February 2012 Priceless www.sasee.com
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Women in Philanthropy and Leadership for Coastal Carolina University presents: C
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March 19-20, 2012
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48940-SeacoastObGynSasee 9x10.125_Layout 1 1/13/12 11:01 AM Page 1
Dr. Denise Teasley, Dr. Breton Juberg, Dr. Linda McClain, and Dr. Chris McCauley.
JOINING TOGETHER FOR
Exceptional Women’s Health Along the Coast. Four of the area’s most respected and accomplished OB/GYN physicians have recently joined to become McLeod OB/GYN Seacoast, a part of McLeod Physician Associates. Dr. Linda McClain and Dr. Denise Teasley, formerly Palmetto Associates for Women, and Dr. Breton Juberg and Dr. Chris McCauley, formerly North Strand OB/GYN, are all board certiﬁed and oﬀer nearly 75 years of combined experience. Dedicated to providing compassionate care to women throughout the many stages in their lives, this exceptional team oﬀers prenatal care and testing, along with a full range of gynecological services using the latest in technology and techniques, including minimally invasive procedures. Drs. McClain, Teasley, Juberg and McCauley are currently accepting new patients and referrals.Watch for the opening of their beautiful new oﬃce this coming spring.
Specializing in: Normal and High-Risk Pregnancies • 4-D Ultrasound • Abnormal Test Results Minimally Invasive Hysterectomy • Pelvic Floor Reconstruction / Pelvic Organ Prolapse • Pelvic Pain In-oﬃce procedures including Thermal Ablation for heavy bleeding, Sterilization, and Urodynamic Testing for Incontinence Dr. Linda McClain and Dr. Denise Teasley 3700-B Sawtell Road, Little River 843-390-5100 3710 Mishoe Street, Loris 843-756-4755
Dr. Breton Juberg and Dr.Chris McCauley 4000 Hwy 9 East, Little River 843-399-3100 3617 Casey Street, Loris 843-756-7090
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February 2012 Volume 11, Issue 2
Leaving the Nest by Jeffery Cohen
Boomer Exercise/Memory Program (BEMP) by Sandra Nachlinger
Why I Teach by Melissa Face
Gifts from the Past by Cecelia Cook
Southern Snaps by Leslie Moore
Life in the Slow Lane by Sharon Struth
Cell Phone Upgrade by Nadine Karel
Publisher Delores Blount Sales & Marketing Director Susan Bryant Editor Leslie Moore Account Executives 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
Fred to the Rescue by Rose Ann Sinay
A Day in Her Shoes by Diane Stark
Painting the World with Kindness by Kim Seeley
PO Box 1389 Murrells Inlet, SC 29576 fax 843-626-6452 • phone 843-626-8911 www.sasee.com • firstname.lastname@example.org
I n T h is I ssue Faves . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8 Read It! . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 12 Teacher Feature . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 16 Women & Men Who Mean Business . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 30 Sasee Gets Candid . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 38 Scoop on the Strand . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 42
Sasee is published monthly and distributed free along the Grand Strand. For subscription info, visit sasee.com. 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 © 2012. 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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contributing writers Jeffery Cohen, freelance writer, painter, and sculptor, wrote a weekly newspaper humor column for six years. He was a finalist in the Winter Women-On-Writing Flash Fiction Contest and won second place in Vocabula’s Well Written Writing Contest in 2011.
letter from the editor We live in an amazingly generous community. I have had the privilege of working with volunteers and hearing stories of kindness that confirm my belief in the innate goodness of most people. I’ve also found that the smallest thoughtful gesture can change someone’s day for the better. During the holidays, I was out shopping. It was only a few days before Christmas and most faces held a grim, determined look that mirrored the way I was feeling. I decided to give everyone I met a big smile and, if possible, a kind greeting. Wow, what a response! By the time I finished my shopping I felt like a million bucks. Nearly everyone I met smiled back and greeted me in return. My decision to change my attitude altered the course of my day and, hopefully, the day of a few others. This month you will meet a few local women who have unselfishly uplifted lives and their communities through hard work and generosity. However, I know there are many unsung heroes who, day after day, change our world for the better. To all of you; from all of us – thank you! Happy Valentine’s Day,
Melissa Face lives in Virginia with her husband, son and dog. Her stories and essays have appeared in Chicken Soup for the Soul and Cup of Comfort. E-mail Melissa at email@example.com. 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. Nadine Karel is a drug and alcohol counselor, working with high school students in the Philadelphia region. Things that make her happy include: strong coffee, giant pandas and learning how to text. Sandra Nachlinger is retired and spends her free time quilting, lunching and writing. Together with her lifelong friend, Sandra Allen, she has recently published her first novel, I.O.U. Sex. It’s the story of three Baby Boomer women who search for their high school boyfriends years after graduation. It is available as an eBook and in paperback.
cover artist In My Garden, by Sascalia Sascalia is a self taught mixed-media artist who was born and grew up in rural France. Influenced from an early age by her love of horses and the surrounding countryside, Sascalia was inspired by fairy tales she listened to as a child. At the age of eleven her family immigrated to England, and she began studying in school and learned to speak and write in English. After studying Art and Textiles, the artist married and had three children. Once her youngest child reached school age, Sascalia re-discovered her passion for art and began selling her artwork online. Her business quickly grew, and art became her full time occupation. Working from her home studio in semirural Southeast England, she creates her artwork using a variety of mediums. Her work is both rich in color and contemporary yet has a whimsical vintage feel, bringing magical dream-like visions to life. To see more of Sascalia’s work, visit her Etsy shop at http:// www.etsy.com/shop/Sascalia.
Cecelia Cook worked for Southern University Press, primarily in historical research but created the copy for the book, Postcards of Birmingham and wrote travel brochures. Since retiring and moving to Pawleys Island in 2005, Cecelia has taken numerous creative writing courses, is active in many area environmental groups and loves off-the-beaten path travel as much as the budget will permit. She cooks and cleans when absolutely necessary.
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. Rose Ann Sinay lives in North Carolina with her husband and dog where she spends her time writing. Her children graciously continue to provide her with moments worth preserving. 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.
Sharon Struth lives in Connecticut. Her work has appeared in several Chicken Soup for the Soul books, Sasee, A Cup of Comfort for New Mothers and www.WritersWeekly.com. Visit her website at www.sharonstruth.com.
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Women are the ultimate accessory for their men but Porsche sunglasses run a close second. What man doesn’t want a Porsche?
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The perfect Valentines gift for him, and also a treat for you, is a couple’s massage. Hibiscus Spa offers a couples ritual package which includes a relaxing massage, bottle of champagne and a plate of cheese and seasonal fruit. Now how relaxing and romantic does that sound? Hibiscus Spa, Myrtle Beach 843-449-8880
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Nest by Jeffery Cohen
Several years ago, when my power mower had broken down, I found an old push mower in the garage and decided to give it a whirl. The quiet whoosh of the blades and the smell of freshly cut grass took me back to my childhood, and I’ve been happily sweating over that old grass cutter ever since. One day last June while pushing the relic through a thick carpet of green, I stopped dead in my tracks. There on the ground was a baby starling that had fallen from its nest. It barely moved as I scooped it up and carried it into the house. “We can try to keep it alive,” I explained to my wife, “but there’s probably a ninety percent chance that it won’t make it. So I don’t want you getting too attached to this bird. There’ll be no cute little names. No pampering. We’re going to try to keep it alive. And if this bird does make it, we’re letting him go. He’s wild and deserves to be set free.” My wife agreed. Completely. The next day I picked up a dozen books on bird care from the library. “Raising an orphan bird can be quite rewarding,” one book stated. “With care, patience and time, you can see nature develop before your very eyes.” I was encouraged. “With proper feeding and environment, your little friend will soon be able to be set free.” It all sounded so simple…until I reached the last line. “Of course, without the proper example of other birds, this fledgling will stand little chance of survival in the wild.” “Just what does that mean?” my wife asked. “In bird lingo, it means his goose is cooked,” I replied. By the end of the second day, I broke my own rule and began calling the baby bird “the Cheeper” because of the sound he made when he was hungry, which was every fifteen minutes. This baby bird ate like a horse. So when I wasn’t feeding him, I was crushing hardboiled eggs, grinding parakeet food, mixing sugar water, and cleaning the Cheeper’s towel-lined shoebox home. Cheep, cheep, cheep. Two weeks later, the Cheeper was not only surviving, but growing feathers and attempting to fly out of his box. I called a local nature group and explained the situation. “You can’t keep that bird! You don’t know what you’re doing with birds. Bring him to us. Now!” a woman’s voice screeched. Where had I heard that voice before? Then I remembered. She sounded just like the Wicked Witch of the West. “We’ll get you…and your little birdie too!” I called a second group. This time a kindly voice suggested that I bring the Cheeper to their animal rescue facility, where they would take care of him, have him socialize with other birds, and then return him to us to release. It was like sending him off to college. We enrolled him. One month later, we returned to find our cute little Cheeper transformed into a fully grown starling that didn’t look very happy to see two strangers peering into his cage. Nevertheless, we took him home, deciding to release him on Independence Day. We opened the cage and in an instant, he was gone. “And he didn’t even remember us,” my wife lamented. After three hours, we were still sulking on the front porch, when we heard the sound of fluttering wings. We looked up to see…the Cheeper! He landed on my shoulder and jumped onto my wife’s head. Cheep, cheep, cheep. He flitted about us, dancing a feathery little jig before he flapped his wings and…was on his way. It was a kind of farewell thank you, I guess. Although we haven’t seen the Cheeper since the summer, I haven’t given up hope. So if you happen to see a bearded man and a curly haired woman calling up to the treetops and whispering into the shrubbery, “Cheeper? Cheeper? Is that you, Cheeper?” we haven’t lost our marbles. We’re just missing our bird.
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Lisa Says…Read Domestic Violets, by Matthew Norman by Lisa Hamilton 12 www.sasee.com
Domestic Violets, by Matthew Norman, is one of the funniest books I have read in a long time. It is the first novel Norman has written and is filled with wit and humor while giving us great characters and a poignant plot. Tom Violet is thirty-five years old, has marital problems, hates his job and can’t finish the novel he’s been working on for years. Maybe that’s because his father is a Pulitzer Prize winning author. Tom always thought he had it all but the reality is quite different. However, he
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decides to make some changes and take control of his own happiness. This is where the reader becomes hooked with quick humor and endless fun and surprises. Norman captures many emotions we’ve all felt at some point in our lives, or have asked ourselves. How did I get this kind of life? It is easy to laugh quite often while enjoying this book, but don’t be fooled. There are circumstances where your heart is touched, and you may shed a tear as well. Everyone can relate to many experiences in this book as Matthew Norman so genuinely and thoroughly pulls us into characters we root for and come to love. Domestic Violets is fast paced, fun and hard to put down!
Don’t you hate it when you forget things? I’ve noticed an increase in that problem lately, and since I’m a Baby Boomer approaching Geezerdom, it’s especially worrisome. Oh, I don’t forget serious things – I rarely call my dog by my son’s name, and I do remember my wedding anniversary – but little stuff often seeps from my brain like air from a tire with a slow leak. Things like…what was the name of the star of that movie? And what was the movie’s name anyhow? And why did I go upstairs? It seems the only way to remember is to retrace my steps.
Boomer Exercise/Memory Program
(BEMP) by Sandra Nachlinger
This past weekend I was getting ready to go to a meeting of my writers’ group. My husband, Bob, sat in his recliner, reading, while I showered, dressed and prepared to leave. I brought my notebook downstairs and…oops…I’d forgotten my cell phone, charging on my nightstand. I dashed back up to get it. As I descended, Bob looked up, smiled, and went back to his book. Then I realized that I’d meant to pick up the pages I’d planned to take with me. Back upstairs to fetch those from the printer. Back downstairs my husband looked up, raised his eyebrows, but said nothing. The third time up was to get a newspaper article I’d clipped to share with the rest of the group and left on my desk – in full view, right by the printer, where I couldn’t possibly forget it. This time Bob stared at me and shook his head. I heard his thoughts and answered, “The reason I haven’t gained any weight is that I spend my days going up and down the stairs, fetching things I’ve forgotten.” A wise man, he refrained from commenting on that statement. That’s when it occurred to me that I might be onto something – something I’m calling the Boomer Exercise/Memory Program – or BEMP for short. I thought of how many calories people of a certain age burn every day when they’re retracing their steps to retrieve forgotten items. Misplaced Kindles, grocery lists, checkbooks – our trips back and forth and back again to retrieve those things add up to an amazing number of steps, especially for Boomers who live in two-story houses. I’m sure I’ve burned thousands of calories just searching for my eyeglasses alone, both from the steps I’ve taken and from the frustration of trying to find the aid I need for seeing – when I can’t see to find it. And that’s just at home. There are my walks up and down the aisles of the grocery store, trying to remember the one item I drove there to get but that won’t reveal itself. Was it some kind of fresh vegetable? Should I be looking in the bakery section? Or maybe we’re out of toilet paper? I’ll confess that I’ve called my husband more than once to see if he can give me clues as to why I’m wandering around Safeway. (His cell phone number is programmed into mine. Otherwise, I know I’d never be able to recall it.) Those are definitely BEMP calorie-burning moments.
Then there’s the search of the parking lot for my car. Pushing an overladen cart up and down rows of almost identical silver Honda and Toyotas and Chevys – clicking the remote entry gadget, hoping the car will blink its headlights and beep to reveal its hiding place in the herd – that results in more exercise. A friend wishes someone would invent a car that comes when called or that she’d tied a red helium balloon to the door handle when parking. Good ideas, but the car-hunt exercise has the positive effect of increasing BEMP numbers in both the steps-taken and frustration categories. As you can see, applications of this program are endless. And this morning I discovered scientific research that takes my BEMP idea a step further. An article in Science News magazine, published earlier this year, touts the advantages of exercise for seniors as a way of actually improving memory function. To quote from the article: “A year of moderate exercise doesn’t just bulk up muscles – it beefs up the brain, too, a new study finds…Study participants who got their heart rates up performed slightly better on a memory test and had higher levels of a brainaiding molecule called BDNF, the researchers found…This whole idea that something as simple as exercise can actually benefit the brain and offset some of the changes that occur with normal aging is an emerging frontier – that’s what’s exciting about it.” It seems that in a twisted sort of way, forgetting things (and the resulting exercise needed to find the things you’ve forgotten) can help your brain remember! I’ve decided to send details of my BEMP program to AARP and maybe to Doctor Oz. Perhaps the retiree group will feature me in their magazine, or Oprah’s esteemed diet guru may invite me to be guest on his TV show. I’ll contact them this afternoon, if I can just remember where I put their email addresses…. Science News link: http://www.sciencenews.org/index/generic/activity/view/id/69370/ title/Aerobic_exercise_boosts_memory
Trust us… he wants this for ♥ Valentine’s Day!
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ation, works overtime, loves Teach·er [tee-cher] imparts inform
children, Makes a Difference
Leesa Meador ry Art Teacher at Waccamaw Elementa in Pawleys Island nty-eight How long: I’ve been teaching for twe
Why teach: Because I love children. play all day long! Best thing about your job: I get to a big family. Our Best thing about your school: We’re do well, but she principal, Mrs. Reid, wants us all to cares about kids more than subjects. Lives: Georgetown Loves: God and the beach
Reads: Right now, I’m reading
mer, so I’m nearly Your art: I teach art camp in the sum e for myself, I love always teaching. But, when I have tim love working with clay, too. to paint watercolors and acrylics. I ey , by Kevin Malarkey & Alex Malark ven Hea from k Bac e Cam o Wh Boy The
er shop, Computer Resource, and ily: My husband, Phil, owns a comput
my daughter, Sallie, and son, Eddie,
are still in school.
parking lot. ued one of our cats from the Wal-Mart resc We us. find hey —t cats e thre Pets: Two dogs and Georgetown, I go on and on about the from ges brid the r ove ing driv are we rning when Inspiration: I love nature. Every mo but it makes my day. beautiful sky—it drives them crazy, people I love. would be reading or doing art with the I and m, war be ly nite defi uld wo r Perfect Day: The weathe h tomatoes, the more the better
Favorite Meal: Italian, anything wit
rgetown Work Out: I go to the YMCA in Geo
five days a week; I’m usually there by
even though Charlie, died in a car accident. But , son est old My r. the mo a to pen t could hap use this loss to make Beauty: I survived the worst thing tha with Him. He has shown me how to ship tion rela l rea a e hav I w kno re here. I was really angry at God at first, I now of doing the things we love while we’ nce orta imp the me ght tau rlie Cha . something beautiful in my life , unconditional love caring, sharing important times in life st; mo the you ds nee e eon som en wh Friendship: Being there
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Why I Teach by Melissa Face
“A 65!” I think to myself. “How could he have gotten a 65 on this assignment?” Perplexed, I flip through the stack of eleventh grade vocabulary quizzes. Then I realize that I graded my answer key. Again. This happens to me at least once a year. What concerns me is that it is starting to happen a little earlier each year. I am feeling the way I usually do right before spring break, and it is only December. Today is Wednesday, December 14th to be exact. We have two more days of school until we dismiss for winter break. So, I arrive at school at 7:10 am, fifteen minutes before administration requires us to be here. It is my plan to catch up on some e-mails before 2nd block begins. “Mrs. Face, you have a call on line one,” the receptionist announces across the intercom. “Mrs. Face, line one.” I pick up the phone and listen as a parent explains why her child did not have his research paper yesterday. The excuse is legitimate, so I tell her to have him hand it in first thing tomorrow. She is happy with my response, and we say our goodbyes. As I am walking back to my work area, the bell rings. I rush to my classroom so that it will at least appear that I am prepared for my students. As they file into the room, my co-teacher and I get them settled and explain the day’s assignments. While the students are working, my co-teacher and I discuss plans for the rest of the day. We briefly chat about student progress, a meeting that we both must attend, and our student who is currently suspended. Then, we divide the graded work so we both know what we will need to accomplish during break. Throughout the day, I keep trying to get back to my desk. And when I finally do, instead of actually crossing items off my to-do list, I keep adding new ones. Johnny’s mom needs to talk to me about the zero he received for a class work grade. Ariel needs a letter of recommendation for her college application. Mark wants me to sign his field trip form. Everyone needs something. I need the 2:30 pm bell to ring. I love teaching. If I were not teaching, I’m not sure what else I would be doing. But despite my love of my subject area, my students and my co-workers, I feel totally depleted. So, at the end of the day, I drag my laptop, my bag of student work and my exhausted body out to the parking lot. I head home in hopes of getting a few hours of sleep before I have to do it all over again. There are days when many teachers question their value. Some argue that we are the most underappreciated profession in America. It is a valid argument. And in recent years, our class sizes continue to increase, our resources decrease, and our paychecks remain stagnant. We have not received a raise since 2008. But, we keep doing what we do best: teaching. It is Thursday, December 15th, and once again, I arrive at school early. I want to distribute some sugar cookies to my co-workers and bag up a few for my seventh block students. It will be a nice surprise for them. When I walk into my work area, there is a card on my desk. My name is written on the front, but the handwriting is unfamiliar. I open it and read the writing. “Mrs. Face, Thank you for always being there. Thank you for keeping me in check and for getting me out of high school. Love, Rachel.” Rachel is one of my former students. She graduated last year and is now taking classes at a community college and working as a nursing assistant at an elder care facility. She is doing very well for herself, and she made an effort to thank me for the role I played in her success. Tonight I will write her back. After I grade a stack of research papers, e-mail a few parents and finish my January lesson plans, I will write a quick note to Rachel. I want to thank her for helping me remember why I teach.
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Gifts from the
by Cecelia Cook
I am blessed with wonderful memories of living and working in different parts of the country. Having lived two-thirds of my years in the Deep South and one-third on the central Eastern Seaboard, working in the Southwest, the Pacific Northwest, the Northeast and the West Coast provided me a new perspective of our country: areas which were still rugged around the edges, not yet completely tamed by man. I began jotting down snippets about my adventures in my new surroundings and later converted them to Word documents. Last evening, I ran across a forgotten electronic folder entitled Journal Entries. It had 10 entries made over a 6-year time span, from Maine to South Dakota to New Mexico and points in between. I’m thankful I made these “journal” entries. When I read them today, it was like opening a gift from the woman I was then to the woman I am now – my memories, a gift from the past. *** Wednesday August 27, 2003 – Casco Bay, Maine It’s my off day today and it’s perfect. It’s 10:15 am, and I have no desire to be anywhere else in the world. Nowhere! I’m sitting on the deck of a ferry hopscotching from island to island across the Casco Bay. My bike is
secured below on the freight deck, and I’m on my way to an adventure: exploring Great Chebeaque Island, the outermost island in Casco Bay. The ferry is headed north, the wind is out of the west and the sun is at mid-morning position in the east. There is a slight chop on the water and the combination of the height of the wave with the angle of the
sun produces a pattern on the water of gulls in flight – silver gulls. Hundreds, then thousands of flickering, silver gulls as the eye moves toward the horizon in the east. Just before the horizon, the silver gulls all meld into one vast mirrored surface. The day is singing, and my heart joins right in – I may not recall the words my heart sang in my younger days, but I remember the tune. I want to remember this morning forever. I thought I’d forgotten how it felt to be truly “in the moment” – I was afraid I had become a woman anesthetized by the rush, rush of modern life to the point I couldn’t feel beauty. Thank God, I still can. For some, the ability to feel beauty IS joy. I push my bike off at the dock at Chebeaque and ride to the northern tip of the island to have lunch at the Old Chebeaque Inn constructed in 1924. This “new” hotel replaced the one built in the 1800s, which burned in 1920. The white wood frame structure is three stories with a veranda (that’s what they call a covered porch in Maine) running the entire length of the building and wrapping around both ends. The dining room faces the harbor, but there are only a few patrons. Maybe they heard the menu is a piece of fiction. Neither of my first two menu choices is available: all I can get is a hamburger. However, the disappointment with the lunch fare is quickly dispelled by the fascination of sitting on the veranda of that old hotel with a glass of wine listening to music from the 1940s. How historically fitting as Casco Bay was the U.S. North Atlantic Fleet’s refueling center during WWII – the last stop for fuel before crossing the Atlantic Ocean. German U-Boats lurking close to the bay entrance sank an untold number of U.S. ships, and the locals have lots of stories about these times and the red horizon lines at night. U.S. losses were never publicized. Even though I cannot see them on the veranda, I can feel the longago presence of young servicemen in uniform escorting pretty young ladies in feminine summer dresses and sling-back pumps. Everyone is smoking Luckies or Camels. My fantasy even has sound effects: lots of laughter and ice tinkling in glasses. The couples dance – not fast dancing, but very slow and with bodies very close. Even an imaginary spectator can sense their electric sense of urgency: they are temporary people in a temporary situation. It’s a very haunting experience, even if self-fabricated. I won’t forget it. After lunch, I explore the hotel’s first floor nooks and crannies and find a collection of yellowed sheet music stacked behind the glass doors of an old wooden bookcase. One piece is entitled “The Rose of a Navy Man” (was the rose a tattoo or a woman?) along with other titles I have never heard before. The piano and bench were all that was salvaged from the 1920s fire. Had this sheet music been stored in the bench? The collection had to date back to World War I or even earlier. I carefully fold the ancient paper and replace it in the bookcase. I hate to leave, but there is a ferry to catch and I’m not a strong swimmer. *** A 2011 update on The Chebeaque Island Inn: The grand old dame was completely renovated in 2005 and enjoys a five-star historical hotel rating as well as a #11 ranking of the top 50 small hotels in America. I went back in 2007, but it was closed for some unknown reason. All I could do was peep into the first floor lobby windows. The common areas looked upscale English Country Estate. But I missed the slightly worn carpets, the rump sprung chairs and old books on the shelves. I do hope they didn’t trash the old telephone switchboard, it was a classic. Someday I want to go back, sit on the veranda, have a glass of wine and find out if the spirits of the servicemen and the young women of WWII return – or whether the renovations removed the power of their memories to draw them back to this place. For me, I must go back.
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Southern Snaps Paying It Forward – Brenda Rosen by Leslie Moore
Typing “acts of generosity and kindness today” into your computer’s search engine will bring up more than six million results – the hungry are being fed, a helping hand is given to someone in need or a kind word changes a life. Good deeds, great and small, are found everywhere and are mostly done without fanfare and recognition. Grand Strand resident since the mid 1970s, Brenda Rosen is one of those six million who, day after day, works to make the world a better place for her family, friends and our community. Petite and lovely, Brenda looks much younger than her 73 years, but the first thing you notice is her big smile. Born in Haverhill, Mass., Brenda was the youngest of three children, all first generation Americans. Her father immigrated to this country from Poland and her mother from Russia, both fleeing persecution due to their Jewish faith. Her parents worked hard and were successful, giving their children a happy, middle class upbringing. They instilled a strong work ethic in their brood, but also the importance of giving back. “My parents were always very generous, “Brenda remembers. While a senior in high school, Brenda agreed to a blind date with a young M.I.T. student whose roommate was dating one of her friends. It was the beginning of her love affair with Dick Rosen, a native of Georgetown, S.C., that has lasted through 54 years of marriage, three children and six grandchildren. After graduation, Brenda went to Boston University and dated Dick all through college. The two were married in February of 1958; three weeks after Dick completed his graduate studies. The couple settled in Massachusetts, where Dick began his successful career, and Brenda supervised her growing family while working part time. While his work demanded a lot of travelling, Dick always made sure the family vacationed in Georgetown each summer. In 1973, Dick became general man-
ager of AVX Corp., and the family moved to Myrtle Beach. Brenda’s children were still in school, and she began to work at the then new Myrtle Square Mall in Belk department store as the fashion coordinator. “I have always loved clothes and shopping, so this was the perfect job for me,” Brenda said with a laugh. Always generous with her friends and family, it was Hurricane Hugo in 1989 that started Brenda’s philanthropic journey. “After the storm, I got involved with the American Red Cross. A group of us helped set up a relief center at the old Tads in Myrtle Beach, distributing vouchers for hotels, clothing and food.” That same year, Dick’s mother passed away after a battle with cancer and Brenda, touched deeply by her mother-in-law’s death, became involved with the American Cancer Society. A few years later, her husband’s father was cared for by Tidelands Hospice and, in typical Rosen fashion, they became supporters of the organization, eventually helping build the new Tidelands Hospice House. “I am too sensitive to volunteer for Hospice, but we do support their mission,” said Brenda. Fond memories of taking her children to Brookgreen Gardens while they were growing up led Brenda to get involved with this non-profit. An avid gardener, Brenda loves her work with Brookgreen, telling me, “We were always members, but I became president of the Friends of Brookgreen Gardens and chaired the Brookgreen Gala. Today, I still serve on the executive board.” Bob Jewell, President and CEO of Brookgreen Gardens, is enthusiastic and appreciative of the support both Brenda and Dick have given the non-profit, saying, “Brenda has been wonderful for Brookgreen. There’s actually a garden here named after her! She is always here and always
involved. Brenda is a passionate person and brings her passion to the support of Brookgreen.” Personal loss and tragedy affect us all, and Brenda is not exempt. Her ability to take a personal loss and turn it into a triumph is what makes her truly unique. “My brother was stricken with Alzheimer’s disease at 65 and lived 10 years before he died,” she began. “It affected me deeply; we were very close. He was a brilliant lawyer and a wonderful man.” Brenda has also faced her own mortality with a breast cancer scare and a diagnosis of melanoma, which has fortunately been cured. These events led this philanthropic woman to become involved with the neuroscience department of the Medical University of South Carolina where she now serves on the advisory board. “I had a cocktail party recently at my beach house in Pawleys Island to spread the word about some of the new treatments available at MUSC. It is a wonderful place – they really have it all,” Brenda said thoughtfully. These are only a few of the many, many charities that Brenda and her beloved Dick support. They funded a school at Temple Emanu-El in Myrtle Beach and support the synagogue in Georgetown as well. Higher education also benefits from the Rosen’s generosity with Brenda’s service to the Horry Georgetown Technical College Foundation Board; the Rosen’s also fund a scholarship for deserving students. CCU also benefits from Brenda’s altruistic spirit through the Women in Philanthropy and Leadership group which provides scholarships for local students who have financial need as well as academic excellence. “We should all give back,” Brenda told me vehemently. “Dick and I have been very fortunate. If I see someone with a sign asking to work for food, I will always stop and help. No one would do that if they didn’t really need a hand. Pay it forward – it makes us feel good to help.” In spite of her many commitments to the community, Brenda always puts family first, and her husband is first in the family. “Dick is my life, as I am to him. We have built a wonderful family.” Every year the couple takes their children, spouses and grandchildren on a special trip around the holidays. This past year, they visited Mexico. “Dick is the most wonderful, unselfish man I have ever known,” smiled Brenda. “I am truly spoiled. There is nothing too good for us. I spent a lot of time alone while he was working through the years. It’s nice to have him with me now.” Brenda is also a devoted friend to those she chooses to love. One of her closest friends became ill and was unable to get a definitive diagnosis. With Brenda’s help, her friend was flown to Cleveland and soon discovered she has ALS. Of course, Brenda went with her, offering as much support as possible in the face of such a grim diagnosis.
Pawleys Island resident, Barbara Kee, met Brenda playing golf soon after moving to the area and the two have become close friends. Barbara told me, “Brenda is such a wonderful friend. I was new to the area, and Brenda immediately began to include me in all her activities. Having known her for several years, I’ve learned that she has so many friends, some of whom go back decades. She keeps everyone in her family close; she is constantly calling, visiting and in some way caring for each and every one of them. For me, she has been there to share joy and sadness. Rarely does she offer advice – although we know she can – but she shares your grief as if it was hers…nothing is said, she is just there to support. I admire her so much. She has a lot, as we all know, but she is always giving so much back, not only with financial support but with her time and energy.” Barbara laughed and continued, saying, “She also loves dogs. One time, I picked her up at Food Lion to sneak down to St. Frances Animal Center to check out the dogs without Dick knowing about it!” Brenda does take time for herself. She works out three times a week with a personal trainer and plays golf – when the weather is nice. “I am definitely a fair-weather golfer,” she told me laughing. And, this woman does love to shop. “I take my granddaughters shopping whenever I can!” An avid reader, Brenda enjoys her Kindle and is currently reading, The Cat’s Table, by Michael Ondaatje. While preparing for our photograph, Dick laughed and referred to himself and his wife as “beauty and the beast!” He then became more serious and said, “A lot of what we do is because of Brenda’s initiative. She does so much to help people – and is a truly good person.” “I love people and being around them,” Brenda told me. “I’m not better than anyone; I’ve just been given the opportunity to do more. I think most people are generous and would do what we do. I am very fortunate.”
March 24, 2012 On
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Life in the S l o w Lane by Sharon Struth
I scrambled onto the checkout line at the home improvement store behind a man holding about fifty of the same outlet cover. This would be fast. The cashier should enter one, then say “Sir, how many of these do you have?” input the quantity and hit total. I’d be next. The cashier lifted one and passed it over the scanner. Beep. What happened next was so far away from how I’d imagined it that I almost needed a taxi to get there. She lifted another and repeated the process. Beep. Then a third. Beep. My shoulders tensed. The cashier was merely a teenager, perhaps a new hire. Was this larger quantity situation a first? Maybe her training had overlooked the method I’d considered. A familiar anxious twirl circled in my gut, the wind-up before the pitch during the moment when words exit my mouth which shouldn’t. “Excuse me,” I finally said. She looked up. “Can’t you just scan one then put in the total quantity?”
The customer with the outlet covers nodded in solidarity. But his tight lips suggested he wasn’t going to utter a single word to help plead my case. The cashier tucked one side of her long straight hair behind an ear and gave me a stare so cold it could have made ice shiver. As the mother of two teenage daughters, her silent gawk left me undaunted. “You could enter fifty items at $3.50 each, and the register will calculate the total amount.” Her lips twitched. “No, ma’am. I have to do each one.” She scanned the fourth one. Beep. The man behind me exhaled a weary sigh. I turned to him. “Just a recommendation. If you ever see me in a line again, head for a different one.” “Let me know where you’ll be going next,” he grumbled. It wasn’t the first time something like this had happened to me. And this time, like all the others, I gritted my teeth, thought about everything else I needed to get done that day and waited out the transaction. I’ve been born with the uncanny ability – whether at McDonald’s, the supermarket or the bank – to consistently make the wrong choice when it comes to any type of check-out situation. And I never take them in stride.
I sigh, tap my foot and pass nervous glances at other lanes to see if a strategic switch is in order. I watch the lucky ones on the line next to me zip through fast and problem-free. Do they have a sixth sense for the speedy queue? Each incident leaves me tense and frustrated. But two days after the outlet-cover incident, during a long overdue routine medical check-up, I received some humbling news. Glancing over his half-framed reading glasses, my doctor said. “You suffer from hypertension. High blood pressure.” His grave expression made me nervous. “How bad is it?” “It’s waaaaay too high. Have you been feeling stressed lately?” “No.” I said with a defensive clip. “Well, no more than usual.” The encounter from two days earlier was still fresh in my thoughts. “Guess I do get aggravated easily.” “That’s not good.” He shook his head, a silent tsk. “What’s going on?” Nothing new, I thought. But maybe, now that I was over fifty, my body was sending me a message. A little hint it didn’t have the wherewithal to get so hot and bothered over every little thing. “I suppose I don’t handle stress well,” I admitted. “Hmmm. Well, first, we need to put you on medication.” He grabbed the prescription pad, scribbled something and handed it to me. Then, without a word, he began jotting notes on a second prescription sheet. Anxious and curious as to what he was writing, my leg jiggled against the examination table. He tore it off. “This is just as important as the medication. You need to learn to relax.” I studied his note. Count to ten. Take a yoga class. Exercise. Think big picture. Breathe, breathe, breathe. “I don’t have time to do yoga,” I said, aggravated by yet another thing to add to my to-do list. “And I know how to relax. Besides, shouldn’t the medication alone fix the prob-” I stopped when it hit me; he was right. He pointed to the first item on the list, and I nodded. “One, two, three…” Oddly, it worked. I returned home with a renewed attitude; confident that with age (and hypertension) comes some newfound wisdom. And it started with a new outlook at the one situation which I seemed to have the least control; my lane holdups. Now, the stretches of time I spend waiting to check-out at a store or make my bank deposit are referred to it as my newfound “free” time. When delayed, I skim a magazine where I catch up on the latest celebrity gossip, memorize a new recipe or catch a few tips on how to “spice it up” in the bedroom. Or I scan the impulse purchase end cap where I assess my household’s battery and lip moisturizer needs. Sometimes, I consider the rates on six month certificates of deposits and calculate how much interest I might make. In fact, I’ve decided maybe it’s my destiny to be there, to take a second to enjoy the view, to breathe, to relax and not take such an insignificant moment in life so seriously. This more Zen-like approach has brought me a surprising measure of peace which had been missing before. After all, why am I in such a big hurry? Even if I have an important destination, what’s the worst that could happen? Will stock markets crash, governments crumble or anarchy develop across the nation? Not likely. So now, if you do find yourself delayed on a line one day, look around. If you see me there, tap me on the shoulder. We’ll do some relaxation breathing together.
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The mailing envelope sits on the table in front of me, open and empty. My cell phone, five years old now, lies next to the envelope, but I can’t bring myself to put it inside. I don’t know why I hesitate over this last step because really, the hard work is already done. A month ago, I decided to buy an iPhone. It’s my first smartphone, and it’s about time. My old phone is so small that everyone, upon seeing it, would say one of two things: “How do you open it?” and “How do you text on that thing?” But I loved it, as much as a person who doesn’t really like talking on the phone or texting could actually love a phone, I suppose. The phone suited me: Small. Compact. Simple – with no bells and whistles – but functional, with several handy hidden features. And yet, I envied those iPhone owners with their fancy gadgets packaged in nifty cases. I envied the iPhone’s amazing functions, and I soon began to worry that I was being left behind. So one day, when I came across a deal that I couldn’t resist, I bought an iPhone. That part wasn’t so bad. The hard part was getting rid of my old cell phone, which I had to send back, all my information erased, in order to get a rebate on the iPhone. I’ve always had an above-average tendency to attach myself to objects. I slept with a teddy bear until I was 16, I put 200,000 miles on my first car, and sometimes it’s hard for me to throw away a toothbrush (I’m only sort of kidding on that last one). You could say that these attachments are my way of keeping constants in my life, my way of feeling secure or safe or comfortable. And that would all be true. But it’s also about holding on to, and remembering, my past. I do this in the obvious ways, too: photographs and journals, videos and scrapbooks. I think about the reasons I feel a strong need to document my life, and I always come back to the same thing: I don’t want to forget. My childhood best friend can recount entire conversations we had in 3rd grade; meanwhile, it’s a coup if I can remember what she and I talked about yesterday. It’s not as if I have no long-term memory; there’s a lot I remember about my childhood. But so much of it comes from photographs and the retelling of stories. These are my memories. All the rest – all the stuff that made up my day-to-day life, all the details – they’re lost. And that makes me kind of sad. But what happens when some things are lost forever, and the memories are all we have? I’ve given this a lot of thought lately. My best friend, David, died last year. Days after his death, in a panic, I began writing down everything about him that I could remember. I saved digital photos of him to
by Nadine Karel
at least three different places, and printed out hard copies as well. I searched through the archives of my email, and read through every message he ever sent me, imagining what his voice would sound like if he spoke the words. His voice: I had saved a voicemail he left for me a few months before he died, and every 21 days, as my phone’s messaging system asked if I wanted to delete the message, I would listen to it again, and press “9” to resave. Every 21 days for nearly a year I listened to this message, until I decided to buy a new phone. Almost desperately, I asked the salesclerk if I could transfer my saved voicemails onto the new phone, and his words hit me like a dead weight, square in the chest: “No, I’m sorry; all messaging is erased in the transfer. We can’t save voicemails.” I went home and rethought the decision to buy a new phone, telling myself I didn’t really need a Smartphone, telling myself that my old phone worked just fine. And it did. But here’s the thing. I knew that I couldn’t hold onto that phone forever. The voice inside the phone? It was David’s voice, but it wasn’t David. Keeping that phone wouldn’t keep David with me. And so, I did the only thing I could think to do: with my camera, I took a video of my cell phone as it played David’s voicemail. The audio is a bit muffled, but I was able to record his voice. I don’t listen to that recording every 21 days. In fact, I haven’t listened to it in months. I understand that my memories of David will begin to fade – in fact, they already have. I spent months battling that inevitability, trying everything in my power to keep David’s memory alive and fully present. But finally time – and a new cell phone – helped me to store my memories in a place where they belonged. I began to accept that some things would be lost and forgotten, but also that there would be some things I’d always remember. And it is this acceptance and understanding that will allow me to move beyond my past, and steadily into my future. At this moment, my old cell phone is still sitting on the table, next to the open envelope. The voicemails are gone, the texts are wiped clean, the photos erased. It no longer stores my memories, and I no longer need it to. I’m ready to fill a new phone with new memories. But every once in awhile, I will find that video of David’s muffled voice, and I will listen to it. Because there are some memories that I will always keep.
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Dr. William E. Altman, DDS PC Surfside Beach dentist, Dr. William Altman, loves pets, specifically his three year-old Maltese, Sugar. This altruistic-minded professional is involved with several local charities, including the Friends of Brookgreen. “Brookgreen is a gift to our community; a sanctuary for visitors and local residents,” Dr. Altman began. “I also look for people in need who are trying to better themselves and help them get their ‘smile’ in order! Our self esteem is wrapped up in our smile and teeth.” Dr. Altman went on to tell me that throughout his life he has received a lot of help when he needed it and just wants to pay it back by paying it forward. When asked who he counts on for help, Dr. Altman was able to give me a long list of good friends, but Dr. Jack Green’s name was on the top of the list. “I’ve known Jack for years—ever since I moved here.” Valentine’s Day is a special event for Dr. Altman and his wife of 24 years. “We always celebrate by going out to dinner and exchanging gifts. One year we spent the day at our home in Bennettsville and invited four other couples to a wonderful dinner prepared by a local chef.” Making the world a better place, one smile at a time, is one of Dr. Altman’s lofty goals. Recently, he was able to help correct the smile of a young man working to enter the ministry. “I think helping people improve their self-esteem and quality of life is a big part of what we do. Feeling good about yourself is important to how you meet the world. And, I believe that you never get too old to improve your quality of life. I have a 90 year-old patient who is amazing!”
Dr. William E. Altman, DDS, 811 5th Ave. N., Surfside Beach 843-238-5634 www.DoctorAltman.com
Sabrina Israel Sabrina Israel, Marketing Director for the Palace Theatre lives with the love of her life—a nine year-old, black and white Teacup Chihuahua named Audi who weighs in at 3.8 pounds. (No, she doesn’t own an Audi!) When asked about volunteer work, Sabrina told me, “I got involved with Habitat for Humanity when I was in middle school. I’ll never forget the first house I worked on in Alabama; it was a life changing experience. Locally I am a part of GS Scene, a great organization for young professionals run by MBACC.” Sabrina went on to say, “If I needed help of any kind, I would call my father. He has great life and business advice and is nearly always right. My father is the wisest man I know, and I lean on him in times of need—he will always give me an honest answer, whether I like it or not!” Sabrina celebrates Valentine’s Day, “even though I know some people think it’s very commercial, but I think it forces you to really think about the meaning of love and say ‘thank you’ to the special people in your life. What am I doing this year? Hmmm, good question.” Sabrina finished our conversation by telling me about the work she loves. “The Palace Theatre is unique to Myrtle Beach because of our commitment to the performing arts. We are involved with many local non-profit children organizations and offer them the opportunity to come see our musicals, shows and plays. Making sure children are exposed to arts and other creative outlets is something we believe in. With Myrtle Beach being one of the fastest growing areas in America, it is very important to make sure this city is immersed with the arts in every shape and form.”
Palace Theatre Myrtle Beach, 1420 Celebrity Circle, Myrtle Beach, 843-448-0588 www.palacetheatremyrtlebeach.com
Liza Mata Liza (pronounced Leeza) Mata, Executive and Artist Director of Coastal Dance Centre and Coastal Youth Ballet Theatre, doesn’t have pets, but loves them, especially German Shepherds. “I used to have two, but now I am always out of the house working.” In 2006, Liza founded Coastal Youth Ballet Theatre, a non-profit organization that provides high caliber training and performance opportunities for dedicated and seriously committed dance students in the Grand Strand. She also has an outreach program that gives members of the community, particularly school children who traditionally have no access to arts programming, the opportunity to see professionally-staged productions. “This spring we are launching our story book ballet production of The Sleeping Beauty.” Liza went on to tell me, “I am in a unique position to combine the professional performing arts with a youth development focus. It gives me a feeling of great fulfillment when I see the joy in people’s/children’s faces after every performance.” If she needed help, Liza would call her family—husband Greg and grown children. She is also on the phone daily with her best friend, Sonia, in Connecticut. “I also have the dance families who have been with me for the longest time and have been pillars of support.” Valentine’s Day can be any day for Liza and Greg, who don’t necessarily celebrate on The Day, but try to go out for dates whenever they can. Both love their work and making an impact on the community. “Through Coastal Youth Ballet Theatre, I am able to make a significant and lasting impact in the lives of hundreds of area youth and community members every year.”
Coastal Dance Centre, 3554 Old Kings Hwy, Murrells Inlet, 843-651-2006 www.coastaldancecentre.com
BUSINESS Beverly Mesimer
Beverly Mesimer, owner of Finders Keepers in Myrtle Beach, loves dogs. “I have two dogs, a Golden Retriever named Marley and a Maltese named Hannah. Hannah’s mother, Bella, is my daughter, Brittany Mills’ dog.” Owning a consignment shop gives Beverly the opportunity to help local clothes closets. “I donate lots of clothing and household items to local charities, and Brittany has done volunteer work at Grand Strand Humane Society.” Her sister, Marce Smith, is the person Beverly can depend on in any situation. “I opened the store almost a year ago because of her. The space had become available, and I was trying to rent it out. Marce called me one day and suggested I open a consignment store. At first it seemed crazy, but she is the person who is always there for me, so I decided that if she thought I could do it, I probably could!” When asked about her Valentine’s Day plans, Beverly told me, “My husband, Marty, and I have been married for 36 years, and we always go out to dinner on Valentine’s Day. In the early years we bought each other gifts, but with three kids, going out to a nice dinner was a gift.” Finders Keepers gives consigners an easy way to sell items they no longer want or need. Beverly loves her work and said, “We sell your items for you so you don’t have to worry about selling your items on Craig’s List or eBay.” Consigners bring their treasures, and Beverly does the rest, paying you when the items sell. Currently Finders Keepers has more than 500 consigners and great deals on furniture, home décor, clothing, shoes, purses, jewelry and more. “I have met some really nice and interesting people who have become friends,” said Beverly. My daughter works with me. I could not do it without her! Beverly is a great people person and always has a positive attitude. Her degree in graphic arts is invaluable for marketing!
Finders Keepers, 6105 North Kings Hwy, Myrtle Beach, 843-213-1289 www.finderskeepersmyrtlebeach.com
Fred to the Rescue by Rose Ann Sinay
Daisy was a cross between a Dalmatian and a Beagle. Black and brown spots spattered her short, white hair like a Jackson Pollack canvas. Dark lashes framed her amber brown eyes. She crossed her long legs at the paw and ate her food daintily like the lady she was. We adopted her from a Connecticut Animal Rescue. “…And to think we saved you,” my daughter would scold when Daisy did something naughty and ungrateful like chewing her best flip flops or the buttons off her favorite sweater. She was fascinated by the thought that our family had rescued the puppy, but not quite sure just what we had saved her from. In her eyes, the shelter was a veritable Doggy Toys R Us, bringing families and little bundles of canine love together. Daisy’s biggest vice was fence jumping. Those leaps over the four and a half foot wooden barrier resulted in hour-long, frantic searches, riding up and down our country road calling her name and making those silly comehither sounds with pursed lips. She would finally appear, head lowered as though begging our forgiveness. Over the years, Daisy took her place in our family, and being the loyal dog she was, listened to each of our frustrations and ranting
when nobody else wanted to. She licked our faces, snuggled her head on our shoulders and eased us through difficult moments. She instinctively knew when to cuddle and when to stay out of the way, all the while keeping a watchful, protective eye over us. Time passed; Daisy’s spirit belied her age. She was twelve years old, but it hadn’t occurred to me that her end could be near. I had noticed the loss of appetite and blamed it on the hot, humid weather. We took her to the vet’s office anyway. When the doctor called to tell us the bad news, I couldn’t respond. I hung up on him mid-sentence. I gathered myself. He must have made a mistake – wrong dog. I called him back. No mistake. We would most likely have to put Daisy down, he said.
My husband and I brought her home and smothered her with love. She absorbed it all and gave it right back. We hand fed her all her favorite treats just to get her to eat a little something. We kept looking for the tiniest sign of improvement, but she was losing weight at an alarming rate. Just standing up in her basket was difficult. Each step was shaky and labored. There was no doubt; we had to let her go. We made an appointment…and cancelled it twice. Finally, we made the decision; as painful as it was, we had to do what was best for Daisy. My husband gathered her in his arms, and we carried her for one last walk down our favorite path. We walked slowly letting her savor the sights and smells of the woods. A rabbit, nibbling grass, caught our scent and scampered away. Once, Daisy would have reacted with a giant leap (as far as her leash would allow), and some tenacious barking; now she simply sighed and let her head fall into the crook of my husband’s arm. It’s time, she seemed to say. We would not cancel this appointment. The void was terrible. The dog bed with her indelible impression, stayed in place for two weeks before we could take it away. My hand unconsciously reached to pet her head as I sat watching television. Months passed…a year. We made excuses as to why we didn’t get another dog: Daisy couldn’t be replaced; we could go out for the day and not have to hurry home to let the dog out; there was no more dog hair coating the bottom of our socks. We both really knew – it hurt too much to lose such a precious pet. One morning, my husband pointed out a collection of pictures in the newspaper. Those posed snapshots of puppies looking needy and adorable at the same time, and all of them available at the local Animal Rescue. “No,” I said emphatically. “No more dogs.” “You’re right,” he said, tossing the paper in the garbage. But, the pictures kept appearing on the table, on the couch, in the bathroom. “Okay,” I relented. “We’ll go to the animal shelter and get a puppy fix, but we are not bringing one home. You may want to think about volunteering there.” We entered the cement floored kennel that housed dogs of all colors, sizes and breeds. Most jumped at their cage walls and barked as we walked by. Pick me, they seemed to be shouting. As we turned the corner, a Labrador-mix puppy peered at us quietly huddled in the corner. We coaxed him to us with whispered baby talk and wiggling fingers through the wire pen. He approached tentatively and licked our fishing digits. “Would you like to take him to the play room,” a woman behind us asked. “No,” I said. “Yes,” my husband replied. Fred (my husband’s choice) has black hair and big amber brown eyes. He noisily wolfs down his food like it’s his last meal and belches loudly when he’s done. When he gets the chance, he runs like a rocket into the woods, crashing through bushes, sending wildlife in all directions. He eventually trots out of the thicket covered in mud, twigs, leaves and terrible, smelly substances. At those moments, I don’t know whether to be relieved that he found his way home, or drive him straight back to the rescue center. If he was a human, I would picture Fred in dirty jeans and a torn t-shirt, scratching his cow licked head (among other things). There’s nothing gentlemanly about Fred. He’s now four years old. He pouts and whines when I say no, but loves me, nonetheless. Of course, Fred had me at the first nudge of his shiny, wet nose.
Bouvier Tax & Financial Services, Inc. Accounting, Tax and Financial Services 10% credit for new clients Open year round 14323 Ocean Hwy., Unit 4121 Litchfield Exchange PO Box 3548 Pawleys Island, SC 29585 843-314-9090 firstname.lastname@example.org
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Art • Collectibles • Jewelry Rita Siegal Levine, owner 843.839.2727 www.artandsoulmyrtlebeach.com, email@example.com Rainbow Harbor, 5001 N. Kings Hwy. Myrtle Beach
A Day in Her Shoes by Diane Stark
“Your balance is $24.86,” the grocery store clerk said. The woman’s mouth dropped open. “But I just slid my card through. I shouldn’t owe anything.” She put her hand on her hip and said, “I need to see a manager.” I fought the urge to sigh. I was the next one in line, and I was in a hurry. I debated finding another check-out lane, but I’d already put my purchases on the conveyor belt. The woman behind me caught my eye and smiled. “It looks like it might be a while.” “He’s not good at waiting,” I said, gesturing toward my three-year-old son, Nathan. The woman smiled. “I remember those days.” She tilted her head toward her own son. “He’s eight now, so it’s less of a problem.” “What’s a problem?” The little boy asked with a toothless grin. I smiled back and said, “This is Nathan, and he doesn’t like to wait. He’s going to be a total wiggle worm in just a second.” “Oh, well, I’m Jimmy, and I’m a wiggle worm too. Can I play with Nathan?” I nodded and watched as Nathan allowed Jimmy to look at the Thomas the Train toy he’d brought with him. I smiled at Jimmy’s mom and said, “Hopefully this won’t take too long.” She nodded. “And hopefully, Jimmy and Nathan can keep one another entertained while we wait.” The boys played with Nathan’s train for a few minutes, but just as I feared, Nathan’s wiggle worm tendencies kicked in. After checking with Jimmy’s mom, I handed each boy a lollipop, hoping to buy a few more minutes. While we stood there, I kept waiting for the woman in front of me to apologize for the wait.
I would have felt bad for holding up the line, but it didn’t seem to faze her. A full ten minutes later, the manager finally arrived. I knew I was on borrowed time with Nathan’s patience level and hoped the situation could be resolved quickly. But when the manager found out what the problem was, the situation only got worse. “You can’t use a food stamp card to buy candy,” the manager explained. “But it’s Christmas candy,” the woman said. “Don’t my kids deserve to have candy in their stockings?” I sighed and heard Jimmy’s mom do the same. My attitude was going downhill fast. “Everyone knows you can’t buy candy with a food stamp card,” I muttered and rolled my eyes at Jimmy’s mom. “Why is this woman wasting our time?” The manager just shrugged. “Yes, of course your kids deserve to have candy at Christmas, but you’ll have to use cash to pay for it.” The woman’s hand went back to her hip. “I don’t have any money. I only have this food stamp card, and I want to use it to buy this candy for my kids.” Her voice cracked for just a second before the defiant look returned. “Ma’am, I don’t make the rules,” the manager said, “but I do have to enforce them.” “Then put the candy back,” she snapped. “I’ll just tell my kids that the rules made sure they had empty Christmas stockings.” “Empty stockings?” Jimmy said with wide eyes. “Who’s going to have empty stockings?” Jimmy’s mom looked at me. How can you explain food stamps and bureaucratic rules to an eight-year-old boy? She whispered to him for a minute, but the wide eyed look didn’t go away. “But what about Santa?” Jimmy said. The woman looked right at Jimmy and
gave him a small, sad smile. “Santa hasn’t been to my house since my husband died,” she said quietly. I swallowed and exchanged a guilty look with Jimmy’s mom. Jimmy, of course, focused more on the lack of Santa than the lack of a husband. Jimmy turned back to his mom. “Can I just pay for her candy? I mean, if Santa doesn’t come and the lady doesn’t have any money, then her kids won’t have any candy, and that would be really sad.” He grabbed his mom’s hand. “Please, Mom? I can use my birthday money.” I felt tears spring to my eyes as I watched Little Jimmy beg his mom to let him spend his birthday money on candy for kids he didn’t know. His kindness made me feel ashamed of my own behavior. I was in a hurry, and the poor woman in front of me had been nothing more than an inconvenience. But an eight-year-old boy saw her as a real person. He put himself in her kids’ shoes and offered to help. I could hardly believe my own hypocrisy. It hadn’t been too many Christmases ago that I myself had been a struggling single mom. I’d walked a day in that woman’s shoes, and yet I’d judged her without even knowing her. I reached into my purse and pulled out a twenty dollar bill. Jimmy’s mom tapped me on the shoulder and I passed her money to the woman as well. “I’m sorry,” I said. “About your husband… and my attitude.” The woman’s tough façade cracked before my eyes. “Thank you,” she murmured. “My kids thank you too.” The woman used our money to pay for her kids’ Christmas candy, and before she left, she turned to smile at Jimmy’s mom and me. “Thank goodness for people like you,” she said. And thank goodness for kids like Jimmy, who make the world a better place, even at eight years old.
Home Decor & Local Art
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We are accepting gently used clothes for HER in all sizes, jewelry, name brand boots, shoes, handbags, western hats, red hats, dress hats, accessories, furniture, decorator items and select framed art work. Call for an appointment to consign your quality items.
407 Broadway Street (downtown Myrtle Beach) 843-839-3960 firstname.lastname@example.org Hours: Monday-Friday 10 am-5 pm Saturday 11 am-4 pm
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Books for the
Perfectly unique gifts No royal purse required!
BRIGHT BLUE SEA
42 Eclectic Shops Under 2 Roofs!
Retro or Revamped Created & Uncommon Quality to Quirky
Books will go on blue bookshelves in the community, available free for families to select and keep. The Bright Blue Sea Bookshelf is a Voices for Children project designed to create a culture of literacy in our community.
42 Upscale Vendors offering creative ideas for your shopping pleasure... Visit often, Things change Daily! Hours: Monday-Saturday 10am-6pm 4905 Highway 17 Bypass • Murrells Inlet • 843-947-0767
For more information, please call Ann Harris at 843-318-1732
(Next to Lee’s Farmers Market and Pet Galley)
Pa in t in g t h e Wo r l d wi th
by Kim Seeley
My husband’s sister, Linda, was the free spirit of the family. While the older sister, Barbara Jean, was dutifully cleaning up the kitchen, she would holler, “Linda! It’s your turn to dry the dishes!” Linda could be heard, but not seen, serenely tucked into the high branches of the maple tree in the back yard, giggling at her sibling’s admonition. “Linda! I’m gonna tell Mama!” The recriminations were fruitless. Linda would not reappear from her hiding place until the chores were done. Hatred of household duties would stay with her throughout life. Linda was the rebel in the family as a child; she protested mandatory family visits on Sunday afternoons, often attempting to slide across the car seat and out the other door when her father forced the issue. It wasn’t that she was unhappy with her family – it was just the idea that horseback riding with one of her friends was more appealing. In fact, both her siblings and her school friends describe her as a happy, good-natured girl, even-tempered with a ready smile. Her sunny nature remained a true constant because few of her acquaintances in her personal life or business life ever saw her lose her temper. She was the only child who moved more than twenty minutes from home, and for a few years she and her first husband lived in Australia. Now around here, that’s really leaving home. Linda’s energetic, independent spirit led her to a whirlwind type of existence far beyond the scope of the childhood farm. While she was working at a bank, she and another friend saw the need for a temp agency in their area. They saved their money, put together a proposal and went to the bank for a loan. They were in business. The company they started was innovative in that it gave temporary workers, mostly women, benefits and decent wages. In six months, they were operating in the black. The company outgrew its office space several times in the first few years, until Linda and her partner built their own building for their headquarters. The company expanded with a branch in New York City, which Linda personally oversaw with visits at least once a week. She became the master of packing the carry-on bag. My husband’s family was aware that Linda was successful, but mostly unaware as to the extent of her success. We listened to her company’s ads on the radio in the morning, and we were pleasantly surprised to hear that her company was named to the Fortune 500 list. One of the reasons for this was her own sense of modesty. When she attended family functions, she inquired about her nieces and nephews, old neighbors and high school friends. When asked about her business, she would simply reply, “It’s doing fine.” One Sunday, Linda had invited all of her brothers and sisters and their families to her house for lunch. Her older sister, Barbara Jean, made the comment, “Well, I am glad this week is over. I have been washing windows, and I am worn slam out.” Knowing of Linda’s lifelong hatred of housekeeping, she then asked, “Have you washed your windows this fall?” Linda replied, without missing a beat, “Nope. When they get so dirty I can’t see through them, I’ll just buy a new house!” We all enjoyed a good laugh, because although Linda’s house was spotless, we all knew it wasn’t because of her elbow grease. One day, on one of her rare Sunday visits to the family farm, she made an announcement, “I’m retiring. I’m selling my half of the company.” And so she did. With some of the proceeds from her sale, Linda bought a
duplex in a nearby beach area. She kept half the duplex for herself and rented out the other half. She called each brother and sister and told us all, “You can use this place anytime I’m not there. Just call and check.” We did. My daughters and I used the beach house several times. It was just a short walk to the ocean, and it was on a peaceful stretch of the beach, away from the boardwalk and the masses of people. A few years later, Linda made another announcement, “I’m selling the condo at the beach, and I’m buying a house on Sanibel Island, Florida.” Once again, she was extremely generous with offers for us to use the house. My brother-in-law and sister-in-law both visited with her down there, and we all knew the door was open if we wished to visit. Upon retirement, Linda took up painting. She took lessons at a local art gallery, and soon she began to show her work. Once again, her imagination and creativity brought her success. During this time, she was also a volunteer with the American Red Cross, serving on their board, as well as serving on the board of her alma mater, a well-respected private university. She donated countless time and money to these two organizations. She was also the first female Rotary member in her region, not because of any espoused feminist cause, simply because of a desire to support their mission. One day, about four years ago, we got a phone call from my sister-inlaw, Barbara Jean. Linda’s husband had called with news that she was sick, and he was flying her home from Florida to run some tests. A few days later, the doctors delivered the diagnosis – pancreatic cancer. This was a known enemy in my husband’s family; it had taken Granddad’s life in just a few months several years before. The progression of Linda’s disease was just as swift as Granddad’s. In a few months, at the age of 60, she was gone. Even in her last days on this earth, her generosity and strength of spirit left us amazed. Never having had children of her own, she had left the bulk of her estate to her husband, her brothers and her sister, but she made special provisions for a few friends. One of her friends had never owned a home; Linda left her enough money to buy a house. An animal lover all of her life, she bequeathed the local animal shelter a substantial sum of money. Her husband saw to her special requests, including the gifts of her paintings to her family and a local foundation. Even after her death, the sale of Linda’s paintings helped renovate an old school that now houses a library, an art gallery, classrooms, a piano studio and an auditorium. Her gravestone bears the image of her artist’s palette, and a rainbow, which represents her favorite song, “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.” Under her name and dates are engraved the words, “She Painted the World with Kindness,” an epitaph proffered by my daughter. “How perfect,” we all thought. That is exactly what she did.
Meet the Founders of The Old Bridge Preservation Society in Sunset Beach, N.C., Chris Wilson, Ann Bokelman and Karen Dombrowski
For over fifty years, visitors and residents to the island of Sunset Beach, North Carolina, made their way slowly over a one-lane wooden pontoon bridge to reach this peaceful, slow-moving beach community. Island life revolved around the opening and closing of the bridge, which took 15 minutes to accomplish. Dinner plans off island were always prefaced with the question: “Want to go before the bridge opens or after?” Vacationers hearing the “thunk-thunk” of their tires on the bridge would release the cares of everyday life and know that vacation had truly begun. But, as idyllic and picturesque as the bridge was, there were safety concerns. Emergency vehicles might get stuck on the mainland while a sick or injured islander lost precious minutes that could conceivably cost a life. Residents could become stranded during a major hurricane and be left alone to face the wrath of nature on a small, unprotected strip of land. And, the hands of time had taken their toll on the last pontoon bridge still in operation on the East Coast – each year it sank just a little lower into the waters of the Intracoastal Waterway. The beautiful, new, Mannon C. Gore Bridge was built, opening on November 11, 2010, sailing majestically over the waterway – giving residents a safe and secure way to travel back and forth. But, three women who love Sunset Beach, Chris Wilson, Ann Bokelman and Karen Dombrowski were determined to preserve the Old Bridge and its history for future generations. Together they formed The Old Bridge Preservation Society, and through their efforts, the Old Bridge and Tender House were relocated to a lovely, shaded piece of property within sight of the new bridge. Today, The Old Bridge Museum and Interpretive Center site is open to the public with periodic events highlighting the history and charm of this small sea island. The museum itself will be open to the public as soon as the restoration is complete.
How did you all get involved with the preservation of the Old Bridge and Tender House? Karen: I’m originally from Buffalo, New York, vacationed here for many years and moved here permanently three years ago. Before I moved, I was involved with the Buffalo Olmsted Parks Conservatory and have a heart for preservation. It was truly serendipity that Ann, Chris and I sat near each other at a Sunset Beach town meeting about the fate of the Old Bridge. When we learned it was set to be demolished, we knew we had to do something. We thought we would save a bridge, but it quickly became a labor of love. Ann: I moved here from Richmond, Virginia, and have lived here for five years, but, like Karen, have vacationed in Sunset Beach for years. Bridges connect places, but the Old Bridge connects people – past and present. This bridge represented our island and a simple, non-commercial life for many years. We are trying to tell the story of Sunset Beach, and are collecting stories of what the bridge has meant to people through the years – weddings that were late, proposals that were made on the bridge – we’re keeping history alive.
Chris: I moved here six years ago from Dublin, Ohio, but am a native of Rochester, New York. The three of us have become kindred spirits through a love for our island and the Old Bridge. We had no idea how we were going to preserve it – but with lots of help we saved it for future generations! Karen helped us with a contact at English Construction, the construction company that was building the new bridge, and they helped this dream take shape. We knew the construction company would actually own the Old Bridge after the new one was complete – and they sold it to us for $1! Then, bless them, they moved it to our site – free of charge. It was an amazing feat to move the Old Bridge and Tender House with very little damage to either. We also owe a huge debt to Ronnie Holden, who offered us the use of three properties, our choice, for the site of the museum. Ronnie and his wife, Clarice have been wonderful supporters of our mission. Karen: The three of us spent time with the last Bridge Tenders and learned how the bridge operated, as well as many wonderful stories. We also have the logs that were kept by the Bridge Tenders. They recorded each and every boat that came through, along with the weather and time of day. These interviews were recorded and will be shown at the museum when the restoration of the Tender House is complete. Ann: During the final stages of building the new bridge and moving the old one, the three of us were on call 24/7 for meetings with various people involved with the project. It has been a huge learning experience and a tremendous amount of work. Chris: Last summer a woman was riding her bike by our site and got so excited when she saw the Old Bridge she fell off of her bike! Another person started
to cry when she realized we had saved this piece of island history. People stop by and tell us stories and have their picture taken by the Old Bridge. A family reunion group of around 40 people even stopped by for a group photo. Ann: We have a membership society for people who want to be a part of our mission, and a special Junior Bridge Tender membership for children, who are an important part of our group. We have children out here at every event – they help with fundraisers, give tours and record stories. It’s very rewarding to see how excited they are about the history of our community. What’s coming up for the Old Bridge? On Saturday, April 14, we’re having a fundraiser at Silver Coast Winery. “An Evening of Fabulous Music” will be at 7 pm with entertainment by Brunswick Big Band and vocalist, Linda Ladrick. Tickets are $25 and will support the continued restoration of the Old Bridge and Tender House. Tickets are available on our website. We are moving forward with the restoration and programming for visitors, and just finished touching up the bridge with the original type of silver paint used by the state and have had helical anchors installed. We will eventually have changing exhibits in the Tender House as the restoration continues. A local engineer volunteered to build a scale model, 12' x 12', of the Old Bridge and Tender House and his presentations always draw a crowd. This is a fantastic community. Learn more at www.oldbridgepreservationsociety.org or find Old Bridge Preservation Society on Facebook.
THIS IS WHAT A HEART ATTACK FEELS LIKE TO A WOMAN.
MAKE THE CALL. DON’T MISS A BEAT. WomensHealth.gov/Hear tAttack
The Art Museum’s 12TH Annual
spring tour of homes
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!
Presented by Sparks Toyota
Saturday, March 3, 2012 • 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. $40 in advance • $45 day of tour For ticket and Tour information, please call the Art Museum at 238.2510.
Besides a feast for the eyes, the day also offers a feast for the taste buds with a luncheon buffet – served along with an ocean view – at The Dunes Golf and Beach Club. Luncheon will be served from 11:30 a.m. until 3 p.m. The Dunes Golf and Beach Club 9000 North Ocean Blvd., Myrtle Beach, SC 11:30 a.m. – 3 p.m., $17 per person. Reservations suggested, but not required, through the Art Museum at 843.238.2510. Tour of Homes ticket holders only.
From overland excursions on the Trekker to garden tours and new exhibits, there is always something new and exciting at Brookgreen. For more information call or visit our website
The 12th Annual Tour of Homes is generously sponsored by:
Admission: $14 Adults, $12 Seniors, $7 Children 4-12 & Children under 3 are FREE!
The Sun News
WBTW News 13
A benefit for
Butterfly Exhibit Opens Spring 2012 Admission is Good for 7 Days!
3100 South Ocean Boulevard • Myrtle Beach • 238-2510 www.MyrtleBeachArtMuseum.org
A Culinary Symphony . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 24 Accents by Carol . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 17 Art & Soul . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 33 Barbara’s Fine Gifts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11 Bouvier Tax & Financial Services, Inc. . . . . . . . . . . 33 Bright Blue Sea Bookshelf . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 35 Brookgreen Gardens . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 41 Burroughs & Chapin Art Museum . . . . . . . . . . . . . 41 Butler Electric Supply . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19 Cabana Gauze . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19 CHD Interiors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15 City of Georgetown . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19 Coastal Carolina Obgyn . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 17
On Highway 17 south of Myrtle Beach between Murrells Inlet and Pawleys Island.
Coastal Dance Centre . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 35 Consigning Women on Broadway . . . . . . . . . . . . 35 Croissants Bistro & Bakery . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27 David E. Grabeman, D.D.S., P.A. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9 Dr. Jerry M. Guanciale . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 12 Eleanor Pitts Fine Gifts & Jewelry . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5 En Facé . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25 Finders Keepers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 33 Floorz . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 17 Grady’s Jewelers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15 Inlet Queens . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 35 The Kangaroo Pouch . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 21 Long Bay Symphony . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 43
The Market Common . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11 McLeod Health . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3 Miller-Motte Myrtle Beach . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13 Palace Theatre . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 29 Palmetto Ace Home Center . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25 Pawleys Island Bakery . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 29 Pawleys Lifestyles . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9 Planet Fitness . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5 Rice Paddy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 12 Rioz Brazilian Steakhouse . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 43 Rose Arbor Fabrics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7 Sassyfras . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11 Sculpted Figures . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 44
Shades & Draperies . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5 South Atlantic Bank . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9 Studio 77 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27 Sunset River Marketplace . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 35 Take 2 Resale . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25 Taylor’s . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15 Too QT . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 21 Treasures Jewelers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 29 Victoria’s Ragpatch . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 29 WEZV . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 43 William E Altman, DDS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13 Women in Philanthropy & Leadership . . . . . . . . . 2
Visit www.sasee.com for a full calendar and more Sasee events!
Winter Teas at Brookgreen Gardens, Saturdays, seatings at 3:30 and 4 pm, $27, members $20, nonmembers $27, reservations are required. For more info, call 843-235-6016 or visit www.brookgreen.org.
Double Door, Stagestruck Players, Brunswick Little Theatre, Odell Williamson Auditorium, Brunswick Community College. For times and ticket info, call 910-755-7416 or visit www.brunswicklittletheatre.com.
Bi-Lo Myrtle Beach Marathon, events for all ages. For more info, call 843-293-RACE or visit www.mbmarathon.com.
18th Annual Horry County Museum Quilt Gala, 10 am-4 pm, Ocean Lakes Campground Recreation Center. For more info, call 843-915-5320 or visit www.horrycountymuseum.org.
Chocolate Walk, Downtown Conway Historic District, 1-5 pm. For more info, call 843-248-6260 or visit www.conwaymainstreet.com.
Annual Myrtle Beach Stamp and Postcard Show, Clarion Hotel and Conference Center in Myrtle Beach (formerly Holiday Inn West). Sat. 10 am-5 pm, Sun. 10 am-4pm, free admission and appraisals. For more info, call 843-347-0087 or e-mail email@example.com.
St. Michael Catholic Daughters of America Luncheon & Fashion Show, 11:30 am-3 pm, Kimbel’s at Wachesaw, fashions by Coldwater Creek, $30. For tickets or more info, call 843-357-8360 or 843-651-3737.
Coffee with the Authors, Barbara Arnsten discusses, S.O.S., Sunset River Marketplace, 10283 Beach Drive, Calabash N.C., 10-11 am, RSVP required. For more info, call 910-575-5999 or visit www.sunsetrivermarketplace.com.
FPC Concert Series, 1 pm, First Presbyterian Church, Myrtle Beach, 6-New York Gilbert & Sullivan Players in the Revue “I’ve Got a Little Twist;” 23-Stefan Jackiw, Violinist. For more info, call 843-448-4496 or visit www.myrtlebeachpresbyterianchurch.org.
Ain’t Misbehavin’, Theatre of the Republic, Conway. For more info, call 843-488-0821, www.theatreoftherepublic.com.
Moveable Feast, Margaret Baroody discusses, The Unexpected Visitor, Nosh, 11 am, $25. For more info, call 843-235-9600 or visit www.classatpawleys.com.
Winyah Bay Heritage Festival, events throughout downtown Georgetown. For more info, call 843-833-9919 or visit www.winyahbayfestival.org.
A Season of
SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 4, 2012
SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 19, 2012
SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 18, 2012
Performing at CCU in the Recital Hall, Edwards College of Humanities and Fine Arts 3:00 pm | Tickets $25 Reception during intermission
Long Bay Symphony Wind Quintet
Grande Dunes Oceanfront Hosted by KingOne Properties Featuring a string quartet
The residence of Dr. and Mrs. Henry Lepore Ocean Harbour, Calabash, NC
Tickets $35 â€“ includes a one hour concert, wine and refreshments
WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 15, 2012
Youth Orchestra Winter Concert
Myrtle Beach High School 7:30pm | FREE
FOR TICKETS CALL: TICKETS ALSO AVAILABLE ONLINE AT:
Raindrops & Rainbows
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