Floydville Beach

2004-08-12T21:39:00.000-07:00

Dramatic skies all the way home. (This is taken through my dirty windshield!)

2004-08-12T21:38:00.002-07:00

At least everyone in the car pitched in to help keep me awake!

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Driving self portrait. I am sleeping through the mountains while driving with eyes open.

2004-08-12T21:38:00.000-07:00

Kelly Self Portrait. Check out those stunning eyes!

2004-08-12T21:37:00.000-07:00

Audrey loved the horses!

Drive Home

2004-08-12T21:11:00.000-07:00

Just a few minutes ahead of the encroaching storms, we battened down the hatches and headed West. After 30 minutes of packing and 10 minutes of tying down bike rack on trunk, we hit the road. Five minutes later, Dorry was concerned she left some jewelry behind. Off with the bikes, open the trunk and dig. It was there. Repack, reload and retry.

Jeremy and Dorry couldn't miss out on historic Chucktown (Charleston), so we took a short detour--three hours to be exact. Finally, I found the grail (or at least the Catholic bookstore). Pauline Books and Media had a 75% off sale. Kelly circled the block while I browsed. Woo-hoo!

On the drive home, we enjoyed intermittant showers. Breathtakingly beautiful as we entered the mountains. Finally, just outside of Asheville, we stopped for supper at an Arby's. The ten commandments were post beside the register, everyone in the restaurant was FRIENDLY. Finally, we were home. The low country is pretty and Charleston is fascinating, but most of the people are simply not friendly. In fact, the only consistently friendly folks in Charleston were the African-Americans. Many of the whites bordered on rude, but every African-American person I talked to was friendly--East TN friendly. They made me feel welcome.

We talked to one man on the side of the road in a wheelchair. He didn't have legs and was selling incense, but was friendly and full of joy. He told me I could call him "Uncle Ben." Great guy.

Back to Arbys. Great meal, friendly folks and fast. Moments later we were back on the road and moments after that we were home. What a great trip! Thanks for joining us!

2004-08-11T19:28:00.001-07:00

So this is the Mother Church.

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A Huguenot Church.

Who were the Huguenots?

2004-08-11T19:26:00.000-07:00

The bark on these trees peels off like skin.

2004-08-11T19:24:00.000-07:00

Churches are everywhere. (I wonder if they're just musuems or true houses of worship.)

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Cool sign in the Old City Market.

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Horse and buggies are everwhere!

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Kelly gets a candy booster.

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Cool chandelier. Once again, if you squint, you can see the back of my head sitting on the couch through the rails at the top of the stairs.

2004-08-11T19:20:00.001-07:00

These horses are kinda like whales.

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My famous dive pose.

2004-08-11T19:18:00.001-07:00

The market goes on and on and on.

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Kelly sits in front of the Old City Market. Squint and you can see her in the far right corner.

2004-08-11T19:17:00.000-07:00

I think this building is like the leaning tower of Pisa.

2004-08-11T19:15:00.001-07:00

All this and more for only $6.50. What a deal!

2004-08-11T19:15:00.000-07:00

We found a great restaurant for lunch: Jason's Deli.

Day Four - Charleston

2004-08-11T18:43:00.000-07:00

Kelly and I drove over to Charleston for the day. I cannot fully understand or explain the mix of emotions I experienced. Walking around the city, looking at the memorials and even the old homes, I had a sense of sadness and sacredness. In one sense, this place seemed like holy ground.

Why? Maybe because the long history of this city. Maybe because of the lives who were lost in this place. I'm not sure really why. In one sense, this seems a place stuck in the last: whose glory days have forever past. And yet, memorial is important. We must remember: both the honor and dishonor of our past. The grand civilization that once was. The majestic buildings. The stately culture. The terror of human enslavement.

The story of slavery if part and parcel of this region. Out of such suffering has come a cultural mix of African, French and other European influences. This diverse mix has produced a fascinating culture.

This city makes me think of our country. As we honestly learn to face the good and bad of our past, maybe our memories become not simply memorials to past achievements or reminders of bitter pains but the foundation for new possiblities in the future.

Anyway it was a rich day remembering the diverse worlds that converged to form this city.

2004-08-10T21:13:00.000-07:00

Self portrait with wife #2.

2004-08-10T21:12:00.000-07:00

Dinner at the Old Post Office.

2004-08-10T21:11:00.002-07:00

Young swimmer.

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Kelly's find.

2004-08-10T21:11:00.000-07:00

Self portrait #45 by pool.

2004-08-10T21:09:00.000-07:00

Kelly takes a stunning photo of Audrey while I nap.

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Father and daughter.

Day Three

2004-08-10T20:59:00.000-07:00

Slow day. We drove around for a few minutes this morning. Looking at the handful of shops on the island. Kelly saw an interesting antique shop so we pulled in the driveway. The lady ran out to our car and let us know we weren’t supposed to pull in the driveway. Please park out front. We smiled and then left. Lord have mercy on us and her.

After a late lunch, we headed out for the beach by 3:00 pm. Needless to say we’re not on any tight schedule. Two minutes at the beach and I was snoring. That walk was exhausting!

I finally got a chance to read for a few minutes and reread “Rain and Rhinoceros” from Thomas Merton’s little book Raids on the Unspeakable. This delightful little existentialist essay explores our society’s tendency to commodify everything, and the challenge of becoming an authentic person in the midst of inhuman pressures of our culture. I might want to clarify Merton’s point that culture is the source of plastic selves by focusing more on the darkness of our own human heart, but he makes that clarification in other essays. Anyway, reading this essay reminded me of the important of natural wonders that surround us yet we fail to see because of all our techno-gadgets—like this compute I’m typing on. Listen in to Merton as he discusses the rain:

The rain I am in is not like the rain of cities. It fills the woods with an immense and confused sound. It covers the flat roof of the cabin and its porch with insistent and controlled rhythms. And I listen, because it reminds me again and again that the whole world runs by rhythms I have not yet learned to recognize, rhythms that are not those of an engineer.
…………………………………………………………………………………..
What a thing it is to sit absolutely alone, in the forest, at night, cherished by this wonderful, unintelligible, perfectly innocent speech, th emost comforting speech in the world, the talk that rain makes by itself all over the ridges, and the talk of the watercourses everywhere in the hollows!

Nobody started it, nobody is going to stop it. It will talk as long as it wants, this rain. As long as it talks, I am going to listen.

Merton contrasts this world of simple beauty with the manufactured world of the city. He points out that the city comes to believe the lie that only that which is manufactured and bought and sold is real. In a culture of constant strain for the next best thing, I fear this is all too true. These poignant words arrest my attention and help me to focus on the simple beauty of the present moment.

Crashing and thrashing waves
pound and crown the shore.
Peaceful sounds of chaos
crush and rush over
still sands soaked and shaped
by constant colliding waters.
Above this gushing flood,
fizzing foam floats
along the swirling surface.
In this churning and turning
the yearning heart finds
an acquaintance:
both moving in rhythm
to another force.

2004-08-09T20:11:00.000-07:00

Dorry found her foot.

2004-08-09T20:10:00.000-07:00

Staring out in ocean.

2004-08-09T20:08:00.001-07:00

Self portrait #4

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Beach bunnies.

2004-08-09T20:04:00.001-07:00

Audrey dining out.

2004-08-09T20:04:00.000-07:00

Jeremy on vacation! I think he's surfing a beach site.

2004-08-09T20:03:00.000-07:00

Good morning Aurdrey!

2004-08-09T19:59:00.000-07:00

2004-08-09T19:58:00.000-07:00

2004-08-09T19:57:00.001-07:00

2004-08-09T19:57:00.000-07:00

Early morning bike ride

Early morning bike ride.

2004-08-09T19:54:00.000-07:00

The island is completely flat, but I still manage to get winded in the first five minutes! Then I make the clever move of crossing a patch of pine needles. I’m only riding about two miles an hour but somehow I go flying off the bike head first into the pine needles. I think I was actually moving faster in the fall than when I was riding.

Good thing no one saw me. I jump back on the bike and keep riding. When I pass the next group of bikers, I speak and they smile. Not sure if they're smiling to say hi or because pine needles are hanging off the bike, my clothes and even my arms.

Jeremy and I bike onto the beach. Audrey was along but she didn’t actually bike—lazy baby! Somehow the beach access points are invisible from the beach. So when we finally get tired of sinking in the sand, we can’t figure out how to get off the beach and end up crossing through a neighbor’s yard.

Riding the bicycles through these shady lanes awakens memories hidden beneath 30 plus years of other memories and I am back in Oradell, New Jersey exploring all the hidden places of my little town.

Depending on the day,
my bike is a wild mustang galloping across the plains,
a motorcycle rumbling through the busy streets,
or simply a bike wandering down the driveway
and accidentally across the one string fence
my dad erected
to protect his grass that never grows
on the edge of his prized yard.
We pedal down Demarest
past the neighbor;
past the neighbor’s neighbor;
all the way past the McGintey’s house
and further.
Leaving our little street
We launch out beyond the spaces
we know and into space we don’t.
We ride beyond, beyond, beyond
the comfort of a carefree eight year old world
to the wandering and wondering path
of a forty year young man.

2004-08-09T19:53:00.000-07:00

I don't know if I look contemplative or just plain goofy.

2004-08-09T19:52:00.000-07:00

Self portrait with Kelly.

2004-08-09T19:51:00.000-07:00

My love.

2004-08-09T19:50:00.000-07:00

I used to dive in the Jr. Olympics. Junior was my neighbor. J

Day One Notes

2004-08-09T19:45:00.000-07:00

A few more notes from day one followed by a few pix.

We unpack, catch a few minutes of 4400 on USA, and run down to the beach. Well, actually we drive. About a mile away and there is no need in exerting too much energy the first day. After locating the perfect spot, I run down to the water at full speed. Halfway into the tow and I realize the car keys are in my pocket. Somehow stopping and changing directions is too close to an athletic feat, and I crash onto the ocean floor and into the 2 inches of water. Fortunately, the keys are saved, but my knee is bleeding. Of course, I don’t realize this until twenty minutes later when I get out of the water and see a pool of blood streaming down my leg. Good thing the sharks have already gone to bed for the night.

2004-08-09T10:07:00.000-07:00

Audrey's first look at beach.

Jeremy's Beach Blog

2004-08-09T09:03:00.000-07:00

Jeremy is running a concurrent beach blog on our stay at the beach.

Edisto Beach or Bust

2004-08-08T21:00:00.000-07:00

As of last week, we were considering Destin, Fort Walton, Tybee Island, Edisto Island, Isle of Palms (and other Charleston beaches), Pawleys Island, Myrtle Beach, and of course the ever persistant possibility of Pigeon Forge. By Friday, the 'Forge was looking like our destination. Woo-hoo!

Then we counted our loose change. Suddenly, everything "changed" and I was surfing Expedia looking for a cheap flight to Cancun.

By Sunday morning, we had packed the car and were ready to go: we just needed to know where. Cancun was out, Florida was looking far, but the Carolina coast seemed ideal. Cruising down I-40 listening to 40GB worth of tunes, we were calling beaches up and down the coast. By 1:30 pm we had passed through Asheville and were headed down I-26. By 2:30 pm we finally decided on Edisto.

One hour south of Charleston and deep in Marsh country, Edisto seems to be a perfect hideaway. It's so isolated there's not even a Walmart! And all the restaurants close by 9 pm, so last night at 9:30 we were searching for the only grocery store on the island:the Piggly Wiggly. We affectionaly call it the "Pig."

After downing a frozen pizza, everybody crashed. But me. As usual, I stayed up and watched stupid late night movies. Rock me Amadeus baby!