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July 2013 Priceless

To travel is to take a journey into yourself.

– Danny Kaye

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featured articles

10 14 18 22 26 30 34 44 46

July 2013 Volume 12, Issue 7

who’s who

Two Cultures, One Journey

Publisher Delores Blount Sales & Marketing Director Susan Bryant Editor Leslie Moore Editorial Intern Rebecca Johnson Account Executives Amanda Kennedy-Colie Erica Schneider Celia Wester Art Director Taylor Nelson Photography Director Patrick Sullivan Graphic Artist Scott Konradt Accounting Ronald Pacetti Administrative Assistant Barbara J. Leonard Executive Publishers Jim Creel Bill Hennecy Tom Rogers

by Sophia Clark

The Joy is in the Journey, not the Destination by Cecelia Cook

Our All Included Cruise by Diane Stark

French Lessons by Beth Wood

Southern Snaps by Connie Barnard

The Art of Packing in the Rain by Rose Ann Sinay

The Non-Existent Right or Wrong of How to Travel by Margo Millure

Worth the Price by Melissa Face

Under the Boardwalk by Susan DeBow

PO Box 1389 Murrells Inlet, SC 29576 fax 843-626-6452 • phone 843-626-8911 •

I n T h is I ssue Read It! . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Sasee Gets Candid . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Women & Men Who Mean Business . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Scoop on the Strand . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .



Sasee is published monthly and distributed free along the Grand Strand. For subscription info, see page 47. 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.

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Copyright © 2013. 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 Connie Barnard traveled the world as a military wife and taught high school and college composition for over 30 years. She has been a regular contributor to Sasee since its first issue in 2002. Sophia Clark currently studies journalism and music at the University of Oregon. She is part Japanese and part American, and grew up in Osaka, Japan, until she was 18. She enjoys cooking, photography, writing and music. Her website is

letter from the editor We all know that travel opens us up to new experiences and ways of thinking. But I believe some of the most significant journeys take place on the inside, bringing insights and awareness that, for me at least, make navigating life a little easier and more satisfying. The parenthood journey is one of ongoing ups and downs that continues to surprise and change me even though both of my children are adults. In August, my daughter and her husband are expecting a baby, a little girl whose name will be Quinn, to honor the memory of my late husband. They told me over the Christmas holiday, so I’ve had quite a while to get excited about this new adventure. Becoming a grandmother feels like a watershed life event – and a journey I can’t wait to begin! Connie Barnard hit another home run this month with her interview of Pam Martin, a professor at CCU, you’ll love meeting. We also highlighted a group of S.C.U.T.E. volunteers – the work of this organization protects the threatened loggerhead turtle, a majestic animal that is threatened with extinction. Grab your copy of Sasee and head outside – summer is calling!

Cecelia Cook loves to travel – and loves to write about what she sees. You never know what you will find around the next bend in the road. Last summer she worked at Grand Tetons National Park outside of Jackson, Wyoming, checking people into the antique cabins. In her opinion this is the most beautiful of all the national parks. Susan DeBow is a writer/artist/motivational speaker. She now writes a blog at and her art can be seen and purchased at She looks forward to hearing from you. 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 Margo Millure believes nothing comes close to getting out of town every now and then, as a means to fully appreciate and engage with the amazing world we live in. She is a writer/editor/photographer and publisher of the popular online travel magazine for women, The Travel Belles will be offering small group trips to Italy and France starting in 2013. She lives with her husband, two teenage daughters and labradoodle in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina.

Happy 4th of July!

cover artist Women On Top of Their World, by Sandra Graves After a twelve year absence, local artist Sandra Graves celebrates her return home to Horry County with her work, Women On Top Of Their World. Horry County is where Sandra sold her first oil painting, her first piece of graphic art and her first mural – it is also where she had her first magazine cover and set design. Horry County introduced a lot of firsts for the artist during her long career and allowed her great flexibility in the art field. Sandra feels fortunate not to be limited to one art form, but like any artist she has her passion, oil on canvas. However, graphic art and design present their own challenges and rewards, and she is fortunate to be known for that as well. This versatile artist has had an amazing journey home and is blessed to be back. To contact Sandra Graves, email



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 former teacher turned stay-at-home mom and freelance writer. Her work has been published in 16 Chicken Soup for the Soul anthologies, A Cup of Comfort for Christian Women and dozens of magazines. She loves to write about the important things in life: her family and her faith. She can be reached at Beth M. Wood is a mom of three, marketing professional and freelance writer. Her work can be found in Sasee and various Chicken Soup anthologies. A social butterfly, she juggles multiple blogs and can be found on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest and Foursquare. Follow along at


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Two Cultures, One Journey E by Sophia Clark

ight hours had passed since my last meal. My stomach ached from hunger, and my sweat clenched the heavy layers of fabric close to my skin. My ribs constricted with every breath from the towels fastened around my torso to get rid of my curves. My obi, a thick, gold sash over six feet long, seemed to tighten with every step I took as the cicadas cried out in chorus around me. My four inch high zouri sandals and long robes only allowed me to take baby steps, forcing me to stand straight and tall. The thick fabric at my throat pulled my head back to elongate the nape of my neck, the only exposed part of my body apart from my palms and face. Thirty bobby pins held my dark brown hair in a messy bun, pink roses picked out by my mother embellishing the do. I kept a smile plastered on my face to satisfy the exceedingly large amount of photographs my parents were taking. After three and a half hours of professionally done hair styling, makeup and photo shooting, I stood before my parents and a small shrine that I visited as a young child, a whole life ahead of me as an adult, a woman. This was my seijinshiki, a coming of age ceremony that every 20 year old man and woman in Japan celebrates in a kimono, the traditional and most honored garment of Japan. This was a day for my family, friends and all of Japan to welcome me into the world as an adult. Born of an American father and a Japanese mother, I have always felt out of place in America and Japan, because somehow everyone always knows I am a foreigner wherever I go. I have dark hair and pale skin, but I am taller and have longer arms and legs than Japanese girls. In America, I am automatically labeled as “the Asian girl” for my looks. Ever since I was a little girl, people seem to stare at me, trying to figure out where I am from. Most of the time I don’t know where I really belong. My favorite thing about me now is that I am multiethnic, but that was not always the case. The first time I wore a kimono was the day I was born. It was the 18th of June, and I was brand new. A thin, white ubugi, a thin garment for newborns gently wrapped me up, held together on my tiny body with carefully tied bows. As the thick humidity grew into July, I had my very first ceremony, the omiya mairi at one month old. This is when a new child is brought to the shrine to celebrate the birth, and to pray for good health. The grandmother on the mother’s side holds the baby, wrapping the small, fresh child in a kimono


that he or she will wear in three years time for another event, the shichigosan. My kimono was white and red, the colors of the Japanese flag and good luck. The small blue flowers on the fabric matched the sky colored robes of my grandmother’s, who was proudly holding her third granddaughter. The shichigosan – meaning the seventh, fifth, third – is a series of family events celebrated in November when the child reaches the age of three, five and seven. The health and upbringing of the child is celebrated in this rite of passage. I remember as a little girl looking forward to each kimono-wearing event. I adored the smooth fabric of the kimono, the attention, and more than anything, I felt centered, looking Japanese and feeling Japanese. On kimono days I was not torn between two cultures. Through middle and high school, I did not feel pretty or confident. I did not yet know that I would go to America for college. I did not know whether to say I was American or Japanese since I was both. I did not know which country I identified with more. I did not like being stared at in public, as people tried to figure out why an Asianlooking girl was calling a tall, blondhaired white man, “Daddy.” On my 20th birthday, my aunt and grandma who had not communicated about the subject, both bought me a kimono as a surprise. Thank goodness they were both different colors and equally outstanding. The kimono from my aunt was a light blue with a hint of a silver shine, black flowers at the rims, paired with a gold and emerald obi. The one my grandmother chose for me I wore to my ceremony in July, a bright rose pink paired with a gold and black obi. This one was more playful, bringing out the fun-loving, girly girl in me. Perhaps I will pass these kimonos onto my cousins’ daughters or even my own someday. For now, they are tucked in dressers, waiting to be worn by a hopeful young girl like me. Between the time I arrived at college at 18 and now at 20, I have decided to tell people that I am Japanese, since Japan is where I grew up and where I call home. I have realized that I can be more expressive and natural when I speak English, and I have accepted the fact that people are curious about me because I am different. More than anything, I have realized that being different, being both Japanese and American, is what sets me apart from everyone else – and I would never change that for anything.


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The is in the Journey, not the Destination by Cecelia Cook

I spent so much of my teen and early adult life in unexciting locations, around people whose adventures consisted of summer Bible camps or visiting relatives in another state for a week, that all you had to do was mention the word “go” and I was in the car like a flash. It did not matter to where – it was the fact that I was “going somewhere” – one frequent treat was an invitation from an uncle to accompany him to the service station where I knew I could dip my hand in that ice cold drink box and pull out any bottle I wished. I wanted to go anywhere but where I was. Prior to my family owning a car, we did considerable traveling by train, and that was exciting. I would sneak away from home and walk down to the train station to watch the people or just watch the steam hiss out from the huge steel wheels. It was dirty, it was noisy, the people acted excited and animated, and I loved it. Needless to say, I did get my legs switched on more than one occasion, but the punishment never dulled my desire to go to the station and watch the trains. For some reason, we had a U.S.O. in my little town (we were about 45 miles south of Birmingham) and a lot of the service men would get off at our depot and walk over to the U.S.O. to dance. My parents would go to these community dances, but they didn’t jitterbug – my mother thought that suggested questionable character. Needless to say, while my father did slow dance, my mother did neither. I learned to dance at the U.S.O. standing on top of my Daddy’s shoes as he moved. So with the early exposure to the romance of the rails, later reinforced by Grandmother Wilson living beside the railroad tracks where I would sit on her front porch in a rocking chair and wave to the engineer and whoever else would wave back as the engine would pass our house – and count the number of cars of course. The names on the sides of the freight cars were enough to fire up my gypsy genes: Baltimore and Ohio, Chicago and North Western, Atlanta and West Point, Chicago, Southern, Rock Island and Pacific, Denver and Rio


Grande and Georgia and Florida – all very exotic to a nine year old. I also recall an Atchison-Topeka-and Sante Fe line. (There was a popular song with that name too.) I began writing off to railroad companies like the Union Pacific asking for information about their trains, routes and amenities – as if I could just buy a ticket and go! I have been daydreaming for half my life about traveling, and what I would see when I did travel! When my father died and I came into a small inheritance, I decided not to invest it in stocks and bonds but to invest it in travel experiences – an investment and education in living. My first excursion was a hiking trip to Vermont, in October. I bought a train ticket to Burlington and had my own overnight compartment. I was so excited, I could not sleep but left the blind raised about five inches so I could see the sleeping towns as they slid by. It was a dream come true. I had a list of places I wanted to see and things I wanted to do – that was the beginning of my serious wanderlust. I still have it as evidenced by my battered (held together by rubber bands) Rand-McNally Atlas. I flip through its pages and dream of sunlight flooding through windows onto a bed in which I have yet to sleep. My beat-up Rand-McNally isn’t just a map; it’s my travel journal. I couldn’t possibly replace it with a new one. I have tracked ten years worth of routes across the country with colored markers, and I have distinct recollections of each town I’ve traveled through, the names roll off memory’s tongue like lyrical folk poetry: Cottonwood Falls, Gnaw Bone, Cimarron, Biddeford Pool, Bean Blossom, Chokoloskee, Homosassa Springs, Astoria, Trinadad and Ouray are a few of the little dots on the red and blue lines crisscrossing the maps. I have now traveled in every state in the union. I do not regret one penny of the expense; I have made some great friends along the way – but certainly not the kind that would spend their annual vacation visiting family, for they, too, believe: “The joy is in the journey, not the destination.”



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The morning of their fifth wedding anniversary, Nick and Amy’s day starts unusually bright. Amy is cooking breakfast, and Nick enjoys the meal before he leaves for work. Then Amy disappears. With no signs of a struggle, the entire tiny town of Carthage, Missouri, wonders if Golden Boy Nick is the one responsible. Amy’s doting parents call in every major crime unit to try to track down their daughter, and soon it is a national news story. Everyone is watching for the next move. When the investigation starts to uncover Nick’s lies, the young family’s money and trust issues, and Amy’s journals that do not reflect a happy marriage, all eyes are on Nick to confess to the murder of his wife. july

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And Nick is not doing himself any favors by being evasive and blasé, avoiding the authorities and disappearing for hours at a time. I was captivated from the very beginning, and I am not sure whether it is more because of Nick and Amy’s slightly off personalities, or the fact that I simply could not figure out how the story would end. I could not entirely choose sides, but the sympathy I had for these characters was canceled out by the bizarre choices they made. This is the best psychological thriller I have read in a long while. New York Times bestseller Gillian Flynn has a knack for razor-sharp narrative and thrilling psychological insight. The regular challenges of marriage take a dark and choking turn, with alternating accounts from Nick and Amy, until you are not sure what is true and what is not. With each page uncovering more secrets, lies and details, Flynn keeps the reader wondering who the real victim is in this marriage, Nick or Amy.

july 17

Our All Included Cruise by Diane Stark

“So we rented a fifteen-passenger van and the eleven of us are driving from Indiana to Miami,” I explained to a friend about our impending spring break trip. “Are you kidding me? How did you let this happen?” She shook her head. “It sounds like a train wreck.” I shrugged. “I know the drive down there could be a little rough, but once we get there, we’re going on a cruise. It’s all inclusive, but it’s also all included.” She laughed at my lame joke. “The cruise part sounds great, except for all of the kids and parents and in-laws that will be with you. If you ask me, you included too many people.” In the weeks leading up to our extended family vacation, I had this same conversation with several different people. No one could understand how my husband, Eric, and I not only agreed to, but planned, a vacation with our five children and both sets of grandparents. People thought we were crazy, but I was actually looking forward to it. The drive down went surprisingly smoothly, and the ship itself was beautiful. The kids were all excited, particularly Nathan. As we toured the big boat, he greeted every person who walked by. One lady smiled at him and said, “Well, hello there, Handsome.” Nathan turned to me and said, “How did she know my name?” Despite Nathan’s serious cute factor, he’s four and that means he requires a lot of work. During the day, he was no problem. He had a blast swimming and playing miniature golf on the ship’s top deck. But dinner time was another story. Eating dinner on a cruise ship is not just a meal. It’s an event. It lasts nearly two hours. And that’s about an hour and 45 minutes longer than Nathan prefers to sit still at any given time. So while everyone else enjoyed visiting during our evening meal, I brainstormed ways to keep Nathan still and relatively quiet. I wasn’t always successful and more than once, I found myself wishing that Eric and I had been a bit more selective in who we invited on our little voyage through the Caribbean. This was especially true when Nathan decided he liked shrimp cocktail, and downed my entire appetizer while I took his sister to the bathroom. Although his cute factor returned the following night when he requested his own order of “shrimp cottontail.” Our waitress at dinner was a beautiful young Philipino woman named Juliana. Right from the start, she paid special attention to Nathan. The first night, our other server brought Nathan a dish of ice cream. When he finished it, she brought him a second one. When I protested, she winked at me and said, “Please let me spoil him.” And that’s what she did – every chance she got. She brought him a glass of Sprite, even though the only free beverages at dinner were iced tea and


water. She brought him two orders of his now-famous “shrimp cottontail” and he routinely got a second dish of ice cream for dessert. On the third night, she tried to cut Nathan’s meat for him. When I insisted that she didn’t need to do that, she said, “Please let me. Being with Nathan makes me feel better.” And then to my surprise, tears filled her eyes. “I love being around children on the ship,” she said. “It makes my own kids not seem so far away.” Juliana told me that she had a six-year-old daughter and an eightmonth-old son. They were in the care of her mother-in-law back in the Philippines. “We sign six month contracts to work on the cruise ship,” she said. “My son was five months old when I left, and he’ll be almost a year old when I see him next.” “So after your contract is over, you’ll get to stay in the Philippines with your kids?” She shook her head sadly. “No, I will stay home for a month or so, and then I’ll do another six months on the ship.” “Wow, that must be so hard,” I said. “It is hard, but the time goes by quickly, and I’m doing it for them. This job allows me to provide for them in a way I never could if I stayed at home.” She shrugged. “The hardest part is that my son thinks my mother-inlaw is his mommy.” I swallowed against the sudden lump in my own throat. “You’re a good mom, Juliana,” I said quietly. “Your kids will understand someday.” Juliana wasn’t the only one who’d left children behind in her home country. The man who cleaned our cabin had a wife and four kids in Indonesia. He’d been working on cruise ships for nearly ten years and had never lived at home with his family for more than a month at a time. He’d been present for the birth of only one of his children. As I listened to their stories, my attitude about our all included vacation changed. Instead of longing for a quiet, relaxing day with just my husband, I embraced the chaos that taking five kids on vacation can often bring. I thought about the sacrifices that Juliana was making, and what she would give for a night of argument refereeing and shushing a rambunctious four-yearold at dinner. So I went swimming when what I really wanted to do was lie by the pool and read. I went miniature golfing when I would’ve rather taken a nap. And I watched with pride as my older children pushed their grandpa’s wheelchair with patience and care. And when Nathan crawled into bed between Eric and me for the third night in a row, I snuggled him close, remembering that doing so is a privilege not everyone on the ship could enjoy.


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july 21

I sipped the mimosa and gazed out the window at the clouds. Did I remember to cover carpool for the late start day on Wednesday? Will Jack’s dad remember to set up the physical therapy appointments? 30,000 feet up and my mind was still down below the clouds, my heart still at home with my kids. I’ve been enthralled with Paris since I was a little girl. I read books that took place there, heard stories about the Louvre, and the Arc De Triumph. Through the years, I’ve collected pieces from the city of lights: a poster print of the Champs Elysees, and the Rhone River, baskets and picture frames stamped with the city’s moniker. When I was a teenager, I saw the movie Sabrina. It’s been a love affair ever since. I imagined someday drinking a latte at a street side café, writing my novel and greeting people in French. I vowed to get there by the time I was 40. So, when my dad and step mom offered to take me along on a tour of Paris and the South of France, just a few months shy of my 41st birthday, I couldn’t possibly turn it down. From the time the trip was booked, I’d had eight months to plan, prepare and pack. As a single mom of three, I’d need every bit of it before leaving for a 10-day vacation, sans kids. I would need to depend on others, something I was always loathe to do. Thankfully, my kids’ dad, my mom and close friends all jumped in to make it work. The morning of my flight, I left post it notes taped to the front door, the sliding glass door and the kitchen window with instructions on watering the plants, taking out the trash and loading the dishwasher. I wrote fifteen letters, five for each of my three kids, to be handed out every other day while I was gone – a reminder that I was thinking of them. I bought an international data package so that I could log onto my blog, and write an “American Girl in Paris” entry each night, post and tweet about my trip. What can I say? I’m a planner. I’m also a very nervous traveler. I don’t like to fly. But business class was a nice diversion, and we arrived in Paris with no issues. This was a tour, so I was comfortable with the fact that the next 10 days were well planned out. On the day we arrived, May 1st, we’d have all day to wind down and explore before beginning our planned activities the next day. As it turns out, May 1st is a holiday in Paris – their Labor Day – and most everything was closed. I was also very jet lagged and ended up spending the majority of my first day in Paris sleeping. This trip is not starting out as I planned, I thought. But at dinner that night, we met our travel companions, drove down the Champs Elysee and saw the Eiffel Tower. Day two began as scheduled, with a tour of the city and lunch at an outdoor café where I sipped a Kir Royale and people-watched in true Parisienne style. Day two was also the end of planning as I knew it. We were scheduled to take a bullet train to Avignon and meet our riverboat where we’d

cruise along the Rhone for the next seven days visiting the vineyards and towns in the South of France. Instead, we were put up at a small hotel in Lyon. Our tour director explained that all the previous weeks’ rain had caused the Rhone to rise – too high for riverboats to pass under the bridges. The next four days turned into a charter bus tour. The boat was our hotel on the water, but instead of cruising to each town along the river, we had to board buses and ride an hour or more to each destination. While we visited picturesque villages, beautiful vineyards and historic architecture, I was busy feeling frustrated with over-excited tour guides, long bus rides and the disappointment in our docked ship. And worse, the Wi-Fi was horrendously sketchy, rendering that data package I’d purchased useless. Our fourth night on the boat, we finally set sail. We arrived in Viviers the morning of May 8th only to learn that it was yet another French holiday. As was the following day. Most of the shops were closed. My travel companions were unfazed, exclaiming “Boy, these French sure know how to live!” While I silently sulked, Do these people ever work? But with each glass of wine, I slowly began to adjust my expectations. And I realized I had been living the French life…Each morning, I relaxed over an espresso and morning pastry before enjoying the day’s activities. Each afternoon, I relaxed on the ship’s deck with a glass of wine and a few chapters of a great book, before enjoying a fantastic dinner and the company of some of my favorite people. Without a good Wi-Fi connection, I began leaving my phone in my cabin. And for the first time since about 2007, I actually left my iPhone behind for an entire day of sightseeing and shopping. What I signed up for was an organized trip to Paris and a river cruise through the South of France. What I got was permission to let go. To enjoy my family, sleep in, eat crepes, drink a little more wine and while away a few hours writing long hand in a leather-bound journal with my favorite Cross pen. Something I hadn’t done in a long time. The trip hadn’t turned out as planned. It turned out better. Because it forced me to stop planning and just live. Now that I’m home, I think I’ll continue to live as the French do. Maybe not every day, but when it counts: Leaving my phone at home while I enjoy dinner with good friends, cuddling with my babies a little longer on lazy weekend mornings and realizing that the best things in life really can’t be bought – in Paris, or anywhere else for that matter.

French Lessons by Beth Wood



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july 25

Southern Snaps

Pam Martin: Buen Vivir, A Life Well Lived by Connie Barnard

This is the story of a good life and a small South American country which many of us could not spot on a map. The story belongs to Pam Martin, a beautiful Penelope Cruz look-alike, with a personal story that would be easy to covet if we did not admire her so much. A Fulbright scholar with a Ph.D. in International Relations and a highly regarded teaching career at Coastal Carolina University, Martin has fluency in three languages and a contagious passion for the pristine rainforest and primitive culture found in a tiny corner of Ecuador where she spends portions of each year, often accompanied by her husband and two young children. It is a good life, buen vivir, as Latin Americans refer to well-being in its purest and broadest sense. Pam fondly remembers childhood vacations to the Carolina coast. Its pristine estuaries and dense untouched woodlands imprinted themselves deeply and permanently on her soul and drawing her back again and again, especially after her parents settled in Pawleys Island. Pam completed her undergraduate work in New Jersey then began graduate studies in International Relations at the University of Maryland. She recalls, “While studying in Berlin, I called my parents often. Again and again they talked about this nice man, a landscape architect named Bill, whom they thought I’d really like. Here I was, calling from across the Atlantic, researching exciting global issues, and they were trying to fix me up with a guy in Pawleys Island!” Well, as we all know, you should listen to your parents. On a visit home to South Carolina, Pam met and fell in love with Bill Martin. They married and are living happily ever-after with their two bright and beautiful children, Gabriella (8) and William (5). Each week Pam enjoys a 10-15 mile “meditative jog” from her home by the river to the ocean and back,


soaking in the beauty and magic of this special part of the world. Pam’s Master’s and Ph.D. research focused on predicting civil and ethnic conflict. The topic first interested her as a young girl when she learned about people living in other countries who worked to create democracies despite all odds: “Growing up during the Cold War, I was inspired by Poland’s Lech Walesa and Czechoslovakia’s Vaclav Havel.” Later she was further inspired by the madres de la plaza (mothers of the plaza) who fought for information regarding the lost children who disappeared during a time of military dictatorship in South America. “Over time,” she says, “I became acutely aware of how very personal politics can be around the world.” Originally, her research had centered on examining potential conflicts in the European Union. However, her highly respected professor, Ted Robert Gurr, encouraged her to examine the emerging conflicts in Latin America, particularly those surrounding the Yasuni’ National Park’s pristine Ecuadorian rainforest and the oil-rich soil beneath it. The topic quickly captured Pam’s interest, flaming a passion for this most biologically diverse area on earth and its native people, some of whom have chosen to live in voluntary isolation. Since Pam’s first trip to Ecuador, she has become deeply entrenched in the global dimensions of energy policy and conservation in the Amazon while also teaching at the University of San Francisco in Quito. In addition to fluency in Spanish, Martin also mastered Kichwa, one of several native dialects spoken by indigenous groups within the Yasuni Park. By choice, the Kichwa and other tribes live self-sufficiently, some as hunter-gatherers, much like their Stone Age ancestors, surrounded by over 655 species of trees, 4,000 plant spe-


cies, 173 species of mammals, 610 bird species, and countless other threatened animal species. Their way of life, however, is threatened by the monumental presence of yet another natural resource: approximately 846 million barrels of crude oil lying beneath its pristine surface. Over the last two decades, oil companies have cut service roads through the jungles, disrupting the indigenous tribes’ simple way of life and exposing them to disease and other dangers while leaving reservoirs of toxic sludge which threaten the rainforest’s fragile balance of nature. The native people have fought with a range of weapons that includes ancient primitive spears, modern law suits, and the strength of 423 women leaders proclaiming, “Let us live in peace, and we will guard this land for our children.” Caught between the economic boon provided by the oil companies and a need to protect the country’s biodiversity and indigenous population, in 2007 the Ecuadorian government proposed an initiative to refrain indefinitely from exploiting oil

Introduction to World Politics, is a text used in freshman political science classes. Her recently published work, Oil in the Soil: the Politics of Paying to Preserve the Amazon, presents an overview of her extensive research on ethnic conflict in Ecuador, particularly the Yasuni ITT Initiative. Dr. Min Ye, a department colleague of Pam’s, says one of her greatest contributions has been the establishment of two Model United Nations programs, a collegiate one on the CCU campus and a newly initiated elementary school program at the Coastal Montessori Charter School in Pawleys Island. The Model U.N.’s goal is to assist students in becoming global thinkers and, ultimately, world leaders, by viewing the world through the eyes of diplomats in various parts of the world. Dr. Ye says, “In the past ten years Pam has helped hundreds of students understand the U.N and how it can make the world a better place.” At the same time, one of Martin’s priorities is mentoring young

reserves in the Yasuni National Park in exchange for 50% of the value of the reserves ($3.6 billion over 13 years) from the international community. Since then, the Yasuni ITT Initiative has received enthusiastic support from environmental groups, celebrities, and several European countries. The extent and duration of its success, however, remains unclear. Despite the exotic mélange which makes up her life, Martin refers to herself simply as “a wife, a mother, and a teacher.” Regarding her classes in politics and international relations at CCU, Martin says, “I truly love teaching. There is an exciting freshness as I start each semester. I particularly like working with freshmen, opening up whole new worlds and having the opportunity to be with them for four years.” She also works with Coastal Carolina’s student exchange program which has placed students in ten different countries. One of these, Sean Dove, is currently studying at the University of San Francisco in Quito where Pam first began her academic journey into the rainforests of Ecuador. Martin has high praise for CCU’s administration and her faculty colleagues, a relationship that is clearly mutual. Political Science Department colleague Dr. Richard Aidoo said of her: “Pam Martin is indeed a rare teacher. She has made it her calling not to just walk in and out of the classroom but to positively affect and transform the life of every student that comes into contact with her.” She has been recognized with a number of teaching awards including the International Studies Association’s Award for using technology to globalize her classroom and the Deborah Gerner Award for Innovative Teaching. She has published numerous articles and three highly praised books. One, An

women and encouraging them toward positions of leadership. “Women are natural political leaders,” she says, “especially in safeguarding families and natural resources.” Despite a common perception, Latin American women are in positions of power and authority at every level. She cites the leadership roles of women among the indigenous tribes, their influential positions in the rising middle class, and the phenomenal example of Ecuador’s Ivonne Baki who has served as Minister of Foreign Trade, President of the Andean Parliament, and leader of the ITT negotiating team. “In Latin America,” she adds, “the term Mother Earth has both symbolic and pragmatic significance.” In her own life, Pam Martin is clearly a role model for her students and for her young daughter who is bi-lingual and closely connected to both cultures. Pam says, “Our area is so rich in natural beauty and resources. I want my children and all who live here to recognize the responsibility that comes with this great gift we must never take for granted. This concept represents a way of living that respects all life on this planet – past, present, and future – as well as the values and ethics that support it. In today’s rushed world, buen vivir represents a much needed balance in our personal lives, as well as harmony among countries. Every semester I try to start a personal and professional dialogue regarding positive change. As I get older, I realize that life evolves to new goals and new insights which re-adjust our lens and shape our future. This is buen vivir – evolving in harmony and peace with nature and each other. It is a goal worth striving for.”

july 27

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july 29

by Rose Ann Sinay “One bag,” my husband said. “Why can’t two small children share one big bag?” He asked the same question every time he loaded the car trunk for our vacation destinations, repositioning coolers, toys, suitcases and canvas sacks of miscellaneous extras. “Next time you can do their packing,” I retorted. “Okay,” he agreed. “Kids don’t need twenty changes of clothing and ten pairs of shoes. I’m sure I can do it more efficiently. Two kids in one bag.” “I don’t want to be in a bag,” our daughter whined from the back seat. “Your clothes, Sweetie, not you,” he said, catching her eye in the rear view mirror. “If you think you can do it better, then by all means, you do the packing for the next trip,” I retorted. “No interference?” “The job is yours.” I sat back and smiled. I was already looking forward to our next vacation. Three months later, we were preparing for our annual trip to the cottage in North Conway, New Hampshire. There were lots of places to go and things to do, from bear watching (as they raided the restaurant dumpsters), to exploring the numerous trails and waterfalls, to blueberry picking right off the front porch. “Look at this,” my husband bragged as he easily placed the luggage, coolers and excessive amounts of fishing paraphernalia inside the trunk with room to spare. “Do you have the…,” I started. “Uh uh,” he stopped me. “I have everything under control.” I stared at the empty spaces between “our stuff.” I could actually see the gray carpet that covered the floor of the trunk. How could that be? I couldn’t restrain myself; I had to say it: “Just remember, it’s better to have it and not need it than need it and not have it.” I got into the car and slammed the door. I realized I sounded just like my mother. After three hours of driving and playing “I Spy” games, we stopped at a rest area to stretch our legs and use the facilities. The kids immediately ran for the vending machines. Fifteen minutes later, as we were getting ready to get back on the road, I heard an angry scream. My son strolled to the car with a smirk on his face. “She stepped in dog poop.” “It’s okay,” I said to my daughter as she dangled the offending foot in front of her and held her nose. “Daddy will wash your sneaker, and I’ll go get your flip flops.” “Uh…I didn’t bring her flip flops,” my husband said. “I figured all they needed were their sneakers.” With that, our daughter let out another wail. “No problem,” I said calming her down. “Daddy will wash the sneakers, and we’ll get you a new pair of flip flops in town.”


I handed him the offending shoe with a meaningful look. “It’s only day one…just saying.” It started sprinkling when we hit New Hampshire. By the time we arrived in North Conway, it was a torrential downpour, and the temperature had turned uncharacteristically cold. We were drenched from head to toe just running the few feet from the car to the house. “Go straight into the bathroom and take off the wet clothes, I’ll get your pajamas and sweatshirts.” My husband shook his head. “No sweatshirts. They would have taken up too much room in the suitcase. Besides, who’d think we’d need them in August?” he asked with a sheepish grin on his face. “Their mother would have,” I said as I went to find blankets in the closet. As luck would have it, it rained for two days straight, and the dryer in the cottage was out of order. With the promise of blue skies to come, we went into town, shopping for flip flops and sneakers while our wet ones bounced around in the local Laundromat dryer. We bought a basket and filled it with the forgotten baby shampoo, conditioner and chewable vitamins. A couple hundred dollars later, we all wore new shoes and warm, North Conway embroidered hoodies. Back at the cottage, we played tic tac toe and hangman with our newly purchased sketch pad and crayons (the old ones were left at home in one of those unnecessary canvas bags) and opened a brand new game of “Sorry.” We visited the Laundromat and local department store several more times after playing in mud slides and ripping one of the three outfits packed for each child (why would you need more than that with a washer and dryer supposedly at your disposal?) Despite the unexpected shopping and expense, our vacation was one of the best and certainly one of the most memorable. As we reluctantly loaded the car at the end of our week, I noticed my husband shifting and repositioning its contents. “One last bag,” I said handing him a stuffed tote of odds and ends. He groaned, and I laughed as I looked into the filled trunk. There was no gray carpeting peeking through this time. The sketch pad stuck upright in the corner with its stick figures and bright, crayon scribbles said it all: CHILDREN ON BOARD.


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july 33

The Non-Existent Right or Wrong of How to Travel by Margo Millure

How to Pack for Europe Much has been written lately on the topic of “packing light.” For some “packing light” has become a bit of an extreme sport. More power to these people. I just don’t happen to be one of them! Some light packers carry on, both literally and figuratively, about their mad packing skills as if to do anything other than pack in a 22” wheel-aboard is a sin equal to forgetting your passport or to register your frequent flier number. In defense of the checked bag My definition of packing sometimes means checking a bag. Before any light packers get all “judgy” out there, in my opinion some of these carryon champions are the same people who have made boarding and de-boarding a plane the new national nightmare. Littering the narrow artery that passes for an aisle with their stress and baggage, they wheel stuffed suitcases that exceed the allowed 22” and clog overhead bins that aren’t made for them. Determined to defy basic laws of physics, they wrench backs and break sweats in an attempt to stuff their pride and joys, which are packed to the density of lead, into spaces designed for briefcases and purses. There is a perfectly fine cargo holder underneath the plane to hold that suitcase. From the looks of things on recent overseas flights, it appears that many people are unaware that on international flights, the first bag can still be checked for free. As a safeguard against lost luggage, I always pack one change of clothes in the reasonably sized bag I do bring onboard with me. Fear of being the “ugly American” As far as what exactly to pack for a domestic or an active vacation, American women seem to have it down. We find it’s usually a matter of packing clothes that we already own and feel comfortable in, and choosing or buying an appropriate outer layer or two. Isolationist Americans we are, it seems we become a bit more self-conscious when we finally make it off the island. Based on how many Google hits my website gets on these topics, there’s a bit of teeth gnashing involved when it comes to wardrobe planning for a visit to Europe. We hold a vision of an otherworldly ideal of how European women dress. For the most part Americans traveling abroad understand that we are ambassadors for our home country whenever we travel, and the last thing in the world we want is to stick out as an “ugly American.” In truth I find that the stereotypical “ugly American” barely exists these days, and if he or she does, so does the “ugly European.” In pretty much any major European city you will find people from many countries who are wearing sneakers and baseball caps and who are loud and don’t speak the language. (Except for Milan, anyway, which is so full of tan, gaunt, well-dressed people, you shouldn’t stay there long unless you enjoy a little self-loathing.) European women generally do indeed dress better than us, but rest assured we’re not talking about an entire continent of women dressed in this year’s couture and ready to wear. We notice the elegant French matriarch in Chanel or the model-esque Italian sidestepping cobblestones in four inch heels. But if you pay attention, invariably you will also see plenty of European women wearing things that you wouldn’t be caught dead in.


Modern classic, meets comfort If Europeans are Armani and Americans are yoga pants, think of the meeting place firmly ensconced in between. The best American looks capture the essence of both worlds, classic European, well cut pieces combined with more American styles featuring comfort, balance and simplicity. Here’s my basic clothing and accessory packing list for a 10 day to two week European vacation. If you are visiting a warmer climate, obviously leave the jacket at home and take only one lightweight sweater and perhaps throw another dress in your suitcase instead. Ignore the media message that you have to spend a lot of money to dress well. Cut and silhouette are important concepts. So if shopping for clothing items ahead of time, lean towards items you are most comfortable in, while at the same time focusing on this year’s silhouettes. For instance, a big thing I’ve noticed this year is the narrower cut of pants, both Capri and full length. As a general rule, always pair the narrow cut top or bottom, with its opposite. It will also serve you well to pick a color palette before starting to pack. I know it may sound boring but for me, black is always a given. Then I pick a neutral, such as grey or khaki, and one favorite seasonal color to mix and match. And do I even need to tell you to forgo white items? Red wine magnets they are! Choose easy care items that don’t need ironing and can be rolled up and packed easily. Lastly remember, even though you can sometimes make everything fit in a carry-on, doesn’t mean you should. After all you’ll want to have room to bring a few items home! Basic clothing and accessory packing list • 2 pairs of pants: one no wrinkle black and one dark wash jean, perhaps a pair of capri pants if the season is right. • One pull on black skirt • 3-4 shirts. Nicely cut tees or otherwise easy care • 2-3 tailored, but comfortable, easy care dresses: One little black travel dress; others in styles and shades that make you feel 10 feet tall • Tailored jacket or blazer, or if it’s more your style, a fitted jean jacket • 2 sweaters – one cardigan, one pull-over • Pashmina for the plane that can double as a travel blanket • One or two scarves that you absolutely love. • Shoes: I take at least 2 pairs and up to 5, including one pair of boots, depending on the season. One pair of non-stiletto heels, several pairs of others that are broken in and good for walking and various activities. I have learned not to skimp on shoes, as my feet appreciate it when I change them often. There is a lot of walking involved in most European vacations, and I rarely wear the same pair for the whole day. • Non-fussy stud earrings. • Opt for a classic cross-body purse that can hold your wallet, camera and a bottle of water. I carry a large camera around, so my bag is actually a camera bag that looks like a purse.


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july 37

gets candid

Meet Jeff McClary, Lindsey Rankin, Luke Rankin, Jr. & Hollings Rankin

The ocean is a powerful draw for those of us who live near its majestic beauty, and a deep respect for the creatures that make it their home is a trait shared by many who love the sea. One of these, the loggerhead sea turtle, Caretta caretta, is South Carolina’s official state reptile and a threatened species. Without intervention, these magnificent turtles, who weigh between 200-300 pounds as adults, may be threatened with extinction. Enter S.C.U.T.E. (South Carolina United Turtle Enthusiasts), an all-volunteer group dedicated to sea turtle conservation in Georgetown and Horry counties. This dedicated group covers 55 miles of beaches, which are patrolled each day at dawn, from May through October. Nests are protected, relocated if necessary and inventories of the nests are done after the hatchlings make their way to the sea. One of its founders, Jeff McClary and more recent volunteers, Lindsey Rankin and her step-children Luke, Jr. and Hollings, met with Sasee to discuss their passion for protecting the turtles. Jeff once walked the beaches, but now he answers the phone starting at dawn, going where he is needed and training new volunteers. If you see him, stop and ask a few questions and get a Santee Cooper S.C.U.T.E. sea turtle bumper sticker and brochure – he is one of our area’s most knowledgeable and passionate sea turtle advocates. Jeff, when did S.C.U.T.E. begin? I moved here from Louisville, Kentucky, in 1982 and met Chris Marlow. He and I started documenting the turtles that washed up on the beaches in 1983. At that time, fishing boats weren’t required to have turtle excluder devices (TEDs) on their nets and many died as a


result. Some summer months, The Stranding Network would see as many as 600 turtles washed up on our state’s shore. We also knew the turtles were affected by artificial lights and began to work toward a county light ordinance that would restrict bright lights on the beachfront during nesting season. We were able to get that passed in 1989, the first in the state for sea turtle protection. S.C.U.T.E. was first permitted by the South Carolina Department of Natural Resources in 1990. We have such a wide variety of people who volunteer for S.C.U.T.E., but they all share one passion – helping the loggerhead turtles recover. The “U” for “United” is the most important letter in S.C.U.T.E.! Volunteers cover the beaches of our area by walking every morning, and they’ll report any turtle activity to their coordinator. Only volunteers permitted by the South Carolina Department of Natural Resources are allowed to move or probe a nest. We also conduct educational presentations in local schools – the children are always interested in what we do, and I love seeing the light bulb go off! Community awareness is also an important part of our work. For years, we kept detailed logs of all turtle activity, but now, all of our data is uploaded to Lindsey how did you and your family get involved with S.C.U.T.E.? I have always loved animals and grew up with a respect for all life. Two years ago, I married Luke and moved

to the beach; soon after I became involved. We have to protect what is here. Thank goodness for S.C.U.T.E. We have a vacation home in DeBordieu and try to help whenever we’re there. I also love seeing the inventories – that’s when they open the nest after the initial hatching, and sometimes there is a turtle or two left in the nest that we get to see make their way to the ocean. Luke, Jr. (15): The turtles have been a part of my life since I can remember. It’s something I have always loved. Of my friends, I do think I am the biggest supporter! We are stewards of the environment.

2 0 t h

A 501 (c) (3) non-profit organization


Hollings (12): I met two of my best friends on the beach while we were at an inventory. It’s a big part of our lives.

PIFMA’s Wearable Art Luncheon

Thursday, September 19 • 11:00 am-1:30 pm • $30 Tommy Bahama Restaurant @ The Market Common

4th Annual Chalk Walk

Saturday, September 28 • 10:00 am-5:00 pm Atalaya Arts & Craft Festival, Huntington Beach State Park Sunday, September 29 (Viewing only)

14th Annual Pawleys Island Wine Gala Friday, October 4 • 7:00 pm • $85, beginning Sept. 1 $100

Marilyn McCoo & Billy Davis, Jr. Originally of The 5th Dimension Saturday, October 5 • 7:00 pm • $75 / $35 / $25

Seaside Palette – en Plein Air Saturday, October 5 • 10:00 am-4:00 pm Various locations in Pawleys Island

Teach My People Collaborative Fundraiser Featuring

Jeff, what should our readers do if they see turtle activity on the beach? Please call me at 843-340-2934, or call the local police. They all cooperate with S.C.U.T.E. Most people are very aware of what we do and are enthusiastic. Thanks to Santee Cooper, we have brochures and bumper stickers available all through the summer season that explain the need for lights out on the beachfront, as well as keeping all holes on the beach filled in.

Elise Testone

Sunday, October 6 • 6:00 pm • $40 / $25

Emile Pandolfi

Wednesday, October 9 • 7:00 pm • $35 / $25


What if someone wants to volunteer? Please give me a call! Or better yet, email me at Let me know where on the Grand Strand that you live and which beach you go to. I will then forward the email to that sections coordinator. I have to warn you though, working with the sea turtles is so addicting that very few volunteers give up their walking spot. A lot of our volunteers have 20+ years of experience. Shop to Help Tip: Locally, Pink Cabana in Myrtle Beach sells Loggerhead Apparel, who donate a portion of their proceeds to the preservation of our turtles.

Thursday, October 10 • 7:00pm • $25

Mac Arnold

Friday, October 11 7:00 pm • $50 / $35 / $25

Movin’ Out Band

The Tabled Event • Saturday, October 12 • 7:00pm • $35 / $25

Tickets on sale now! Call 843-626-8911 or visit

july 39



F o r E c l e c t i c C o l l e c to r s

Celebrating our 20th Year!

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We Love To Dance!

Enjoy one or more of our summer activities Blossoming Ballerinas (Ages 2-3 ½) July 9-11 and 16-18

Dance Camps

(Ages 4-8) July 8-12, 15-19 and 22-26

Summer Classes (All skill levels) July 8-August 2


Ballet-Focus Classes July 8-12

Musical Theatre Camp (Ages 7-17) August 5-9

Open House August 17

Fall Classes

Beginning August 19

Litchfield Dance Arts Academy

Ilka Doubek, Director • 97 Otis Drive, Pawleys Island, SC • 843.237.7465 • Photo by Wayne’s View Photography

july 41

LifeWay® Christian Stores 348 Seaboard St., Myrtle Beach 843-839-9953 •

Jim Varcadipane & Sug McMaster Busy business owners, Jim Varcadipane and Sug McMaster, have very little down time during the tourist season. When asked what they do to get away from it all, Jim was quick to answer, “We love boating, and most Sundays we will hit the river and head to Georgetown!” This couple recently took their dream vacation to Jamaica. “Lying on the beach in Jamaica is now our favorite travel memory because it was our first trip together,” said Sug with a smile. “It’s great to work with someone you love,” began Jim. “We’re business and life partners—Sug is my best friend.” When asked how they feel about flying, both were quick to say that they are not nervous in the air. “We love to travel, so flying is a must!” We live in such a beautiful area and welcome thousands of visitors each year. I asked Sug and Jim if they get a chance to enjoy some of what vacationers come to see and experience. “We wake up at 5 am every day and enjoy the sunrise at our Garden City home, hang out on the beach and watch the ocean waves from our front porch. We also love taking our dogs on the boat,” said Jim. “Sug and I are a great combination. She is a sharp businesswoman, and our customers absolutely love her.” Atlantic Discount Spirits in Garden City and Boot Legger Liquors in Conway are selling all the newest beers, wines and liquors that most other states don’t allow. “Boot Legger Liquors was my first business after I retired to the area and realized I was bored. I soon doubled the business, and then decided to open Atlantic Discount Spirits. I have wonderful customers—both visitors and locals. We’ll be having tastings all summer long—please stop by and try something new!”

Atlantic Discount Spirits 2901 Hwy. 17 S. Garden City 843-357-6232

Boot Legger Liquors 1300 Hwy. 544 Conway 843-347-7479

Bryan Eckardt, manager of LifeWay Christian Stores is a busy retail professional with little down time, especially during the busy summer season. I asked him what he does to get away from the hustle and bustle of work and he said, “I’m a big music person and actually have a band. When I want to relax, I write music and go to the studio and record when there’s time.” When asked what his dream vacation would be, Bryan laughed, saying, “I like to go strange places—really anywhere I haven’t been before. One of my dreams is to go to Russia.” Long distance travel usually involves flying, and Bryan enjoys air travel. “I do love to fly, but I hate take off! I feel like anything bad will happen then.” While he has lots of fond travel memories, Bryan’s favorite was a trip to Disney World during his senior year of high school. “I was allowed to take a friend and it was fun to have someone around besides my family. It was one of my favorite vacations.” Bryan takes time to enjoy the occasional “staycation” in our beautiful area as well. “I love to sit on the beach and clear my head. I am a writer and always bring my tablet and write stories and song lyrics.” LifeWay Christian Stores has a lot to offer customers this summer. “We have a ton of books and DVDs, plus our bargain books that are five dollars or less. Summer means great sales! Our store has such wonderful customers—our repeat customers have become like family. We have visitors who come here every year and say they have nothing like this at home. This is a great place to hang out and interact in a family atmosphere.”

Bryan Eckardt


Sasee readers love to learn more about local community business owners. If you would like more information on being part of this popular section,

Gina Shorthouse

Gina Shorthouse, manager of Carmen! Carmen! Salon e’Spa, is a busy working mom, but when time permits, she loves to get away to the beach for a walk with her husband, one-year old son and their two bulldogs. When asked about her dream vacation, Gina was quick to answer. “I would love to go back to Europe with my family and tour for a month. I spent a semester in Florence, Italy, in college, and we traveled every weekend. It was a wonderful experience.” This seasoned traveler loves to fly, too. “I get my best naps on planes, although that has changed since my son was born!” Travel memories are some of the best, and I asked Gina about hers. “My favorite travel memory is the vacation we just took to Disney World. Our son won’t remember it, but we will never forget his excitement when he recognized the characters. His face just lit up—it was awesome!” Thousands of people travel to our area, but many locals never get to enjoy it—not so with Gina. “When we have family in town, we stay in one of the resorts and enjoy being a tourist. Myrtle Beach does so many things right, and it’s nice to be able to enjoy that.” “We are an innovative salon and spa with great customer service and a talented staff. One of the nice things about Carmen! Carmen! Salon e’Spa is we are believers in continuing education. At least once a month all staff is in training, and we stay up to date on all the latest trends. Our focus is on our clients—they are here to be pampered and have that hour or two to relax. You may choose to be immersed in a serene atmosphere or spend your time chatting with your stylist or even take a nap! Our staff is educated and talented beyond most in our area, and we pair that with our fabulous Aveda product line. We can’t wait to see you!”

Carmen! Carmen! Salon e’Spa at Belk

Coastal Grand Mall, Myrtle Beach 843-839-3193 •

Call us at 843-626-8911 or visit us on Facebook!

Worth the Price by Melissa Face

“Book!” my 19-month-old demands. Evan’s tiny hand grabs the Elmo pop-up book from mine and pulls it into his car seat. Upon closer look, he realizes that this is not the book he had in mind. “No,” he says while shaking his head. “Choo train.” I look down for his vehicle book and hand it to him, hoping he will be satisfied at least until we back out of the driveway. My husband, Craig, pulls our vehicle out onto the highway, and we begin our 5-hour road trip. We are going on summer vacation to Boone, North Carolina. And while we are not strangers to long drives, we are dealing with a new element this year: our toddler. Evan is at a really adorable age, one that I wish I could pause for a while. He has this beautiful zest for life that is rarely seen in an adult. Evan loves dogs, cheese toast, ice cream and vehicles. He especially adores trucks, tractors and trains. And even when he is not able to actually view them, he loves to talk about trucks, tractors and trains. In fact, repetition does not bother him a bit. That’s why I am a little worried about surviving the next four hours and fifty-five minutes. But the car ride goes smoothly, and we fill the time singing, reading, watching passing vehicles and laughing. Evan takes an hour-long nap and before we know it, we are at our cabin in Boone. We don’t make any major plans for the week. We intend to sleep in, cook some good meals, sit by the campfire, walk around the downtown area and visit a few shops. We keep our itinerary open to new possibilities and unexpected fun. That is exactly what happened when we passed an amusement park in Blowing Rock, North Carolina, one afternoon. I had heard of the park, but had no idea we were staying so close to it. It had an old west theme and the main attraction was a steam engine that carried passengers on a three-mile ride through the hills. I had seen a brochure for the place, but I thought it was a little pricey. I also kept in mind some advice from a friend. “You shouldn’t take Evan to expensive parks when he’s really little,” she urged. “Wait until he is five or six. He won’t remember he was there.” I knew she was right. Evan probably wouldn’t remember anything about the


entire trip. He is only nineteen months old. Plus, we had been able to keep him entertained for a very low price so far. We didn’t spend any money showing him the fire trucks in downtown Boone, and it hadn’t cost us a dime for him to play with my brother-in-law’s dogs at the cabin. He was having a blast – for free. Nevertheless, I talked my husband into taking us to the theme park on our last day of vacation. “You know how much he loves trains right now. His taste might change in a couple of years,” I pleaded. “He’s going to be really excited.” And boy was he. Evan bent his knees and clapped his hands when he first heard the train whistle. He pointed and smiled as it approached us and talked and talked about it while we boarded. Evan was a bit wary of the cowboy staff that accompanied us, and he got a little teary when they fired guns during a pretend battle, but all in all, it was a wonderful experience. After we got off the train, we ate lunch in the park. From where we sat, we could watch the train go by, and Evan squealed in delight with each trip it made around the park. “Bye-bye choo choo,” he said, every time it passed us. We stayed at the park a few more hours and rode some rides and played a couple of games. No matter where we were in the park, the train’s whistle was audible, and it always made Evan’s face light up. “Bye-bye choo choo,” he said, over and over again. Craig buckled Evan in his car seat, and we pulled out of our parking space. We started chatting about whether we thought it had been worth the price. “The admission was pretty steep for the number of attractions,” Craig said. “But Evan really liked the train, so I guess it was worth it.” We were heading back towards our cabin on the main highway when Evan waved his tiny hand and said, “Bye-bye choo choo. I love you.” Then, he drifted off into dreamland. Craig’s eyes met mine in the rearview mirror and we both smiled. My friend was right about one thing: Evan probably will not remember going to that park. But my husband and I will never forget it. That moment alone was definitely worth the price.


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Under the Boardwalk by Susan DeBow

I just finished reading a book about a woman and man and their two children who moved to Italy for a year. Currently, I am reading a book about a divorced woman whose long-term relationship with a man has ended, and she sets out in her car to travel across Canada to the Yukon, sleeping in her tent and communing with nature along the way. What is it about travel that makes us see ourselves more clearly? Why does it sometimes take a trip half way around the world to allow ourselves to discover who we are? There are those who travel to see sights, the tower in Pisa lean, the Eiffel Tower spangle at night, the pyramids of Egypt, the Crown Jewels of England, without a thought of changing themselves or their relationships. They travel to “see,” not to “feel.” From the time I was a child, I remember our annual vacations. I can see my sisters and mother, all of us dressed in Bermuda shorts and sunglasses whose corners pinched tightly upwards, standing in the parking lot of Meramec Caverns, Jesse James’ hideout. I see myself standing on the tip of the Grand Canyon, holding my mother’s hand, watching my sisters inch closer to the edge, being afraid they would fall off. And I can’t forget the Chinese restaurant in Hollywood where two waiters spit Chinese words back in forth in what was obviously an intense argument. Mother was nervous. I thought, “How cool is this? Maybe they will deck each other.” We traveled from sight to sight on our way to visit. That is what vacations were. No time for introspection as we barreled down the highway arguing about who was in whose space. I was a sightseer then, a passenger: A passenger in my own life that was directed by parental expectations and my reactions to parental behavior. But as I entered high school, alcohol became a big part of my dad’s journey, while depression pushed my mother into her own world, farther away from mine. My sisters had moved on and away with their own lives. I had no recourse but to be a passenger in my parents’ lives. And as they dealt with their struggles, which I was told not to speak of to anyone, I internalized what was playing out in front of me. This was traveling of a different sort. It was traveling down a road that would later take traveling to another part of the world to get over. My mother had wanted to go to Europe before Europe became a mainstream destination. My father had no interest in Europe, having memories from World War II of stinking, decaying horses in the road, the destruction of buildings and people. Even when one of my sisters lived in Scotland for three years, my parents stayed in Ohio. One year, I was taken on a family vacation in a shrunken family. My sisters were old enough to stay home. I wasn’t. In the motel room in Washington DC, Mother argued with Dad about going sightseeing. He didn’t


want to go as he had been there and done that. Mother put me in the car and immediately went down a one-way street – the wrong way. Dad’s mood lightened when we ate at a famous restaurant in Baltimore, Hausner’s, that was known for its nude painting collection in the bar, which was on the way to the men’s bathroom. My dad must have had a urinary tract infection because he danced himself to the bathroom numerous times that evening. Mother was fine because Hausner’s had a chocolate cream pie that she would have given me away for. Life was good for a few moments that evening since Dad allowed Mom to buy a chocolate cream pie to take with us. The good humor didn’t last as whatever my mother ate was seeking revenge. She had to go. I mean SHE HAD TO GO! We were on a freeway. I can still see myself in the backseat doing the butt-cheek-tighten up, as the tensions in the front seat got higher. Dad couldn’t find an exit. “Henry, I have to go, NOW!” We were going 80 down that highway looking for an exit. I feared the immediate future. An illegal U-turn got us to an exit before the marriage hit the fan. The next day, I accidentally sat on the chocolate pie. Mother getting angry at Virginia Beach and refusing to go eat dinner at 10:30 pm capped off the next night. Dad and I found a diner along the main drag. A few sailors sat in a booth and looked my ironing board twelveyear-old body over as we walked in. When the waitress came over, not appearing too thrilled at our arrival, as closing time was near, my dad said, “What is your vegetable of the day?” The waitress looked as though she would like to turn Dad into a breakfast omelet. “The steamer’s shut off for the night,” she said. “Under the Boardwalk” played on the jukebox. Those were the times in my life before I knew that travel could alter my interior. That it could make me see a world and myself differently. After we had children, we began going on some vacations. We never had money, so the trips were not to Europe or far-flung places. Like my parents’ trips, they often involved stops at relatives. Up until the point I went alone to Ireland, all I knew was that travel was to see things…not change things. I didn’t know that travel could bring change into my life, open up my soul and help me find my voice. I never would have known what these women who have traveled to Italy, ventured to the Yukon and Paris and Bali, were talking about if I had not read a book that made me have to travel to Ireland, not in search of shamrocks or forty shades of green or the Blarney stone, but in search of the voice of a woman who was raised in Ohio, whose real voice had never been heard.


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Glassware Hand Painted in the Carolinas! your place to shop! 843-497-0717 7702 N. Kings Hwy., Myrtle Beach 843.314.3320 Mon. thru Sat. 10 am – 6 pm

9674 Ocean Highway, Pawleys Island, SC 29585

Homespun Crafters Mall. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 16 The Market Common. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 21 Pawleys Island Wear. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .47 Studio 77. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 20 Hopeologist. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9 McLeod Health . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 52 The Pink Cabana. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 49 Sunset River Marketplace. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 41 The Joggling Board. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 45 Me & Mommy. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25 Pounds Away of Myrtle Beach. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 23 Take 2 Resale. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 41 The Kangaroo Pouch. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 32 Miller-Motte Myrtle Beach. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 12 Purpleologist. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9 Taylor’s. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13 Katie’s Project. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8 Millie’s . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5 Rose Arbor Fabrics & Interiors. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 32 Taz. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 29 Lane’s Professional Pest Elimination, Inc. . . . . . . . . . . . 36 Ocean One Austins. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 35 Safe Kids Pee Dee/Coastal. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 28 Treasures Jewelers. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 36 Legacy Antiques. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11 Ooh La La . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 20 Shades & Draperies . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5 The Tulip Tree. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 31 Lifeway Christian Stores . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25 Palmetto Ace Home Center . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 45 Simply Divine. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2 Ultraskin. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 40 Litchfield Dance Arts Academy. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 41 Pawleys Island Festival of Music & Art. . . . . . . . . . . . . . 39 Socialite. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11 The Wacky Rabbit. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 49 Long Bay Symphony. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 51 Pawleys Island Swimwear. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 21 Southern Guys & Gals . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 29 WEZV. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 51

july 49

Visit for a full calendar and more Sasee events!

The Scoop


july 1-29








Angelus: Sacred Music for Women’s Voices, 7-9 pm, Holy Cross Faith Memorial Episcopal Church, 113 Baskervill Drive, Pawleys Island. For more information, visit or e-mail


Sounds of Summer Concert Series, McLean Park, North Myrtle Beach, 7-9 pm. For more info, call 843-280-5570 or visit




Marsh Walk Monday Night Lights, a Summer Firework Series, Mondays, 10-10:30 pm. Murrells Inlet Marsh Walk, Hwy. 17 Business. For more information, visit

Music on Main, Thursdays, Main St., North Myrtle Beach, 7-9 pm. For more info, call 843-280-5570 or visit

Moveable Feast, Stephanie Evanovich discusses Big Girl Panties, 11 am, Capt. Dave’s Dockside, $25. For more info, call 843-235-9600 or visit

TruSol, 7 pm, Brookgreen Gardens, free with garden admission. For more info, call 843-235-6000 or visit


Coastal Birding, 10-11 am, Wednesdays, Huntington Beach State Park, bring binoculars and field guide. For more info, call 843-235-8755.

Ocean Isle Concert Series, Fridays, 6:30-8 pm, Museum of Coastal Carolina parking lot, E. Second St., Ocean Isle Beach, N.C. For more information, call 910-579-2166.

Beauty and the Beast, Brunswick Little Theatre, Odell Williamson Auditorium, Brunswick Community College. For tickets and more info, call 800-754-1050 or visit


Garden City Golf Cart Parade, to benefit Murrells Inlet and Garden City Fire and Rescue, 3 pm, line up at 2 pm, intersection of Calhoun and Hwy 17 Business. For more info, call 843-655-2151.

First Book Summer Luncheon featuring Mary Alice Monroe. 11-1 pm, Inlet Affairs, Murrells Inlet. Tickets $25, proceeds will be used to buy books for Horry County children in need. To purchase tickets, call 843-349-2087 or email

Craftsmen’s Classic Arts and Crafts Show, Myrtle Beach Convention Center, Fri. & Sat. 10 am-6 pm, Sun. 10 am-5 pm. For more info, call 336-282-5550 or visit

2013-2014 Symphony Series





843.448.8379 โ€ข

MADE IN AMERICA featuring Philip Powell, piano SEPTEMBER 29, 2013


featuring Madalyn and Cicely Parnas, violin and cello NOVEMBER 3, 2013

Florals & Fine Gifts


featuring The Carolina Master Chorale: Jeffrey Jones, baritone JANUARY 19, 2014


featuring Kirstin Chรกvez, mezzo-soprano (Litchfield Ballet Co.) MARCH 9, 2014


An Evening of Motown

OCTOBER 19, 2013

APRIL 5, 2014

Be sure to check out the current issue of the Nora Fleming Customize your serving piece. Change it up, mix it up, and make some memories


843-488-4086 225 Kingston St., Conway, SC

july 51

We’re Honored to Welcome One of America’s Best Heart Surgeons. Dr. Schultz Joins Our Talented Heart Team. The McLeod Heart and Vascular Institute is proud to have the best and brightest doctors. And Dr. Scot C. Schultz, board certified Cardiothoracic Surgeon and named one of the Best Doctors in America by Best Doctors, Inc., has all the qualities that make him an exceptional addition. “McLeod impressed me in so many ways. First and foremost, their medical staff is extremely dedicated to the highest quality care. And, they utilize the best cutting-edge technology and techniques in their excellent heart and vascular program,” says Dr. Schultz. With additional honors, including being awarded the distinction as a US News Top Doctor in Thoracic and Cardiac Surgery by his peers and the Compassionate Doctor award by patients, you are in the most capable and expert surgical hands at McLeod Health.

McLeod Heart & Vascular Institute 50648-DrSchultz Sasee 9x10.125.indd 1

5/17/13 7:09:12 PM

Sasee July 2013  
Sasee July 2013  

Volume 12, Issue 7