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Volume 18, Issue 7
8 12 14
A Day at the Beach by Donna Magnotta I Knew I’d Be Picked by Rachel Remick Olivia Cox: Continuing a 40 Year Tradition at Custom Outdoor Furniture by Leslie Moore
My Funniest Vacation by Mari Wallace
Dr. Natasha Thomas: Passionate About Wellness by Leslie Moore
Read It! Nicole Says…Read The Summer Guests by Mary Alice Monroe Sunset Beach by Mary Kay Andrews
26 30 34 36 38 40
Looking for a fun Staycation? by Leslie Moore
Not So Grand by Diane DeVaughn Stokes
To Glow or Not to Glow by Rose Ann Sinay The Grandest Time in the Grand Strand by Diane Stark Who Sat in Goldilocks’ Seat by Erika Hoffman Kids Read It! Nicole Says… Read these books to your kids Sasee July Calendar
Publisher Delores Blount Sales & Marketing Director Susan Bryant Editor Leslie Moore Account Executives Stacy Danosky Erica Schneider Gay Stackhouse Art Director Patrick Sullivan Photographer & Graphic Artist Kelly Clemmons Web Developer Scott Konradt Accounting Gail Knowles Executive Publishers Jim Creel Bill Hennecy Suzette Rogers PO Box 1389, Murrells Inlet, SC 29576 fax 843-626-6452 • phone 843-626-8911 www.sasee.com • firstname.lastname@example.org Sasee is published monthly and distributed free along the Grand Strand. 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 © 2019. 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.
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Advancing the Art and Science of Dentistry through Education.
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Letter from the Editor As you read this letter, I have just returned from a visit with my son in Spain. I am very excited to visit a country I’ve never experienced, and I’m even more excited to see my son. It took me some time to decide to make this long trip alone. My decision was cemented at a friend’s memorial service when another friend, one who travels a lot, gave me a lot of good advice about the benefits of travel, telling me that no matter what I had to do to get there, I should just go! I decided to book the ticket – maybe because of my friend’s convincing words or maybe because this memorial service made me realize there’s no better time than right now. At first, all I could think about was the long flight with no company; the many things that could go wrong so far from home; the huge expense…you get the idea. I was pre-planning a horrible trip. Fortunately for me, divine inspiration brought me to my senses. I am a firm believer in the idea that what we sow, so shall we reap, and this belief rings true for me in most every aspect of my life. One morning, during my walk to the beach, I was guided to start planning a fun trip, the trip of a lifetime no less! I imagined the flight being fun and easy, the people accommodating and nice, and the sights more spectacular than I could ever have imagined. And since then, I’ve spent some time each day pre-planning my visit to Spain, a vacation with memories I can savor for years to come. So what are you pre-planning? I hope you’ll try my practice of planning for the best. And right now is always the best time to start.
White Hat Painting, Woman on the Beach, by Sonia von Walter Russian born, Canadian artist, Sonia von Walter has been painting since she was a small child and exhibiting her art locally and internationally since 1998. She has had solo exhibitions in Canada, Italy, France, United Kingdom, Portugal and Bermuda, and her work is displayed in corporate and private collections around the world. The artist works in oils and acrylics, and recently began using watercolors for plein air studies. Her paintings have been featured in various publications including the Bermudian, Royal Gazette, the Canadian, Globe & Mail and American Lawyer Magazine. Sonia’s work is inspired by her travels, meditations and everyday life moments. To see more of her work, visit her Etsy shop or find her on Facebook, Instagram (#soniavonwalterart), Saatchi Art and Fine Art America.
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A Day at the Beach . . . I Mean Reef ! by Donna M. Magnotta
s we walked on the white powdery sand of Trunks Beach of St. John, U.S. Virgin Islands, I smiled thinking of a different kind of white powder we left behind – snow. A friend from home recommended this beach, describing it as a quiet oasis that didn’t attract large crowds. I chose a shady spot near the lifeguard hut, drinking in the view of swimmers and snorkelers in turquoise water and opened my rented beach chair. Even the condition of the chair, rusty and stained with a slight musty odor, didn’t dampen my feeling of euphoria. Here we were, my husband and I, without kids in this peaceful, idyllic place, having left behind a sleet filled, snowy, New York. I sighed deeply as I reached for my romance novel, ready to enjoy the afternoon. Suddenly, an authoritative voice, amplified by a bullhorn, startled me. “Get off the reef! You cannot stand on the reef! You are in a protected area. When you are snorkeling, you must be swimming at all times. If you need help, let me know and I will come get you!” A female lifeguard was standing on her perch of the lifeguard hut. She wore a red, one piece swimsuit. Her calves were the size of Yule logs. I had no doubt she could rescue anyone from drowning. I supposed she could also single-handedly harpoon a whale, if necessary. My husband and I exchanged glances and then turned our attention to the offending snorkeler. He climbed off the reef and resumed snorkeling. The lifeguard stood, eyes fixed on him, with her bullhorn at the ready, but after a few minutes, laid it down beside her. Back to my book. I managed to read a whole page. And then...
What I saw next made my heart sink; a huge group of sunbathers headed our way. As they approached, I noticed their fins and masks – more snorkelers! “Let’s take a walk,” he suggested. We walked past the lifeguard hut to the far end of the beach where trees grew along the perimeter. We stopped so I could take a picture of my husband under one of them. “Don’t lean against it,” I warned. We both laughed at the idea of the lifeguard screaming through her bullhorn to “step away from the tree!” We soon returned to our spot and settled in our chairs when I heard a child yell, “Mom, come back!” I looked at the water and noticed two young children splashing in it. It appeared their parents were snorkeling by the reef. “She can’t hear you, Laney,” said the boy. “Well, I want her to come back.” Two small kids in the water with no parents? I kept my eyes peeled on them. A small wave knocked down the young girl. I looked over at the lifeguard. Miss Lifeguard was not paying the least bit of attention to these kids. She had her eyes locked on the reef. I stood up. “What are you doing?” my husband asked. “No one is watching those kids. Not even the lifeguard!” “Yeah, and you can’t swim.”
“Get off the reef! If you are standing on a rock, you are on the reef! You are in a protected area. You must be swimming the entire time you are snorkeling. If you need help...” “Looks like you picked the perfect spot for our day at the beach,” said my husband.
“Well, what if something happens to them?” “They’re not your responsibility, and you didn’t come here to babysit,” he said. A mental image of our youngest daughter suddenly came to mind while
“Suddenly an earsplitting siren, the kind that might signal an approaching train, began to blare. My mind flashed back to the first traffic sign I saw from our taxi on the way to our hotel: Tsunami Evacuation Route.” 8
my husband was “babysitting” her. She was a toddler and had happily colored the palms of her hands and bottoms of her feet with my red lipstick while sitting on our brand new carpet. Soon enough the errant parents returned and I could relax again. I grabbed my iPod from my bag and stuffed in the ear buds. The first few notes of a Billy Joel song began to fill my head. Ahhh. Suddenly an earsplitting siren, the kind that might signal an approaching train, began to blare. My mind flashed back to the first traffic sign I saw from our taxi on the way to our hotel: Tsunami Evacuation Route. The hair on my arms stood on end and my eyes snapped to attention at the sound. It didn’t take long to realize that the siren was coming from Miss Lifeguard’s bullhorn. She had it trained on a small boat which was headed straight for the reef. After about two minutes, she turned off the siren and began shouting, “Turn your motor craft around! You are in a protected area! GO BACK NOW!” At some point the sailor recognized his mistake and turned back.
Ocean Isle Beach, NC
Without one word to each other, my husband and I packed up our belongings and folded our rented beach chairs. As we were leaving, we passed an elderly gentleman, emerging from the water. He had a huge grin on his face and big rock in his hand. He was walking towards his wife who was sitting on a beach towel nearby. “Whatcha got there, Lou?” she asked. My husband and I exchanged a knowing glance. Although she didn’t use the bullhorn, we heard the lifeguard say, “I’m sorry, Sir, but you’re not allowed to remove anything from the water or the beach. It’s a protected area.”
Donna M. Magnotta
lives in New York with her husband and daughter, and belongs to a multi-cultural, multi-generational group of memoirists, called the Literary Godmothers. When she’s not writing, Donna can usually be found in her kitchen covered in flour and confectioners’ sugar.
910-575-5356 120-1 Causeway Dr, Unit 1, Ocean Isle Beach, NC, 28469 Monday - Friday: 10am - 5pm, Saturday: 10am - 2pm
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I Knew I’d Be Picked by Rachel Remick
t was happening, just like it had in Busch Gardens’ version of Germany when I was eleven years old. It had been during an Oktoberfest celebration when a very blonde niedlich young man in lederhosen extended his hand, inviting me onstage to dance with him. Although I wanted nothing more than to be an active participant in this rousing celebration, I remained glued to my seat, petrified of being gawked at by the rest of the revelers. Twenty years later and here I am again, this time in Disney’s recreation of Hawaii, with a muscled, grass-skirted kane holding out his hand, asking me to hula with him onstage. I started taking inventory of all the reasons why it would be an awful idea, starting with my appearance. The dress I had on was all wrong, but it had become the back-up plan when I’d somehow managed to eat my way out of the dress I’d wanted to wear, a pretty black flower print my mother had brought back from Hawaii. In the white flowered cotton replacement from JC Penney, I felt like just another tourist in a fake Hawaiian dress at a staged luau in a replica of a Polynesian village. But my annual two-week crosscountry jaunts with friends Marni and Lisa were adventures I looked forward to and saved for all year, which meant whether or not I attended the luau naked, I owed it to them as well as myself to have a good time. There were pre-luau festivities designed to get the crowd excited about the show while introducing facets of the culture, one of them being a Hawaiian man who was painting tribal patterns on people’s faces. We paused to watch with a small crowd that had gathered, among them a gorgeous blonde in a tight black mini skirt, probably size two. She was chatting up the artist, clearly interested in more than his skill with a paint brush. He juggled it all like a pro, concentrating on his latest human canvas while maintaining a polite awareness of those nearby.
After a while the crowd thinned out and moved on to other attractions, including Marni, but Lisa and I claimed a nearby bench to continue watching the face painter. He saw us in his peripheral vision and asked with a smile if I would like to have a sitting when he was finished with his current project. I had to admit his work was beautiful, but I felt a bit too insecure to have black tribal paint covering half my face. “How about you?” he asked Lisa. “Why not,” she answered, and slid into the hot seat, and I envied her guts to do it. Since Lisa really couldn’t move her face while he worked on her, I struck up a conversation, asking how long had he been face painting, where did he learn to do it, was he really from Hawaii. He answered diplomatically, and when I asked how long he’d been with Disney and how he liked it, he gave the kind of response most men do when they want to intercept an unwanted advance: “My wife is in the show, too, so it works out well.” Then I understood: he thinks I’m like the blonde who was coming on to him earlier. He’s probably hit on all the time and needs to maintain the barrier between guest and performer. What he couldn’t begin to understand was that my plus-sized insecurities would never find me mimicking the behavior of a size two. So I asked about his wife, where he met her and how long they’d been at Disney. When we exhausted that topic, I entertained him with stories of my trips with Marni and Lisa, three single girls and the comedy of errors that arose each time we ventured out onto the road. Soon he was laughing, completely at ease, and I felt a boost of pride. Did I actually seem interesting to this cultured man?
“What he couldn’t begin to understand was that my
plus-sized insecurities would never find me mimicking the behavior of a size two.” 12
After he finished with Lisa’s face – which looked like a rung in a totem pole – my group went to find our seats. Although a fair distance from the stage, they were set up on a platform high enough to provide not only a view of the show but the entire audience. There was an aisle right below us and our Hawaiian man walked by on his way backstage and tapped on the ledge in front of our table, hitting me with a dazzling smile. It was at that moment I knew I had made the connection I’d hoped for. I had made him feel like a person, and he had made me feel more than just a big girl.
Thinking about cosmetic surgery?
Halfway through the show the performers came down into the audience to select people to come up on stage to learn to Hula. As our man jumped down from the platform, I immediately turned to Marni and Lisa. “He’s going to come get me,” I told them. I knew this not because I felt that he wanted me, liked me, or because I was the most beautiful woman in the place. I knew he’d come for me because of the way I’d made him feel. Sure enough, he headed right for our table, came behind my seat and helped me out of it. I went freely, forgetting I hated the way I looked in my dress, and then there I was at the front of the stage, dancing in front of the entire luau. Back at my table, my two best friends told me how great I looked up there, and I had to admit I felt fabulous. I felt a certain vindication for the skinny girl I once was, who couldn’t leave her seat those many years ago, afraid to shine. In both bodies, I had been afraid to be seen, but in this larger one I had decided to take the risk, to be happy and be noticed. To be picked.
Born and raised in Philadelphia, Rachel Remick majored in Radio-Television-Film at Temple University before moving to Las Vegas, where she was employed at a popular live music venue on The Strip. Now a resident of Tampa, Florida, she co-owns a wholesale and online gift boutique. Both her fiction and narrative non-fiction stories have previously been published in several literary magazines, among them Bluestem, Rosebud and The First Line.
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Olivia Cox: Continuing a 40 Year Tradition at Custom Outdoor Furniture by Leslie Moore
out aluminum furniture on the streets of Myrtle Beach when the straps became damaged or broken. Carrol realized the aluminum frames were still in good shape; so, he picked them up and figured out a way to repair them. “A majority of our business still comes from contract work for resorts, hotels, HOAs, etc., along the Grand Strand,” Olivia told me, as she reminisced about her late grandfather. “Our business is approximately 85% commercial, which is unusual for an outdoor furniture store. Our products last for years.” Custom Outdoor Furniture is a member of the ICFA, or the International Casual Furnishings Association. “I was fortunate enough to kick-start my career with Custom Outdoor Furniture by attending the ICFA Educational Conference in Ft. Lauderdale, Florida, and brought back a lot of new ideas.” Olivia went on to tell me she has since attended conferences in San Antonio, Texas, and California. “I’m grateful to have been introduced to such a welcoming industry, where there is so much to learn from its veterans.” “My grandfather would be proud,” Olivia said. “I’m honored to help grow his business.” Carrol passed in 2016, before he had the opportunity to know his granddaughter was following in his footsteps as the third generation. “He was always determined to succeed, and his hard work definitely paid off. He set a great example and I learned a lot from him.”
fter graduating from The University of South Carolina in 2015 and spreading her wings for a few years, Olivia Cox knew it was time to come home – home to the family business started by her grandfather, Carrol Holshouser, 40 years ago. “I decided to come on full time starting in January of 2018,” Olivia began. “I know this is where I’m supposed to be.” Olivia owns and manages Custom Outdoor Furniture with her mother, Sarah Marie “Sam” Cox, her uncle, Gregg Holshouser, and her grandmother, Jane Holshouser. “We all enjoy working together to make the best working environment for our employees – this is a fun place to shop and to work.” The long standing, family business is the legacy of Carrol Holshouser. In 1979, this savvy entrepreneur saw hotel and resort owners throwing
“You will feel like you’re visiting with friends and family,” Olivia said when I asked her about the store. “We have a friendly, professional sales staff, and we stand behind everything we sell. Our products are of higher quality than what you’ll find at big box stores.” Olivia continued, telling me that Custom Outdoor Furniture has close, long standing relationships with their manufacturers, which ensures they have clear and concise communication leading to great turnaround. “Our products are beautiful, stylish and built to last.” Stop by and say hello to Olivia at Custom Outdoor Furniture – she would love to help you customize your outdoor living space with the perfect furniture to suit your needs. Located at 2415 S, Hwy 17 Business in Garden City, they are open Monday-Saturday, 9am-5pm. Call 843-561-9005 or visit www.customoutdoorfurniture.com.
2415 HIGHWAY 17 SOUTH GARDEN CITY, SC 29576
#LIVEGREATOUTDOORS 843-325-3989 | CUSTOMOUTDOORFURNITURE.COM
My “Funniest” Vacation by Mari Wallace
t certainly wasn’t funny at the time, but when I think about that memorable vacation, it was more like an episode from a TV sitcom than real life. Before I begin, let me introduce myself. I’m an American (a Northerner – sorry!). My home town bears the idyllic name of Pleasantville. But I ended up marrying an Englishman and have lived in his country for many years. The vacation experience I want to share with you took place in France…but could just as easily have happened anywhere in the countryside, away from the “madding crowds.” One evening my husband, Alan, came home with the exciting news that we’d been invited by Bill, a work colleague, to spend 10 days in his cottage in the beautiful area of Le Lot in southwestern France. Bill had recently gotten divorced, his wife having left him for his best friend. My big-hearted husband, feeling sorry for him, invited Bill to dinner – a one-off invitation that somehow evolved into a “standing invitation” – in that Bill managed to appear with regularity, just as our evening meal was ready.
Then came the next surprise: There was no sink. Bill turned on the faucet jutting out from the wall and proceeded to fill a plastic bowl in which he “swooshed” the plates and a couple of glasses. Needless to say, this was not at all what I’d anticipated. We sat around an oil-cloth covered table, eating our meager fare in relative silence. After this, we were more than ready for bed. I wanted to settle the children first so Bill escorted me to their room. The mattresses to the bunk beds were also bare to the elements. Bill hastily brushed them off before I could see what had been on them. Just then, something made me look up. “Oh my!” I exclaimed. “There’s no ceiling!” “I keep meaning to have it boarded up but I think it’s kind of charming to have a pigeon loft in your roof.” I looked at Bill in utter disbelief, consoling myself that I’d packed sleeping bags for the children.
“This is Bill’s way of saying thanks,” Alan explained as he got out road maps. “He’s told me the place is rather rustic. There are only two bedrooms but Bill’s insisted that we have his bedroom, and our kids can have the other one. He’ll sleep on a cot in the main room - the salle de sejour - while we’re there.”
Next event was in our room. Bill turned on the light. There, roosting over the bed was a bat, now disturbed by the sudden “glare.” Alan rushed over to the window, opening it just in time for the bat to make its hasty departure. This mattress, too, was uncovered…except for the bat droppings scattered all over it.
Full of eager anticipation, we followed Bill in convoy – a journey that took a total of about 11 hours. You can imagine how tired we all were on arrival at the cottage. Bill unlocked the door, turning on the electricity. We followed, with our suitcases.
“I’ll clean this up in a jiffy,” Bill said. To me, everything needed to be cleaned up. A jiffy wasn’t going to be good enough.
The first thing that greeted us were Bill’s dishes, all laid out on a plank of wood, elevated off the ground by a couple of bricks. They’d been left there since Bill’s departure at the end of the previous summer. Needless to say, they were covered with a thin layer of dust. I felt my first pangs of disquietude.
“Just be patient,” he whispered back to me, as Bill returned with a dust pan and brush. And sheets.
“I’ll wash up some plates in a jiffy,” Bill said. “Then we can have a minifeast,” he said, nodding in the direction of the bag of snack food we’d brought with us.
“I’m going to sleep in the car,” I muttered to Alan.
“Could we have a quick wash?” Alan asked. “Oh sure. The bathroom is through that door. There’s a toilet but no sink as yet so you’ll have to use the faucet in the kitchen. If you want hot water, I can boil some up in the kettle.”
“The first thing that greeted us were Bill’s dishes, all laid out on a plank of wood, elevated off the ground by a couple of bricks. They’d been left there since Bill’s departure at the end of the previous summer.” 16
By now I was too tired to do anything other than go to bed. Our children were already in the Land of Nod, and I was ready to go there, too. Surprisingly, I slept really well – a combination of physical and emotional exhaustion. Breakfast was jam on bread, plus scrambled eggs thanks to the microwave. It was then that I realized that there was no oven…no hob…only a sort of indoor barbecue that needed scouring. “If you can wait another hour,” Bill said, after we’d finished eating, “you’ll be able to have a shower.” “I thought there was no hot water,” said Alan. “Come and see. I don’t mind admitting that this is ingenious.” Bill led us outside. There, basking in the morning sun, were two extra-large plastic containers with hose attachments – the kind you’d use for spraying insecticides. “The water in these containers will soon be nice and warm, and you’ll all be able to go together behind those bushes and have a good wash.” I had never showered, naked, in front of my children. But I had no choice. My body felt sticky, my hair was greasy, and my tears were flowing. The four of us, naked, outdoors, washed as quickly as possible. What can I tell you about the rest of our vacation? There were “positives:”
a boat trip down the River Lot; buying fruit and vegetables in the village market; wandering around the medieval sites of Cahors; eating gorgeous cheeses and pate, croissants from the boulangerie; drinking local red wine. Our children enjoyed the lack of “normal” hygiene and daily barbecues with charred food. But I was more than ready to leave Bill’s “rustic” cottage for my taken-for-granted creature comforts: endless hot water; pristine kitchen with all the amenities; a bed not shared with any “critters.” On that ferry ride across the Channel to England, I had a perpetual smile on my face. We would soon be home…and for me that meant a long, hot, indulgent soak in a scented bubble bath. Vacation? Hah!
worked in publishing in New York City, then moved to London, work permit in hand. Her features have been published in many U.K. magazines - and she recently had a story in Chicken Soup for the Soul: Life Lessons from the Dog (April 2019).
Not So Grand
by Diane DeVaughn Stokes
overnor’s mansion sounds like a nice place doesn’t it? It wasn’t. And it was one of the craziest vacations we ever had thirty years ago.
Long before the internet when you could not tour each hotel room from top to bottom with explicit detail, Chuck and I decided to visit Grand Turk, which is the sister island to Provo in the lower Bahamas. Together they are referred to as Turks and Caicos. We spent four days in Grand Turk, then four days in Provo, which is known for its gorgeous beaches. However, Grand Turk is dotted with salt ponds leftover from the sea salt industry of yesteryear. Not an attractive island. And there was nothing to do there except to see their lighthouse perched high on a rocky bluff. Not tour it, just see it from afar. Our main interest was scuba diving. We heard that they had a magnificent wall that was so close into the shoreline you could actually walk in the water with your dive gear and descend upon this great structure with nothing but miles and miles of the great blue beneath you, feeling like an astronaut in outer space. The dive each day was magnificent, but the island itself was a “dive” if you get my drift! Yes, I hear you. So why did we go to this place? It sounded quaint and charming, as it was billed as a quiet, friendly island with no hotels and riff and raff, no cruise ships, no gambling, short flight from Miami, and a magnificent shore dive where I did not have to worry about getting seasick on a boat in order to get to a beautiful reef. The Governor’s mansion was an old house where the Grand Turk Governor actually lived many moons ago, perhaps, hundreds of years ago. You know the type: dark, musty, small rooms where if you rolled over, you might hit the wall, leaving no space for you to step out of the bed at night to go to the bathroom without crawling over your spouse and knocking him out of bed! Breakfast was served in the antique dining room with big red felt roses that gave the wallpaper a three-dimensional look, a pattern from the early Napoleonic days. We were told that the dishes were used by the Grand Turk Governor and his family, which was strange since they were very feminine, covered in roses that matched the wallpaper. Certainly this must have been his wife’s personal choice.
Yuk. No more goat hash for me. At lunch and dinner we dined at local establishments, as there were only two restaurants in town. One belonged to a well known, local woman who prepared meals each day for hungry divers, and that was the best of the bunch. Our first evening, while having dinner in an open air concrete block building, a goat wandered through it – probably the one we ate the next morning, a wild pony and his pal, the miniature donkey, were chased away by the hostess, and chickens were cackling all around us. We would hate to tell you what we spent to get to this island for great diving, but it’s something we will never forget. Neither will our wallet! Today Grand Turk has several REAL hotels, many restaurants and shops that cater to visitors. Yes, even tee shirt shops! Cruise ships are also stopping here to boost tourism and there are twenty-two things to do listed on the internet for Grand Turk, including zip lining, Catamaran Tours, and Jimmy Buffet’s Margaritaville with their famous swim-up bar! But knowing all of that, I would not want to go back there now. The fact is, as goofy as it seemed when we were there, from the food, lodging and very little to do, as I look back, it really was somewhat charming. The locals were lovely, warm and friendly and genuinely thrilled we were there to see and share their homeland – real people in survival mode struggling with their early efforts of tourism. You know what? It’s hard to find a place as rustic and real as Grand Turk anymore. And even though at the time we said it was “not so grand,” thirty years later I can actually say it was one of our most relaxed, and memorable vacations. Grand Turk was “GRANDER” like it was than I’m sure it is now.
“When I mentioned to the server that I
thought the hash had gone bad, she said, ‘No ma’am. I kill goat this morning’.”
One morning we had chunks of hominy with pigeon peas and pork patties, kind of like sausage but more ham taste. Another morning found us eating marinated Mahi Mahi on toast points topped with hard-boiled egg slices. Yes fish for breakfast! But the blim blim biscuits were not half bad as blim blim is in the star fruit family. One of the other breakfasts began with poached eggs over hash. I expected the hash to resemble the corned beef hash my grandmother used to prepare, and this was far from it. When I mentioned to the server that I thought the hash had gone bad, she said, “No ma’am. I kill goat this morning.”
Diane DeVaughn Stokes
Diane is the host and producer for “Inside Out” as seen on HTC TV Channel 4, and serves as a commercial spokesperson for several local businesses. She and her husband Chuck own Stages Video productions in Myrtle Beach and share passions for food, theater, travel and scuba diving. They own three four legged kids that they adore!
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Dr. Natasha Thomas: Passionate About Wellness by Leslie Moore
they were all good things, but I began to feel tired and unwell. I was functioning, but there was no joy in my life.” Dr. Thomas continued her hectic schedule, seeing at least 30 patients a day. “No one is admitted to the hospital unless they are very ill, and I was seeing patients who were very sick. I had always liked a more natural approach to medicine and began looking at the American Academy of Anti-Aging Medicine. It really sparked my interest because this type of medicine focuses on early detection of illness and discovering the root cause, rather than just focusing on symptoms.” After attending a conference on Anti-Aging Medicine, Dr. Thomas was convinced. “I knew then I wanted to practice preventative medicine. In 2012, after becoming board certified, I opened my office in Myrtle Beach, focusing on holistic and preventative care.”
ood health is something many of us take for granted – until we become ill. And, usually, a trip to our family doctor takes care of our problem. But what if it doesn’t? According to Dr. Natasha Thomas, we do not have to just accept feeling unwell as a part of aging, or because we are working too hard, or for any number of reasons. Help may be found through simple changes in lifestyle and diet. This doctor is passionate about creating wellness. She is board certified in both Internal Medicine, and Anti-Aging and Regenerative Medicine and is one of only a few doctors in the United States certified in the Shoemaker Protocol for treating biotoxin illness. “I am originally from Latvia in Eastern Europe,” Dr. Thomas began. “I moved to the United States when I was 19 to study nursing and went on to graduate from medical school in Michigan.” After her residency in Internal Medicine, Dr. Thomas married and moved to the Grand Strand, starting work at Grand Strand Hospital. “I had a lot of stressors – a new job, a new marriage, a new home…
The success Dr. Thomas had with her patients was amazing, but she still couldn’t seem to help herself. “Here I was, helping people feel better, but I continued to feel worse.” This hardworking physician ruled out cancer, Multiple Sclerosis and other serious illnesses, but her health continued to decline. “Gradually, I became so debilitated I couldn’t even exercise. I was barely functioning. I was seeing remarkable results in my patients when they changed their diet, added sleep balancing hormones and supplements, but I still felt terrible.” It wasn’t until Dr. Thomas attended another functional medicine conference that she found her answer. She learned about the impact biotoxins can have on our bodies and realized she had all the symptoms of this little known illness. “It was mold in our home that was causing my symptoms. After I addressed the issue and received treatment for biotoxin exposure, I began to feel better.” “I found some mind blowing research on biotoxin exposure. Doctors are not taught to look for this in medical school. Since then, I have become certified in Dr. Shoemakers’ protocol of treating biotoxin illness.” Dr. Thomas went on to say that many people are not affected by exposure to biotoxins like mold. She
tests her patients for a genetic predisposition and helps them have their home or office tested for the presence of these toxin producing molds. “I had smelled a little musty odor in our bathroom at home, but I didn’t realize that was what was making me so sick. The presence of mold can affect sleep, mood, gut health and more – it causes an enormous amount of toxicity and inflammation.” But what happens when you visit a functional medicine doctor? “The first thing I ask about is environmental exposure. If that is not causing the problem then we do more testing.” Dr. Thomas told me about one patient she sees regularly. This 45 year old woman came in with fatigue, mood changes, sleep problems and weight gain. She had been to her family physician, and was eventually diagnosed with depression. Dr. Thomas did more intensive testing and through changes in diet, the addition of supplements and hormonal support, restored this woman’s health. “Medical schools do not train physicians to address dysfunction,” Dr. Thomas said. “If you feel bad and aren’t getting any answers, it could be environmental exposure or something as simple as diet causing your problems. I look at the whole body in a holistic way.” “I see miracles in my office all the time through small changes. Don’t give up. Our gut is the most important organ in the body and improving gut health can make all the difference.” Dr. Thomas sees patients ranging from an 18 year old with gut issues to patients in their 80s who have been told their problems are “just a part of getting older.”
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As we finished our conversation, I asked Dr. Thomas what we could do immediately to improve our health. “Cut out processed foods. I love the Whole 30 diet, but at least eat natural foods. Get enough sleep and stay hydrated – we should drink half our body weight in ounces of fresh filtered water each day. Keep moving with exercise, hopefully outdoors. And finally, take time for yourself. Do things that nourish your soul.” Dr. Thomas offers free 15 minute telephone consultations to get you started on the road to good health. Visit her website, https://natashathomasmd.com, to schedule, or call her office at 843-712-1897. Her office is located in Myrtle Beach at 1111 48th Avenue N., Suite 115.
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Nicole Says…Read These Books
These two authors are always on my must-read summertime list. Mary Kay Andrews is one of the few authors who make me laugh out loud, while I have not found a single author who writes about nature with such passion as Mary Alice Monroe. No beach bag is complete, without these authors’ latest books! The Summer Guests by Mary Alice Monroe A hurricane has been predicted to hit the Southeast coast, so people evacuate to the mountains, and that is how this group of strangers meets. The Phillips own a horse farm and have invited their friends to escape the storm by staying with them. As the strangers get to know each other, they begin to realize the physical items you save aren’t necessarily the most important things. However, the relationships built during a disaster form unbreakable bonds. Mary Alice Monroe’s characters are in the midst of a hurricane evacuation. Under the stress of being cooped up, secrets come out and they are forced to deal with the past. They each focused on bringing whatever possessions and animals that they could fit in their cars, but as time goes by the focus shifts to what they truly value. Readers will be transported to the beautiful mountains as they ride out the storm. Mary Alice Monroe is one of my favorite authors. You feel her love of nature within each chapter. This was a unique book, as it is set in the mountains instead of the beach. I have always loved the mountains, and I hope to one day visit them. Through reading this book, I feel like I could add another checkmark to my reading travel book! Over the last few years, we have all been affected by severe storms, whether hurricane, floods or fires. Mary Alice Monroe raises the poignant question of what would you save during a disaster? We can all relate to the emotions her characters experienced. She also shows that we all help each other when facing the unthinkable.
Sunset Beach by Mary Kay Andrews Life happens in ebbs and flows. At her mother’s funeral, Drue is blindsided when her estranged father shows up married to her childhood rival. When they offer her a job, she only accepts to claim access to grandparents’ beach home. Now damaged by past storms, the house means everything to her, but is she able to continue working for people who make her miserable? Add in a suspicious death and possible corruption, and Drue has to decide which side she wants to be on, because trouble is brewing in Sunset Beach. Readers love the southern wit that Mary Kay Andrews’ sassy characters exude. Some readers have been fans for years, dating back to her mystery series written under the name Trocheck. With this book readers will get to enjoy both. There are a few mysteries intertwined in the drama of Drue’s life, and this quiet beach town is brought to life in the descriptions. This book is an ideal read for a day at the beach. Mary Kay Andrews’ books are always a fun read. She throws in twists and turns, while her characters find themselves in awkward scenarios. I easily read this book over the course of two afternoons and look forward to discussing it with our book club later this summer.
Reviews by Nicole McManus
Nicole loves to read, to the point that she is sure she was born with a book in her hands. She writes book reviews in the hopes of helping others find the magic found through reading. Contact her at ARIESGRLREVIEW.COM.
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Looking for a fun Staycation? Enjoy the Small Town Charm of Conway and Georgetown by Leslie Moore
It’s July and the height of tourist season along the Grand Strand. If you’re not planning a trip this summer, or just want a day away from the hustle and bustle of the beach, Sasee suggests a “staycation” day in Conway or Georgetown. Both of these small town jewels offer delicious food, unique shopping and lots of fun learning why these towns are so special.
The city of Conway is one of the oldest in our state and is the county seat of Horry County. Founded in 1732 as the village of Kingston, today this small town, set along the banks of the Waccamaw River, 15 miles west of Myrtle Beach, is a picture perfect, small southern town. On July 13th, a special “Beat the Heat” Walking Tour is offered from 8-9am. This fascinating tour is only $5 a person and is sponsored by Conway Downtown Alive. You will be surprised by how much you learn! Conway’s Main Street is a lovely, tree-lined street, perfect for walking. Get there early enough for breakfast at The Trestle Bakery and Café – French toast made with sourdough bread, a breakfast croissant featuring eggs, cheese and ham or bacon are just a couple of the delicious menu items. Plus, they have really good coffee. Learn more about Conway and Horry County at The Horry County Museum. Their freshwater aquarium was recently featured on Animal Planet’s “Tanked.” The small town jewel is open TuesdaySaturday.
and is still owned and operated by the same family. While you’re on Laurel Street, Allen at Carolina Appliance and Furniture is another home town business owner that would love to see you. The Main Street area is filled with fun shops and you’re sure to find a oneof-a-kind treasure. River City Christmas, on 3rd Avenue, is an interesting boutique to visit for holiday items, delicious coffee beans and more. Thistle & Clover has cute and casual clothing, and if you’re a gardener stop by Conway Feed & Garden Center. This store is a great browse. Rated the top eatery in Conway by Trip Advisor, diners at Rivertown Bistro, on 3rd Avenue, can choose from the upstairs deck overlooking the historic district, book a private dining room or enjoy the elegant, twotiered main dining room. This locally famous eatery is open for lunch and dinner. For a more laid back atmosphere, try Bonfire, located on the river. Another local’s favorite, Bonfire is open Wednesday-Sunday.
The people of a small town are what make it special. Stop by and say hello to Dawn at Grady’s Jewelers, on Laurel Street. It is one of the oldest jewelry stores in the area
While you’re in Conway, be sure to take a stroll on the Riverwalk. This scenic walk connects the Waccamaw River with the historic downtown business district. The trail begins under the Main Street Bridge and ends at the beautiful riverfront park and marina complex. Stroll by historic buildings, the Conway Arboretum and enjoy the view at a riverside gazebo.
offers boat tours of local plantations and more. These are popular with locals and visitors alike – make your reservations in advance. The Rice Museum tour is another interesting way to spend a part of your day in Georgetown. During your tour you’ll learn about the incredible rice culture that once made Georgetown one of the wealthiest places in the world. Just being in the clock tower building is fun – but you do have to climb stairs, so be aware before you start. If you have children or grandchildren, stop in Doodlebugs where you’ll find adorable children’s clothes and accessories. Ricebirds and Ricebirds This southern city of charm and history was founded in 1729 and II are fun to browse for gifts – you’ll probably find a gift for you! A little off became an official port of entry in 1732. Almost a 300 year-old city, the beaten path on North Fraser Street, Sarabeth’s is another hometown Georgetown embodies the mysterious South Carolina Lowcountry boutique with beautiful, unique items. and is recognized nationally, not only for its history, but also for the Dining options are abundant in Georgetown also. The Big Tuna is the beautifully preserved 18th and 19th century architecture, set along tree- watering hole many locals, and second-homers like to frequent. The lined streets in the Historic District. Providing a charming backdrop for a River Room, with its historic waterfront ambiance, is another favorite thriving commercial district, Front Street is a trove of boutique shopping restaurant that has thrived and established itself in the community treasures, chef-driven restaurants, vibrant arts, culture and a welcoming, as the tried and true dining experience with thirty-plus years of fresh walkable lifestyle. Set on the Sampit River, the picturesque Harborwalk “serious seafood” and is considered a coastal tradition. Al Fresco Bistro, is a favorite spot for strolling, as well as a docking point for those who serving Italian and seafood delicacies, is the fine dining gem where a come by boat. warm inviting atmosphere and smiles are always in abundance. Another Be a tourist for a day and take a ride on the tram with Swamp Fox Tours. Tours are available Monday through Saturday, and you will learn some amazing facts about this beautiful city. Want to learn more about the fragile ecosystem of the waters surrounding Georgetown? A day on the water is always a good option in July, and Rover Tours has daily boat tours of Hobcaw Barony or maybe you’d rather see the lighthouse on North Island? Cap’n Rod’s Lowcountry Tours
delicious choice, Root, is on the 900 Block of Front Street and has the best crispy Brussels sprouts you’ll ever taste!
Whether you’re a long time local or recently settled in the area, spending time in our small towns is always satisfying. The people are friendly, the food is good and no matter what you do, you’ll be glad you took the time to visit. 27
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To Glow or Not to Glow by Rose Ann Sinay
“ t’s so hot,” I complained for the umpteenth time, waiting for someone to commiserate with me. It was my first summer in North Carolina, and it was all I could do to open the door to the never-ending wall of sweltering humidity. Sensitive (sniff, sniff) to the uncomfortable combination, I was a prisoner in my home and to the air conditioner – my lifeline. My southern friends raised an eyebrow and shrugged their shoulders. “This isn’t bad, just wait until July.” I groaned. For the first time, I wondered if we’d made a mistake in retiring to the south. “Look,” I said lifting my arms above my head. Low hanging, dark, wet circles stained my tee shirt. The southern belle of the group (looking like she had just stepped out of a fashion magazine) with crisp, dry arm pits averted her eyes. “You are glowing,” she corrected me with her slow drawl. “Bless your heart. Maybe you should summer back up north. It’s not like you’re golfing or jogging, uh . . . what is it that you do?” “Write,” I said, red faced. “Yes, in the house with the air conditioner on.” When we lived in the north, summer temperatures were pleasantly warm. In early August, there could be a damp, hazy heat-wave that would last a week, maybe two, tops. Here, that sultry combo seemed to last forever. “You’ll get used to it,” another friend (a New Jersey transplant) whispered. I realized I’d committed the ultimate gaffe. If I didn’t like southern climes, I didn’t have to stay. I certainly shouldn’t be complaining about it if I chose to remain. And, besides, I had been deliriously happy with the beautiful beach weather December through March. We changed the subject, and I decided to keep my feelings about the horrid heat to myself.
After a few years, I did acclimate to the heat and humidity (sort of). Occasionally, a complaint would slip out of my mouth out of habit and my own internal dialogue. No one listened anymore – it was just as well. I was invited to bake and “glow” at the beach by friends on a regular basis. “It’s cooler by the water,” they cajoled. But I knew it wasn’t true during the endless dog days of summer. I declined those invitations to sit in the glaring sun and hot breeze (dense with fine grains of sand) that salted my body. I couldn’t read a book or hold a conversation while the “glow” cemented the sand in sensitive places. Don’t get me wrong – I loved the beach when I was fifteen, living in Florida, sporting a size two bikini. My favorite activities were running along the beach and diving into small waves. I even loved the beach when I got sun poisoning after a day of blistering heat and an abundance of baby oil mixed with Mercurochrome. I had worn a new itsy bitsy swimsuit that day, revealing three inches of virgin ivory skin to the strong ultraviolet rays. Despite the vomiting, the angry red swath of painful skin that outlined my scanty two-piece, the blistering and dehydration – I couldn’t wait to feel the sand between my toes, again. My fifteen year old self couldn’t comprehend the repercussions of the damage done. And, I don’t remember being bothered by sweat streaming out of every pore. Mixed with baby oil, I probably thought it was sexy. Perhaps, that’s the glow my southern friend was talking about. Forty plus years later and arms that wouldn’t fit into the leg openings of that tiny beach wear, my outlook had changed. My only swimsuit with the extra long skirt had been pushed to the back of the drawer with the tags still attached. My limited beach attire had become shorts, a (baggy) t-shirt, large hat and a tube of sun screen in my pocket. I wouldn’t think of spending my day sitting under a blazing sun. Ah, but North Carolina winters were wonderful. I loved walking the beach in my sweatshirt and jeans, as a cool breeze blew tangles in my hair. My husband rarely missed a day on the golf course. We were in heaven. But, like the comfortable Connecticut summers, the delightful southern winters were short lived. It was definitely a trade-off.
“Don’t get me wrong – I loved the beach when I was fifteen, living in
Florida, sporting a size two bikini. My favorite activities were running along the beach and diving into small waves.
In 2017, after thirteen years of North Carolina living, my husband and I gave in to the guilt of our granddaughters growing up with phantom grandparents. To them, we were just overly animated faces that blew silly kisses over the small cell screen. The week we moved back to Connecticut, there was a prediction of a snow storm – a biggie – eight to ten inches. I was excited. I hadn’t experienced a real snow storm in many years. We stacked the fireplace and stocked up on hot chocolate, popcorn and a bottle of Bailey’s. I bought a ready-toeat rotisserie chicken and prepared a variety of sides. There was plenty of unpacking to do, and I had a box of unread books. Let it snow!
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The precipitation was slow but steady. It lasted several days and when we finally emerged from the house, we shoveled for hours. It was so pretty – so New England. After a short reprieve, another storm arrived and another after that. My husband got the flu, and shortly thereafter, so did I. Just making our way to the car to go to the doctor was exhausting. I remembered why we had previously moved south. *** It’s now the middle of May, and the pellet stove is roaring in the living room. I’m wearing a thick sweatshirt, huddled under a blanket. The forecaster said last week that temperatures would be rising soon. I browse through Facebook on the computer and admire pictures of my friends’ flower gardens. The hydrangea bushes at our old house would be in full bloom. I remember the heat – the wonderful hot, sticky heat. I could use a little bit of it right now.
Take a piece of your vacation home with you! Rose Ann Sinay
is a freelance writer newly relocated to Connecticut. She continues to write about moments worth remembering , graciously provided by family and friends.
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The Grandest Time in the Grand Strand by Diane Stark
lthough I’ve been writing for Sasee for over a decade, I’d never visited the Grand Strand. The closest I’d gotten was a family vacation to the Biltmore Estate in Asheville when I was six. I know, it’s not even the same state. But that all changed this past spring break. My husband, Eric, and I took three of our children to Myrtle Beach in late March. We stayed in a lovely hotel with a room that looked out onto one of the most beautiful beaches I’ve ever seen. We ate the freshest, most delicious seafood. We got frozen yogurt on the boardwalk and fed those giant fish in the pond at Broadway at the Beach. (I think we ate froyo there too.) We took our 10-year-old son, who wants to become a paleontologist when he grows up, to a dinosaur-themed miniature golf course. We ate pancakes at one of the many, many pancakes houses in the area. The weather was a little chilly, but it was a great vacation. We had so much fun. But the best part – the most special part – was meeting Sasee’s editor, Leslie Moore, in person for the first time. For more than a decade, I’ve written personal essays for the magazine. I’ve written about getting a divorce, being a single mom, then getting remarried, and being in a blended family. There really wasn’t much about my life that Leslie didn’t know, simply because she’d been reading my essays for so many years. Then about five years ago, I said, “Leslie, you know so much about me. Tell me about you.” And she did. She told me about her son and her daughter and her two adorable granddaughters. She told me about the joys in her life and the struggles too. She, too, has been a single mom and the mom in a blended family. She understands how complicated life can get, and she’s always been ready to listen. It didn’t matter that we hadn’t met in person. Leslie “got” me.
time, but the passage of time doesn’t affect the friendship at all. We met for lunch at a seafood place near the Sasee office. I’d prepared my kids ahead of time, telling them that we might be at the restaurant for a while. I wanted them to feel free to chat with Leslie too, but they were not to ask, “How much longer?” Thankfully, they complied with my request. Over fish tacos, Leslie, Eric, and I chatted about life, family, and matters of faith. We talked about everything: the hard things, our greatest blessings, and our shared love for the written word. We cried a little, but we laughed a lot. As always happens, the time went by too fast. When Leslie and I hugged good-bye, the tears came again. “I’m so thankful that we finally got to meet in person,” I said. “Every minute of that long drive from Indiana was worth it for this lunch with you.” This past March, my family spent the grandest week in the Grand Strand. It is a truly beautiful place. The food, the beaches, the attractions. We loved it all. But the people are definitely the best part.
“I’ve written about getting a divorce, being a single mom, then getting remarried, and being in a ‘blended family’.”
And instead of being just my editor, Leslie became my friend too. So meeting her in person wasn’t like meeting someone for the first time. It was like visiting with a friend you haven’t seen in a long
is a wife and mom of five. She loves to write about her family and her faith. Her essays have been published in over 20 Chicken Soup for the Soul books.
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Who Sat in Goldilock’s Seat? by Erika Hoffman
geism’s a thing; so is ageing. Ageing is real. A gal in her sixties may find certain modern things confusing. Although I’ve mastered word processing, email and sending off disarming photos of adorable grandchildren with captivating grins, there remains a dearth of knowledge on my part regarding sundry cyber chores, one being the procurement of airline tickets using the web. Recently through Cheap O’ Air I bought tickets for my husband and me to Boston. He was to stay two days, and I a week, so the reservations were more complex than “two round-trip tickets please.” Also, for him I made direct flights, but I wanted to schedule my flight later in the day on Saturday, so I chose one with a change of planes. Like the Cheshire cat, I felt delighted I’d accomplished this herculean feat without having consulted a son who usually makes reservations for us. After my husband departed, I stayed to help my daughter play with my coquettish, four-month-old grandson. The eve before my leave-taking, I consulted my email ticket, and what did I notice: my husband’s name! I’d booked my return ticket in his name! I called up Cheap O’ Air. They informed me I couldn’t add a “Mrs.” to the name. My husband was a different person from me. To no avail, I argued I’d not have put in his name. It must have been an auto-correct or an auto-fail or a default something! My daughter overheard my exasperation and grabbed the phone and explained that her mom wasn’t good at computers, and they could see that her dad had already flown home Monday – four days earlier. In a sing-song-y voice, the fellow talked over her telling her there was nothing to be done. “Let me speak to your manager,” my daughter asserted. “He’ll tell you the same thing.”
stupid; fortunately, I spoke with a lovely lady who told me I’d have to clear it with Cheap O’ Air first. Simultaneously, my daughter got the manager on her cell who said he’d okay it if American Airlines did. The American Airlines lady told me there’d be a $50.00 charge for the name change. “Bless you!” I exclaimed and meant it! I whipped out my Visa, read the number into the phone and felt relief. I was on the flight. I got to the airport over two hours early. The plane was sold out. Due to the crowd, it took a long time to load. My seat, 18E, was in the center. I struggled to lift my carry-on to stow above my seat. I placed my bulky purse under the seat in front of me and strapped myself into the middle seat. A youngish Asian girl signaled she had the window, so I unbuckled and scooted out to let her pass; a youngish, tall fellow in a ballcap and hoodie started to follow her. “If you are together, I can switch and take the aisle seat instead,” I said obligingly. “No,” he mumbled. “No,” she murmured. “We’re not together.” She sat. I sat. He sat. The long queue of folks continued. I buckled myself in as did they, on either side of me. After a few minutes, a big blonde gal, also young, approached and said to my male seatmate, “You’re sitting in my space.” He answered “Well, my seat is 18E, there,” and nodded over at me. I took out my paper which said, “18E”
My daughter repeated, “I want the manager.”
“Better call the flight attendant,” advised the big, golden-haired gal.
“It’ll be three minutes. Hold.” Thirty-five minutes later she still waited to speak to the manager. Meanwhile she motioned to me to call American Airlines on another phone and explain that I’m old and don’t understand how to order tickets on the web. So, I called American and told them I’m old and…
I pressed the overhead button, and then turned to the young fellow. “Are you connecting with another flight?” I was gauging the chances. Perhaps if he wasn’t connecting, he’d not mind missing this flight. I secretly feared my snafu with Cheap O’ Air
“Thirty -five minutes later she still waited to speak to the manager. Meanwhile she motioned to me to call American Airlines on another phone and explain that I’m old and don’t understand how to order tickets on the web.” 36
had screwed up the seat assignment. I might need to sit on the jump seat with the flight attendants… if they’d let me. What I really dreaded was being made to leave the plane and scramble to find another flight this Saturday before Thanksgiving when college kids were headed home and families with screaming infants were en route to Grandma’s. No one was going to want to give up a seat. A male flight attendant appeared. I handed him my email. I could even read “18E” without my reading glasses. The college-aged youth handed him both his passes. In a nano-second the flight attendant handed back his tickets. I braced for bad news, mentally preparing myself I’d need to retrieve my heavy overhead carry-on, fight the incoming queue of folks, and then perp-walk down the long aisle to exit the plane. I dreaded calling my husband to explain the new schedule because of my flub-up.
“Yeah,” I continued, “even I hadn’t entertained the idea that the young person was wrong. I figured I must’ve misread my boarding pass or had bungled things with the name change I made earlier or had done something else wrong!” I almost felt gleeful. It wasn’t me who goofed. Ageism is real. Young folks usually are confident it’s the older person who’s messed up. But it’s really a bad-sad case of ageism when you, the older person, discriminate against… yourself!
The attendant gazed at my neighbor, snug and smug in his seat, and said, “You’re looking at the wrong ticket. Your next flight’s seat is 18E. On this flight, you’re 10 E.” He pointed to the young man’s correct boarding pass. I could barely believe my ears as the boy sloughed off. I turned to the young Chinese girl. “Phew! Had I told my sons about this snafu, they’d have blamed it on dementia!”
is a wife to one, a best friend to about six or seven, a past teacher to hundreds, a mother to four, a mother-in-law to three, a grandma to four under four, and a writer to thousands – hopefully!
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Nicole Says...Read These Books to Your Kids Reviews by Nicole McManus Growing up, I was obsessed with books, animals and learning. I made my own animal notebooks to keep track of everything I learned. These books would have definitely been must-reads for me, and summer is a great time for families to reconnect with nature! The Swamp Where the Gator Hides by Marianne Berkes Illustrated by Roberta Baird
Readers will see all the creatures that live near the swamp with the gator. Using lots of repetition and rhyming, the story and incredible pictures will delight young children. The fur and scales look incredibly lifelike, while the story is a fun twist on the classic The House that Jack Built poem. I thoroughly enjoy books by Marianne Berkes, Seashells by the Seashore and Over in a River are other must-read titles. This book includes further activities and online projects that bring the story to life.
Flash and Fancy
More Otter Adventures on the Waccamaw River: A Dolphin Rescue (Flash and Fancy #3)
by Christine Doran Illustrated by Nancy Van Buren
Flash and Fancy are two otters who love sliding in the mud on the bank of the Waccamaw River. One morning, they hear cries for help from a stranded young dolphin. In order to help the dolphin reunite with family, Flash and Fancy might need an assist from humans. Will they be able to save the dolphin? This cute story is accompanied by adorable illustrations. This series is a fun way to share the local Waccamaw River with young readers all over the country. The third in the series focuses on ways to keep the waterways clean, and how humans play a big role in protecting wildlife. The otters bring focus on the local organization, while teaching adults and children how to properly help if they come across a stranded animal. There are big adjectives that will expand a childâ€™s vocabulary, but this is a story to be enjoyed by all.
Carolinaâ€™s Story: Sea Turtles get Sick Too!
by Donna Rathmell Photography by: Barbara J. Bergwerf
This is the true story of Carolina, a sick turtle who was rescued and rehabilitated. This book does a good job at describing doctors, medicine and blood draws as being helpful, not scary. The photographs are amazing and you feel like you are in the Sea Turtle Hospital with Carolina. This is a great way to learn about the hospital and the excellent work they do to rehabilitate as many sea turtles as possible. The book includes a fun project where kids can make their own turtle, as well as access to a lot more activities online.
What is a Whale?
(The Science of Living Things series)
by Bobbie Kalinan and Heather Levigne
The authors relate several different details of what makes a whale a whale. They break it down into different types and use drawings or real life photographs to demonstrate the articles. Included in the book are personal stories and the need to protect our oceans, as well as a glossary for bolded vocabulary words. This scientific book is chocked full of so many facts that even grown-ups will learn something! Children who dream of being Marine Biologists or Oceanographers, or those who love all whales will want to have this book in their library.
How I lost 74 pounds at Dr. Sattele’s Rapid Weight Loss Centers! Read Shirley’s Emotional Story... My name is Shirley and I am a wife, mother, grandmother and great grandmother. I worked for Darlington County School District for 31 years, I drove a school bus for 15 years, and for the remaining 16 years I worked as a Student Data Manager. I struggled with my weight since I had my first child in 1973. The weight just kept pouring on. I was at 230 pounds and very unhappy with my weight and the way I looked in the mirror. Being so overweight, I became depressed and I just began to eat what I wanted, when I wanted. I was diagnosed with diabetes in 1983 and was put on 2 different kinds of insulin, taking 4 shots a day. My doctor kept telling me I needed to lose weight and get my A1C from 13 down to 6. Over the years I tried so many weight loss programs unsuccessfully. After my retirement in June 2018, I decided it was time for me to get my health right. On my way to a doctor’s appointment in August of 2018, every billboard I saw read “Rapid Weight Loss”. I
asked the Lord if he was trying to tell me something. I called and the staff was so friendly and they got me scheduled to come in for a free consultation the next week. I started my weight loss journey with Dr. Sattele on August 8, 2018! I enjoyed eating real food, and the diet was very easy to follow. I really enjoyed the medical staff. They were very supportive and encouraging if I had any questions. When my weight loss journey began I was at 219 pounds. As of January 30, 2019, I have lost a total of 74 pounds! I have learned how to discipline myself and stick to the diet. The weight loss has also increased my confidence and has shown me that I can do anything when I believe in myself. I am now INSULIN FREE and have more energy. I feel so much better. My life has changed tremendously and I am so happy and proud of myself for not giving up. I would recommend this program to anyone who has a weight issue. This program has helped boost my self-esteem and has truly helped me realize that I can do all things through Christ. who gives me strength! Thank you Dr. Sattele so much for this program, Shirley P McCoy.
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1-9/1 ~ The Legacy of a Planter’s Wife, Emily Esdaile Weston, exhibit at The Art Museum of Myrtle Beach, Myrtle Beach, 3100 S. Ocean Blvd., 843-238-2510 or visit www.myrtlebeachartmuseum.org.
16-21 ~ Junior SOS, OD Beach and Golf Club, Shag dancing workshops for youth with dance contests, club socials and more. Visit www.juniorshaggers.com or call 919-682-4266 for more info.
2, 16, 23, 30 ~ Calabash Concerts, 6-9pm, Calabash Town Park. For more info, call 910-579-6747 or visit https://calabashtown.com.
18 ~ Concerts on the Green, Summer Concert Series at Market Common, Valor Park, 7-10pm, Valor Park. For more info, visit www.marketcommonmb.com.
3-31 ~ Brookgreen Summer Music Festival, concerts Thursdays-Saturdays, 7pm, free with admission. For more info, call 843-235-6000 or visit www.brookgreen.org.
19 ~ Andrew Thielen Band, Sounds of Summer Concert Series, NMB Park & Sports Complex, Little River, 7-9pm. For more info, call 843-280-5594 x 3 or visit http://parks.nmb.us.
4-25 ~ Music on Main, Thursdays, North Myrtle Beach, 7-9pm. For more info, call 843-280-5570 or visit http://parks.nmb.us. 5-26 ~ Ocean Isle Concert Series, Fridays, 6:30-8pm, Museum of Coastal Carolina parking lot, E. Second St., Ocean Isle Beach, N.C. For more information, call 910- 579-7757 or visit https://explore.oceanislebeach.com. 5-26 ~ Sea Turtles, 4-5pm, Fridays, program at Huntington Beach State Park. Call 843-237-4440 for more info.
26 ~ Moveable Feast, Leila Meacham discusses Dragonfly, 11am, DeBordieu Colony Clubhouse, $30. For more info, call 843-235-9600 or visit www.classatpawleys.com. 8/2 ~ Blackwater Band, Music in the Park, 6pm, Francis Marion Park, Georgetown. For more info, visit www.georgetownseaport.com. 8/2-4 ~ Craftsmen’s Classic Arts and Crafts Show, Myrtle Beach Convention Center, Fri. & Sat. 10am-6pm, Sun. 11am-5pm. For more info, call 336-282-5550 or visit www.gilmores.com.
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