signs like “Priceless collectible. Yours for only $5!” The $5 had been a $10 but it was crossed out to look like the price had been reduced. What seemed odd was that most of MY stuff was priced ridiculously low; Sam’s stuff, on the other hand, was priced insanely high. I made no comments. I would address the problem with my own red marker in the morning. While walking through the garage to go back indoors, I noticed a pile. On top of the pile were two Flexible Flyer sleds we had each brought to our marriage. Mine was the cleaner, less-used one. Sam had informed me at the beginning of our lives together that his was better. His was ugly. The paint was almost gone. On our son Jeff’s first sleighing experience, he used Sam’s sled. Sam had convinced him “No real man would be caught on a girly dumb sled like Mom’s. Real men need cool sleds that go fast.” I wasn’t going to disagree. Mine still looked as pretty as the day it was purchased for me. What Sam’s sled didn’t have was the memory of another use it had. As a child, I lived in a small apartment. The doors to each apartment faced out into a grassy courtyard where neighbors sat on their stoops and had coffee in the evening. Neighbors were friends. It was a Sunday. A blizzard had been predicted. The radio was on, and the broadcaster spoke of the snow in terms of how many feet we would get and whether schools would be closed the next day. When the snow started and the streets started getting too slippery to drive, the dads in the neighborhood borrowed our sleds and headed off on foot to the only market in town. My dad pulled two sleds, mine and my brother’s. Mine was brand new and pretty, free of all paint chips and signs of use. My brother’s was a hand-me-down from my dad’s youngest brother. It was worn in and looked it. My brother liked it better that way. He said it was faster and much cooler than my new one.
The market was a little family-run store that normally wasn’t open on Sundays, but they were opening this Sunday so customers could stock up on essentials for the big storm. I remember my dad coming home with at least two dozen cans of Campbell’s Tomato Soup, crackers, hot cocoa, marshmallows, milk and several packages of Hydrox cookies and Mallomars. During that storm, the winds changed, and the snow blew so hard and heavy that our neighbors’ doors were blocked. When the storm ended, we dug out our neighbors. That created a giant mountain of snow in the middle of our courtyard which was where we chose to use our sleds during that blizzard. That was where we played King of the Mountain. I remember my skin being bright red and wet when we went back inside to change clothes and get warm. My fingers and toes tingled. We removed what seemed like endless layers of wet clothes. We did not have a washing machine or dryer in our apartment, so my mother hung gloves, scarves, hats, mufflers and sweaters over radiators and in most rooms around our small apartment. Space heaters were helping us warm up so we could go back outside to play in the snow again. On the stove, we spied the hot tomato soup and cocoa my dad had pulled back from the market on our sleds. Dad and the sleds were the warmest memory I kept in my heart, and I wanted my son to have the same. It made me sad to think that by moving to the desert, our son would never know the sensations of a snowstorm or have memories such as these. Lost in his own memories, Sam said, “We can’t get rid of these sleds.” “No, we can’t,” I agreed. I never went back to sleep that night. I went into the kitchen and made hot cocoa for both of us. The garage sale was successful. We sold things we did not need. We sold things that in years since we have looked for and then suddenly realized, “We sold it at the First Giant Blowout Garage Sale.” People wandered beyond the driveway and into the garage. A young boy and his father were standing in the garage, looking at the two sleds. “Daddy, ask him what they cost,” the little boy whispered loud enough for us to hear. We realized that we would have no need for sleds in Phoenix. So we sold them. My husband told the little boy that the pretty sled wasn’t as cool as the beat up sled. The little boy’s father stood there nodding his head in agreement, and said, “That one can be for your sister.” This past fall, Jeff, now a young adult, left for college. In spite of our need for a warm climate, Jeff opted to move to Colorado. While packing his truck with all of the things he would need in a first apartment, Sam looked at me and said, “In Colorado, he could have used our sleds.” There was no need to explain why I suddenly felt so sad.
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Faves
A few things our staff loves right now one man’s trash is another man’s treasure…
and there is NOTHING BUT TREASURE to be found at our local consignment shops. If you haven’t shopped consignment before, you may not know the brand name deals you can find at amazing prices. Those of us that frequent consignment shops know that you can find unique, beautiful items at a fraction of the cost. Many items are brand new (some still with tags!). So, grab the girls and plan a day of deals—start in the south, head up north, there is no shortage of consignment shops along the way!
You have to see this gorgeous handcarved Maitland-Smith mirror in person to appreciate how beautiful it is. Susan, Sales &Marketing Director Consign @ 5th Surfside
I am obsessed with Tiffany lamps and love that you can find unique and older (more beautiful designs) through consignment stores.
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Erica, Account Executive Take 2 Resale Pawleys Island
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This tea set is so beautiful, but still fun and casual enough to use every day. Kim, Account Executive Murf’s Consignment North Myrtle Beach
. I love the pale green color of these unique wooden candlesticks. They even look great without the candles! Kim, Account Executive Bloomin’deals Calabash This Coach purse is a steal and the color goes with everything!
Finders Keepers Consignment & Boutique Myrtle Beach
Celia, Senior Account Executive
And another find . . . “I feel good wearing this lovely pendant made by Groovy Green Glass, a local company that makes lots of unique products from recycled wine and liquor bottles!” Leslie, Editor Purchase at: Yoga in Common, Market Common The Mole Hole, Barefoot Landing & Broadway at the Beach
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gets candid
Meet Madeleine Ritchie Attractive, passionate and dynamic, Madeleine Ritchie dispels any preconceived notions about what a woman in her 70s should be doing with her time. Currently the Education Consultant for the Bunnelle Foundation in Georgetown County, Madeleine is working to help the Georgetown County Early Learning Initiative achieve their goal of providing quality, educationbased pre-school and child care for every child in the county. Her days are spent lobbying legislators, educating the public and facilitating real change for our youngest citizens. A lifelong educator, Madeleine spent her career helping children; first as a teacher, then a principal and 20 years as a consultant for the Reid Foundation where she traveled the country teaching other teachers how to better help their students succeed. A Columbia native, Madeleine grew up visiting Pawleys Island and fortunately for the children of Georgetown County, she was able to move to South Litchfield permanently a few years ago.
Madeleine, how did the Georgetown County Early Learning Initiative (ELI) get started, and why is it so important? In 2009, First Steps Centers of Excellence (there are six in Georgetown County), lost their state match for their Bunnelle strategic grant. This loss meant that many children would not receive scholarships to attend the Centers. The Bunnelle Foundation held an Early Education Summit in November of 2009 for all local and state agencies that had a connection to early learning, including Georgetown County state legislators, in hopes that support could be found. Our legislators told us at that time that collaboration was the key if we expected to receive state or federal grants. As a result of this summit, a steering committee was formed. Through this committee, the idea for ELI was born. As of the 2010-2011 school year, there were 4388 children under six in Georgetown County and approximately 1700-2300 of them are not in quality child care; 55% of children under 18 live below the poverty rate and 60.4 % of births are to single mothers. These are the kinds of statistics we would like to change. If our children are to be ready for school, they need quality early childhood education, not just babysitting. Strong oral language development is necessary for children to comprehend what they learn to read. Little children need to be talked to, that’s how they gain language. Research tells us that for every dollar invested in early childhood education, at least seven dollars are saved. It costs approximately $10,000 for a year for a child to be a student in the Georgetown County Schools. This is far less than the impact of our low high school graduation rate or incarceration. It costs $22,000 for a year of incarceration, and students who benefit from early childhood education have been shown to be more likely to graduate high school and less likely to end up incarcerated. Children who attend quality childcare or kindergarten programs
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are not retained as often, there is less need for special education, there are fewer teen-age pregnancies, fewer young people incarcerated, and there are fewer dropouts. All this builds a stronger workforce and a stronger community. What is the committee doing now? We have over 30 agencies involved in our Early Learning Initiative. Our initial efforts have been focused on public awareness of the problem and building relationships among interested parties. We are currently searching for quality programs in other parts of the county. There is no need to “reinvent the wheel.” Somebody out there is making it work. The schools have actually already offered to provide the classroom space for more classes once funds are located and programs are identified. Andrews Elementary is currently offering a remarkable mix of effective programs through the schools that are really making a difference. First Steps Centers of Excellence, Even Start, Miss Ruby’s Kids, Head Start and many church-based programs are all doing a fine job of helping parents prepare their children to be ready for school. The problem is that there are still too many children not being offered an opportunity to be a part of these kinds of programs. We are hopeful that, together, we can find a way for all children in Georgetown County to be ready to succeed in school. Do you work on other projects with the Bunnelle Foundation? I provide support, as needed, for our strategic grants. The Foundation’s mission is to improve the quality of life for Georgetown County citizens. Our vision is of a community where the hopelessness of poverty has been transformed into opportunities for safe, healthy and sustainable living. I believe the Bunnelle Foundation is one of the best things to ever happen to Georgetown County, and am thrilled to be a part of this vision and mission! What do you do when you’re not working? I spent as much time as possible with my two children and five grandchildren. I even have one great-grandchild! My family is very close – I have four living siblings. My older brother is deceased. Here at home, I enjoy walking on the beach and reading. I’m on the board of Miss Ruby’s Kids and volunteer with my church, Holy Cross Faith Memorial. I was raised to have a positive attitude. My mother lived to be 99 years old, and she told me I would get more out of life if I paid attention to what I wanted to happen. That’s how I try to live my life. Learn more about Early Learning Initiative by calling 843-237-1222 or e-mailing EarlyEdCounts@yahoo.com.
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Advertiser Index
The Power of Yoga for Body and Mind.
131 Digital . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 21 Murf’s Consignment Boutique . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 33 Barbara’s Fine Gifts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9 The Palace Theatre . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15 Bloomin’deals Consignment Boutique . . . . . . . . . . 27 Palm Shoes & Collection . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 17 Bright Blue Sea Bookshelf . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25 Palmetto Ace Home Center . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15 Brookgreen Gardens . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .10 Pawleys Island Bakery . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27 Carmen Carmen Salon . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15 Pawleys Island Realty . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13
$40 Unlimited Pass A 20% Savings!
(Bring in ad to redeem, expires 3/31/2011)
Consign @ 5th . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19 Pawleys Island Swimwear . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11
Dawn “Shanthi” Divita
All classes are held at the J.Bryan Floyd Community Center 1030 Possum Trot Rd. • North Myrtle Beach, SC 29582 (843) 280-5555 • www.yogadivita.com for class schedule and more information
David E. Grabeman, D.D.S., P.A. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7 Pawleys Lifestyles . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13 Eleanor Pitts Fine Gifts & Jewelry . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11 Pee Dee Orthopaedic Associates, PA . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13
Finders Keepers
Finders Keepers Consignment & Boutique . . . . . . . 41 Pure Compounding . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27
Consignment & Boutique
Fresh Cut Florist . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 35 Rose Arbor Fabrics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9
• Turn your clothes into cash
Grady’s Jewelers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7 Sassyfras . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9
• Upscale consignment
Grand Strand Primary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 17 Sculpted Figures . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 44
• Accepting new and gently used name brand and designer clothing in all sizes. Also, purses, shoes, costume jewelry, home furnishings and decorative items
Hannah Bs . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19 Shades & Draperies . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5 Homespun Crafters Mall . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 42 South Atlantic Bank . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19
6105 North Kings Hwy. Myrtle Beach, SC 29577 843-213-1289
Island Floors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25 Strand Styling Studio . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 31 Island Shoes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25 Studio 77 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 29
finderskeepers62@aol.com
JJ Rich . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 35 Sunset River Marketplace . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 31 Just Ask Hal . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 33 Take 2 Resale . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 21
RMS Unlimited, Inc. Celebrating 9th Year of Business!
The Kangaroo Pouch . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 17 Taylor’s Boutique . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7
Upholstery, Inc.
Katie’s Project . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2 Taz . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5
Custom Made: Upholstered Furniture, Window Treatment
Litchfield Dance Arts Academy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25 Upholstery, Inc . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 41
• Reupholstered Chairs, and Sofas, Headboards • Benches, Ottomans • Slip Covers, Bedding
Long Bay Symphony . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 42 Victoria’s Ragpatch . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27 Maguire Law Firm . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5 WEZV . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 42
Phone: 843.283.8517 Fax: 843.293.1559 E-mail: rmsunlimited@yahoo.com Ryan M Smith
McLeod Health . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3 Women in Philanthropy & Leadership . . . . . . . . . . 18 Middle Child Portrait Parties . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 21 Yoga Divita . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 41 Miller-Motte Myrtle Beach . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10
‘’Big or Small Projects, We make Upholstery and Window Treatments Easy’’
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www.sasee.com 41
843-238-3622 www.homespuncrafters.com
114-A Hwy. 17 N. Surfside Shopping Center Surfside Beach, SC 29575 Mon - Fri: 9 am to 6 pm Sat: 10 am to 5 pm
Antiques Collectibles Country Decor Fabrics + Notions Glassware Handbags Jewelry Unique Handmade Crafts Vintage Items Wood Products WoodWick Candles
Give Your Mom, Sister, Best Friend or Yourself the Gift that Lasts a Year!
SUNDAY, MARCH 13, 2011 Myrtle Beach High School Music and Arts Center 4:00 PM
Special Introductory Offer 12 Issues for $24
THE WORLD OF THE ORCHESTRA
Name Address City State
(WITH THE CAROLINA MASTER CHORALE) A symphonic showcase exploring the individual facets of the orchestra, from strings to woodwinds, brass and percussion as well as chorus, culminating in a performance of one of the most vibrant and colorful large orchestra/choral masterpieces of the 20th century.
Send check or money order to Sasee Distribution PO Box 1389 Murrells Inlet, SC 29576
CALL 843.448.8379 OR VISIT WWW.LONGBAYSYMPHONY.COM
42 www.sasee.com
Zip
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Coffee With the Authors, local author, Marsha Tennant, discusses Margaret, Pirate Queen, 10-11 am, Sunset River Marketplace, 10283 Beach Drive (NC 179), Calabash, N.C. For reservations or more info, call 910-575-5999.
Art Museum of Myrtle Beach’s 11th Annual Tour of Homes, 10 am-4 pm. Tour spectacular homes in Myrtle Beach, luncheon at Pine Lakes Country Club. members $35, non-members $40, luncheon $15. For reservations or more info, call 843-238-2510.
Moveable Feast, Jefferson Bass discusses The Bone Yard, 11 am, Carefree Catering, $25. For more info, call 843-235-9600 or visit www.classatpawleys.com.
St. Patrick’s Day Parade and Festival, 9 am-4 pm, Main St. North Myrtle Beach. Parade starts at 9am, 843-280-5570.
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4th Annual Taste of the Coast, 11 am-4 pm, Barefoot Landing. For more info, call 843-455-6768.
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“Tea and Symphony,” to benefit Long Bay Symphony, 1-4 pm, The Art Museum, Myrtle Beach, $30. For more info, call 843-448-8379.
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25-26
25-4/3
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64th Annual Prince George Plantation Tours, Georgetown County, 9:30 am-5 pm. $35 each day or $60 both days. Advance tickets by mail only, 843-545-8291 or www.pgwinyah.com/ PlantationTours.htm.
The Price, Murrells Inlet Community Theatre, 843651-4152 or www.mictheatre.com.
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The Scoop
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Visit www.sasee.com for a full calendar and more Sasee events!
Taste of Desserts, to benefit the Fidelis Foundation, Horse Riding Therapy for Troubled Youth, 1-5 pm, Cooper House, Hwy. 544 at Socastee Swing Bridge, $10. For more info, call 843-222-6305.
The World of the Orchestra, concert by Long Bay Symphony, 4 pm, Myrtle Beach High School, 3302 Robert M. Grissom Pkway., 843-448-8379.
CASA 100 Butterfly Membership Luncheon, 11:30 am, Inlet Affairs, Murrells Inlet, $20. For more info or reservations, call 843-235-6411.
Annual Brunswick Island’s Home & Garden Show, Sat. 9 am-5 pm, Sun. 10 am-4 pm, West Brunswick High School, Shallotte, N.C., $5 admission. For more info, call 910-754-6644 or visit the website at www. brunswickcountychamber.org.
www.sasee.com 43
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