The Breeze June 2016

J u ne 20 16

The Breeze THE MAGAZINE OF BLUFFTON

Bluffton.com

The Breeze JUNE 2016

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FIVE STAR REVIEWS Thanks for all of your help with my Dadʼs home. I was at my wits-end and you sprang into motion. I truly appreciate your kindness.

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NOTES FROM THE EDITOR: Thanks to everyone who stopped by our booth during Mayfest. Our Sales Director Chierie Smith was overwhelmed by the hundreds of compliments she received and readers she met at the event. Of course, her antebellum attire was sure to attract some attention, as well. We try really hard to make The Breeze a magazine that is interesting and informative for all and it is wonderful to hear what you think.

Enough cannot be said about how hard The Bluffton Rotary worked, how much fun thousands had at this year’s Mayfest and how much good the funds will do in the community. Let’s also give a shout out to the Bluffton Police Department for traffic control. We were in and out of the festival area in 20 minutes and everyone was so nice and polite. They don’t get enough credit for what they do!

In this issue of The Breeze, we continue to focus on what makes the Lowcountry so special.

Bluffton is fortunate to have so many dedicated naturalists and environmentalists. When you combine the thoughts of Marine Biologist Amber Hester Kuehn on strand feeding with the amazing nature photography of Eric Horan, you get “The Dolphin Dance,” an article you’re sure to enjoy. For more incredible insights into the natural world around us, look for Eric’s new book, Beholding Nature.

Intent on building “A Living Legacy,” Master James Moore of Bluffton ATA Martial Arts Academy has taught essential life skills to thousands of local students. More than just learning how to kick butt, young martial arts students learn discipline, respect and confidence, while older folks can improve flexibility, lower stress levels and improve muscle tone. New Breeze staffer Allyson Jones stops by the do-jahng to check it out.

We love it when we publish stories by “The Bluffton Boy,” the late Andrew Peeples. Here is a piece on bullies that is still relevant today. Read it to your children, or grandchildren, since he has a way of making you feel as if you were there.

While reminiscing about his own musical career, Jevon Daly tries to think of what might be missing from the local music scene.

Looking back on his time with the Hilton Head High School Marching Seahawks, White Heat, Daly Planet and Lowcountry Boil, he fondly remembers the people and places that have contributed to our present Music Town.

What do you like most about Palmetto Bluff? Is it the architecture, the nature and wildlife or the people? We have a good story on how “The Bluff” has become an integral part of Bluffton and why the Clark family built their beautiful home in a maritime forest at the edge of the May River. It is all about feeling comfortable and being with friends and family.

Juice Bars are here to stay. It is not a fad, it is not a cult, but places where you can get your daily dose of natural, healthy food and relax while chatting with friends young or old. Whether you are searching for smoothies, fresh juices, wraps or salads, Andrea Six visits two places in Bluffton that will help keep you healthy.

Last, but not least, Chase S. Wilkinson pays tribute to his largerthan-life father in “Like a TV Dad.” I would like to sincerely wish all the fathers out there a Happy Father’s Day. Hug or call your Dad, if you can. If not, have him in your thoughts. I love you Dad.

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The Breeze THE MAGAZINE OF BLUFFTON PUBLISHER Lorraine Jenness lorraine@hiltonhead.com 843-757-9889 EDITOR Randolph Stewart randolph@bluffton.com 843-816-4005 COPY EDITORS Allyson Jones allyson@hiltonhead.com 843-757-9889 Andrea Six andrea@hiltonhead.com 843-757-9889 SALES DIRECTOR Chierie Smith chierie@bluffton.com 843-505-5823 GRAPHIC DESIGNER Liz Shumake liz@hiltonhead.com 843-757-9889 ART DIRECTOR Jennifer Mlay graphics@hiltonhead.com 843-757-9889 CONTRIBUTING WRITERS Jevon Daly, Allyson Jones, Amber Hester Kuehn, Andrew Peeples, Andrea Six, Randolph Stewart, Chase S. Wilkinson PHOTOGRAPHERS , ARTISTS Joe Bowler, Eric Horan, Andrea Six, Chierie Smith CORPORATE OFFICE 40 Persimmon St. Suite 102 Bluffton, SC 29910 843.757.8877 DISTRIBUTION Bruce McLemore, John Tant 843.757.9889 The Breeze is published by Island Communications and The Breeze Media, LLC. All rights are reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or stored for retrieval by any means without permission from the Publisher. The Breeze is not responsible for unsolicited materials and the publisher accepts no responsibility for the contents or accuracy of claims in any advertisement in any issue. The Breeze is not responsible or liable for any errors, omissions, or changes in information. The opinion of contributing writers do not necessarily reflect the opinion of the magazine and its Publisher. All published photos and copy provided by writers and artists become the property of The Breeze. Copyright. 2016.

CONTENTS

JUNE 2016, VOLUME 14, NO. 6

F E AT U R E S

08 The Bullies 12 The Dolphin Dance 18 Joe Bowler from Illustration

to Portraiture 20 Fact or Pulp Fiction 26 That Magical Place Called Palmetto Bluff

32 A Living Legacy

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40 What's Missing in

Bluffton's Music Scene?

44 Like a TV Dad

D E PA R T M E N T S

08 History 12 Environment 20 New Businesses of Bluffton 24 Faces of Bluffton 26 Architecture 36 Tide Chart 38 Thoughts in the Breeze 40 Bluffton: Music Town 42 Restaurant Guide 44 Comedy

ON THE COVER: Photo by Eric Horan

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HISTORY

The Bullies

By Andrew Peeples

E

xcept for one thing, Bluffton was the best place in the whole world for a boy to live. It was on a beautiful river, three tidewater coves cut right through it, every yard and all of the crushed-shell streets were shaded with live oaks, and most of the grown people loved children. But there were a few young bullies in Bluffton, and they made my life miserable.

I couldn’t help envying my brother Philip, who was four years older than I was. He had the courage of a lion and the speed of a panther, and bullies shunned him like the plague. One brush with Philip usually lasted a bully a lifetime.

Once, a tall lanky boy from somewhere out west came to Bluffton to spend the summer.

He wore cowboy boots and a cowboy hat.

He smoked Bull Durham cigarettes and used words that we boys in Bluffton had never heard before. His father, he said, was a cowboy and had killed about 20 train robbers.

One day that cowboy’s boy came down to the wharf at the foot of the main street while a gang of us Bluffton boys were swimming. He stood near the edge of the wharf and rolled a Bull Durham as he watched us do some fancy diving into the swift-running channel. Philip walked over to him and asked him if he liked to swim.

“Cripes a-mighty no,” he said. “I leave that to fish and you slimy b------s.”

Before the boy could lick his Bull Durham, Philip connected a stiff uppercut with his chin and knocked him overboard, cowboy hat, cowboy boots and all.

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The channel was 30 feet deep, and the boy must have gone all the way to the bottom. It seemed like an hour before he finally bobbed up out of the water, sputtering and pawing the air, the way a puppy does the first time you throw him in. He stayed up about 10 seconds and then went down again.

Somebody yelled that he was drowning, and Philip plunged in after him. As soon as the boy surfaced the second time, Philip locked his arms around his neck and towed him to the slip. While Philip was doing that, Johnny Harrison dived in and retrieved his cowboy hat.

After he got through coughing and rubbing salt out of his eyes, he wanted to know why Philip hit him.

“Jumping Jehosiphat,” he said, “out where I come from a fellow’s not your friend till you call him a -------” “But you’re not out where you came from now,” Philip said. “You’re out here in Bluffton where a ------- doesn’t even know who his papa is.”

I don’t know whether that boy was a real bully or not. But he never called anybody in Bluffton that name again. He turned out to be a wonderful fellow, and everybody, including Philip, liked him. Philip taught him how to swim before he went back out west.

Then there was the summer that my cousin from Savannah was visiting Grandpa and Grandma Guilford in Bluffton. One day Cousin slipped a crocus sack over my head and arms and fastened it around my waist with a piece of Grandpa’s fishing line, making me as blind and helpless as a kitten with his head in a salmon can.

Cousin had more fun that day than he’d ever had in Savannah in all his life. He crammed spurs into my pants and made me sit in ants’ nests until I screamed with pain. He pinched me and tickled me and lashed

my bare legs with Grandpa’s buggy whip. He pushed me into Grandma’s flower beds and said he was going to show her my tracks. He poured a bucket of water over my head and threw me down and rolled me around in the black dirt. That was what he was doing when Philip happened to come up. I heard his voice when he asked Cousin who was in the sack.

“It’s me, Philip!” I cried. “Please get me out of here before I smother to death!”

Philip cut the string from around my waist with his pocket knife. He pulled the sack from my head, and before Cousin could make a dash for the house, Philip had the sack down over his head and arms and tied securely around the waist.

“Turn about is fair play,” Philip said.

For the next hour, Philip and I did everything to Cousin that Cousin had done to me, plus a lot of other things that we thought up as we went along. The last was to tie Cousin to a tree. Philip cut a slit in the sack and crammed his handkerchief into Cousin’s mouth, so he couldn’t holler for help. We poured a bucket of water over his head and covered him with shell dust scooped up from the street in front of Grandpa’s house.

We left Cousin there squirming and groaning and trying his best to get out of that wet crocus sack.

In school, a bully always sat directly back of me, and amused himself by pulling my curls and pinching me and sticking pins through the crack in the bottom of my seat.

One boy used to keep a nail driven through the toe of his shoe. Every morning before he left home, he filed the nail as sharp as a needle. While I was busy studying my lesson, he would open a book on his desk and pretend to be studying, too. With perfect accuracy, he would lift his foot and guide the nail up through the crack of my seat—and straight into me. When I hollered “ouch,” he would quickly raise his hand and ask the teacher to please make me keep quiet so that he could study his lesson.

Inside the building, bullies could go only so far with their attacks on me. But when we were outside, I was on my own and had to do the best I could. They tripped me up and pushed me around whenever they felt like it, and I was too scrawny to do anything about it. Nor could I expect help from Philip, because he was several grades ahead of me and our rooms weren’t turned out at the same time.

There was a certain boy whom, for obvious reasons, I shall call Bully. He bided his time to beat me up. I think he hated me because he thought I had access to all the candy I wanted in Papa’s store. He didn’t know why Papa displayed his rack of buggy whips so conveniently near the candy showcase.

One day after school he was waiting for me in the street in front of the schoolhouse. The moment I started down the steps I saw that I was heading for trouble. Bully had given his books to another boy to hold. His head was lowered like

A brush with Philip usually lasted a bully a lifetime. a bull’s when he’s ready to charge, and he was looking right at me. I had no doubt that the dreaded moment had come.

Bully was short and all muscle. His tiny ears laid close against the sides of his head. He had been plowing his father’s mule ever since he was old enough to say gee and haw, and his hands were large as a man’s. A strain of Indian blood flowed in his veins, and he could shoot a 22 with both eyes closed and never miss. One time I saw him come out of the woods with 52 squirrels hung over his shoulders. He had killed them all with 50 cartridges. Even if I hadn’t been afraid of his plowhand fists, I would have trembled at the thought of what he could do to me with a piece of hot lead.

As I approached him, he sidled over to me. He walked along with me shoulder to shoulder, breathing threats against the side of my face.

“You think you’re something when Philip’s around,” he said.

“But you ain’t nothing by yourself, and I’m gonna knock your block off.”

I believed that he could, and I didn’t see any point in trying to prove it. I didn’t answer him. I didn’t even look at him. I The Breeze JUNE 2016

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just kept on walking, but my heart was running away and my stomach was crowding my tonsils.

“I can beat a scrawny scary-cat like you,” he said, “with one hand tied behind my back.”

He could have said he could beat me with both hands tied behind his back, and I wouldn’t have doubted it.

“Put your books down and fight,” he said, “if you haven’t got a streak of yellow running up and down your spine.”

I didn’t know what color it was, but I knew something was running up and down all over me, and whatever it was had me all broken out with goose pimples.

“I dare you to fight,” he said. “I dare you to fight. I dare you to fight.”

Three times he said it, and each time loud enough to attract the attention of all the children in range of his voice. Immediately a crowd of fight fans was trailing along behind us, urging us to fight, or rather urging me; Bully already had the urge.

I hooked my books higher under my arm and pretended not to hear what they were saying.

very thought that he might be standing in the front door of the store filled me with panic. More than once had he warned me to “steer clear of that roughneck boy.” I had to do something and do it now.

Throwing caution to the wind, my books to the ground, and my arms round Bully’s neck, I flung him with all my might against Dr. Kirby’s fence. It was an old rusty fence, and the weight of his body tore the wire loose from the ground board to which it was nailed. He fell flat on his back between the wire and the board, and both hands got caught in the wire. Following up my advantage, I fell on top of him and pummeled his face with all the strength I could put behind my fists, until he hollered ‘nuff. Then I got off of him and picked up my books.

Dixie helped him get his hands free. Then he stood up and brushed his clothes. Then, without once looking at me, he took his books back from the boy who had been holding them and headed straight for home without saying a word.

I was a hero. Glory and honor were heaped upon my unbowed head. I was in a class with Philip and Jack McWhorter. No longer was I a scrawny scaredy-cat to be pushed around.

“Fight him, Kink,” somebody yelled. “You can beat him.” About a week after that, I was down on the wharf alone, “Yeah,” somebody else said, “you can beat him. Jack fishing for sheepshead. A tall long-armed boy came down there on a brand-new bicycle. It was equipped from stem to McWhorter beat him yesterday.” stern with all of the latest fads. It even had a coon’s tail and There was poor consolation in that. Jack McWhorter was a rabbit’s foot dangling from the handlebar. I asked the boy almost as husky and fast as Philip. where he got such a fancy bicycle, and the next thing I knew “You can beat him, too,” Dixie Hubbard said. “I’ll make him he had me off at arm’s length and was pounding a galaxy of stars out of my head. He would teach me, fight fair.” he said, not to make fun of his bicycle. If Dixie was in front of us and walking backward while he my younger brother Luke hadn’t come talked. A Duke’s Mixture cigarette was hanging from one to my rescue with a brickbat in one side of his mouth. He was a farm boy with round shoulders hand and a huge stick in the other, and a long stringy neck. He was tough as an alligator and there might have been a new grave wasn’t afraid to tangle with a wildcat. By “fair” he meant that in the Bluffton Cemetery. But he wouldn’t let Bully twist my nose and ears off or gouge my that’s another story. eyes out. He wouldn’t let him do anything but bloody my "Bluffton Boy, The Collected nose and knock a few teeth out and crack a rib or two.

Short Stories of Andrew We were approaching the corner of Dr. Kirby’s fence, where Peeples" used by permission we would turn into the main street not far from Papa’s store. from Mildred Peeples For me, fighting anywhere was bad enough, but to fight in Pemberton, daughter of Andrew sight of Papa was a calamity to be avoided at all costs. The Peeples. (right).

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Stee a tim need

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THE DOLLENBERG TEAM | ERIC 843.816.6489 | HILLARY 843.290.3063 | ERICDOLLENBERG.COM 11 The Breeze JUNE 2016

ENVIRONMENT

By Amber Hester Kuehn, Marine Biologist and owner of Spartina Marine Education Charters

he ran across the yard as fast as her bare feet could take her. Practically ripping the screen door off of its hinges, she took one deep breath and screamed, “Mama! The dolphins are doing their ballet again! Come quick!”

Running back across the yard, across the pine cone stickers, to the edge of the bluff, she caught the finale as three dolphins slid back down the mud bank into the water across the May River. It was finished, and in the distance, she heard her mother’s Savannah drawl announcing, “Honey, I’m comin’...I’m comin’.”

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She had taken dance lessons for two whole years and knew a routine when she saw one. Child logic is inspiring.

In a way, it was a dance of sorts, synchronized movements that were repeated the same way at every performance. It would be 30 years later when she would be able to explain that this is a feeding behaviour performed by Atlantic bottlenose dolphins and is found primarily in Beaufort County, South Carolina. I still call it a dolphin ballet.

When I explain the strand feeding behaviour to my passengers aboard Spartina, I start with the fish.

Beaufort County is the nursery of the ocean with 200,000 acres of marsh grass (Spartina alterniflora), which provides plenty of safe hiding for small fish at high tide. You can think of it as an enormous dolphin snack pantry. When the tide ebbs, the water leaves the grass and so do the fish.

Since fish are not brilliant, the majority do not disperse into the waterway. Instead, they get as close to the safety of the marsh grass as possible, congregating at the water’s edge.

Of course, the dolphins realize that there is a buffet waiting

for them at low tide and, just to make it more interesting, they perform a strand feeding routine. And so it goes...

The dolphins charge the pluff mud bank and the tidal wave they create slings the fish onto the crest of the mudflat slope. The water rushes back down the slope, due to gravity, and into the waterway. The fish are flipping and flopping on the mud, stranded without water. Cue the birds: Somehow the birds get advanced tickets for the show because they are expecting it. They swoop in to take advantage of the fish that are flailing on the flat, but just as they are about to steal the show, the dolphins emerge onto the mud flat on their right side. It is always the right side. (A dolphin’s anatomy is slightly asymmetrical to the left, so pressure on the organs should be minimized. Dolphin can weigh up to 600 pounds and the weight is normally supported by sea water, hence, the pressure will be applied on the right side.)

Grabbing fish off of the mud always results in a little silt (fine sand) in their mouth, so dolphins that perform this behaviour year-round have ground down dentition on the The Breeze JUNE 2016

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right side. Fish are swallowed whole, head first and enter a three-chambered stomach for break down. This feeding behaviour involves some aerobic activity, so blood rushes to the surface of their skin, similar to your skin getting flush after a jog. You may see pink bellies.

The finale is the exit. In unison, the dolphins slide back down the mud bank and enter the water. If the bank is not steep, they will use their tail for leverage to wiggle down the slope. The birds are still clamouring and tend to follow the dolphins like lazy groupies in a travelling show.

From start to finish, the entire performance lasts less than a minute and it is not scheduled. If you are in the right place at the right time, consider yourself very blessed.

Speaking of lazy, the dolphins cannot dance their way into free meals anymore. In the past, they have been known to beg boaters for treats, but in 1992, the Marine Mammal Protection Act (1972) was amended to make it is a federal offense to feed dolphins. Dolphins have eventually come to the realization that, for the most part, the gravy train has dried up.

However, they are shrimp boat groupies and are able to distinguish the sounds of individual motors humming their way back into the sound. Fishing boats “haul their catch” (throw bycatch or unused bait overboard). Both fin and feather gather to snack on the fish that fall over the

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gunnels. Stunned, or fresh dead, these fish are easy targets for lazy marine life. Despite this habituation, dolphins do not stick around to welcome shrimp boats and do not rely on them as their primary food source. They are here to eat as much as they possibly can—and it is all in the Spartina!

“OK, Honey, what did you want to show me?”

“Mama, you missed the whole thang!”

Little did she know that this was one of many experiences on the May River that would shape the child’s future. I did not attend the debutante ball or marry a good Southern boy, but I have my roots planted firmly at the edge of that bluff, watching the dolphin perform the most impressive dance I’ve ever seen. The picture that was the inspiration for this article can be found in Eric Horan’s new book, Beholding Nature. The title conveys the majesty of divinely inspired local treasures he has digitally captured over the years. These pictures conjure nostalgia for some of us and wonder in all.

Photography courtesy of Beholding Nature, Photographer Naturaralist Eric Horan Eric Horan Photography / Lowcountry Photo Safaris www.horanphoto.com

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For more information call 843.524.3037.

See a current schedule of tour dates at www.horanphoto.com

The Breeze JUNE 2016

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O L D T O W N

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You don’t want to miss historic Bluffton near the May River for some of the most unique shopping and dining in our area. It’s all blended with colorful and creative art galleries, history up and down local streets, and dining for lunch and dinner in charming settings. The Bluffton Old Town Merchants Society warmly encourages visitors to come and spend an afternoon or a day discovering historic Bluffton.

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To celebrate their 10th anniversary, Four Corners Fine Art Gallery presents “Bluffton Connection, featuring the work of Joe Bowler,” which will be on display until July 16. Joe Bowler, an illustrator turned portrait painter, holds several honors, including 1967 Artist of the Year by the Artist’s Guild of New York and a gold medal for lifetime achievement by The Portrait Society of America in 2014.

Joe was born in Forest Hills, New York, in 1928 with the natural ability to draw. At the age of 17, he started his lifelong career as an artist. He went to work at Cooper Studios as an apprentice, and his first illustration was sold to and published in Cosmopolitan when he was 19. Working at Cooper’s, he had the opportunity to learn the craft from some of the finest illustrators and artists in the profession.

Joe had the good fortune to meet, and then marry, Marilyn C. Crang in 1950. They met in the summer of 1948 while Marilyn was studying at Parsons School of Design. Marilyn was not only his wife and the mother of their two daughters, Jolyn Louise and Bevan Brynne; she was an integral part of his business.

In 1958, Joe was hospitalized with polio, which left him almost completely paralyzed. Brought home after a month, he began the hard work of recuperation with the help of an outstanding physical therapist with whom he worked for the next seven years.

Within three months he completed an illustration for the Saturday Evening Post and continued his success as an illustrator through the ‘60s.

Seeking a warmer climate, Joe and Marilyn moved to Hilton Head Island in 1972. This proved to be the ideal location in which to make the transition from illustration to portraiture. Joe had made the conscious choice to paint in a traditional manner and consequently he sought inspiration and expansion of his knowledge as a painter by studying the great masters, including John Singer Sargent, Joaquin Sorolla and Anders Zorn.

With the move to Hilton Head, Marilyn became Joe’s representative in portraiture. This included

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contacting clients, public relations, protecting his painting time and setting up and executing portrait shoots. She was also his fairest and most trusted critic. Marilyn died in March of 2008 and is missed beyond words.

“Obtaining a likeness is no great problem for me. Creating a beautiful painting to which anyone can respond, even if they don’t know the subject, this is the challenge,” Joe explained. “I am inspired by the great painters of the 19th and early 20th centuries. Constantly, I return to my library to look at the superb work of the European, Russian and American artists.”

Joe continues to paint, and even after almost 70 years as a working artist, he still strives for improvement.

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F I T C C T A F ION Pulp Or

By Andrea Six Said to promote weight loss, skin health, boost your metabolism and immune system and reduce the risk for heart disease, Alzheimer’s and eczema, juicing seems like the jolt everyone needs to kick start their healthy lifestyle. But is this brightly-colored boost in a bottle as beneficial as people say?

You’ve heard about it—the buzz of bottled fruits and veggies. Big cities and celebrities hopped on the bandwagon, doctors have debated it and now the craze has bounced into Bluffton, where sweet elixirs come in the form of sugarsaturated tea, booze and beer. But there’s a new drink in town that’s challenging health standards.

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“I hear more and more in this area, people wanting to get into it,” says Juice Hive owner Leslie Rolhand.

“The elderly, the people who are sick, young people that are just on a health kick, people that have specific dietary restraints—vegans, gluten free and the lactose intolerant.”

Juicing whole vegetables into fistpounding purees isn’t a new concept; it’s been around in today’s form since the 1930s, when Dr. Norman Walker published the book “Raw Vegetable Juices” and The Norwalk Juicer debuted.

But maybe it was just a new way to do something that’s been done for hundreds of years.

It’s said that the Dead Sea Scrolls, which are estimated to date back to 100 B.C., contain some of the first documented evidence of juicing.

Steven Bailey and Larry Trivieri’s 2007 book, “Juice Alive,” claimed it was a tradition from Jewish and Essene people, who were known to follow a vegetarian diet, to make a “pounded mash of pomegranate and fig” to achieve “profound strength and subtle form.”

Sound familiar?

Jammin’ with the Juicer Fast-forward a few centuries and your average health-centric Joe will spend $100 to $400 on a juicer and a Hydraulic Norwalk juicer can cost

over $2,000. With two main types of juicers—centrifugal and masticating— there are different ways to make the vegetables into juice. While centrifugal juicers use a fast-spinning blade and a mesh filter, a masticating (or coldpressed juicer) squeezes and crushes the fruit and vegetables to extract the juice. Generally, masticating juicers are able to provide a more nutrientrich drink because the centrifugal juicer produces heat from the spinning blade, causing some nutrients to be lost.

at Affordable Healthcare—uses a centrifugal juicer.

The Juice Hive is not only a juice bar, but a healthy lunch spot that provides lunches on the go, which guests can take with them, eat inside or outside on the shaded patio. Their menu boasts everything from an array of salads (dubbed Gloria’s Greens) and Zany Zoodles (zucchini noodle plates) to wraps, earth bowls (complete with heirloom beans, grains and greens) and, of course, smoothies and juices with a slew of boosters and superfoods to mix in. In addition to the to-go counter, The Juice Hive also has a supplement side, an “emporium” room stocked with all kinds of supplements, superfoods and holistic medicines.

“We’re not trying to cure anything; we’re trying to support people’s health journey,” Rohland points out. “Because everyone has a different journey that they’re on.”

Bluffton Bound In the last year, two juiceries have opened bars on two different Bluffton blocks, each producing their own nutrient-rich tonics a different way. While Bluffton Village’s Juice Hive—owned and operated by The Cottage’s Leslie Rohland—uses a masticating juicer, Sheridan Park’s Juice Bar—brainchild of Jenny Bazzle

On the other side of town, The Juice Bar provides another approach. Instead of a selection of supplements, they have doctors right next door at Affordable Healthcare, as well as a medical spa. With a much smaller kitchen, The Juice Bar’s menu focuses on juices and smoothies, with different wraps making an appearance every month.

“Our most popular juice is probably the Alkalizer, followed by the Energizer The Breeze JUNE 2016

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The Juice Bar and May River Sunrise, but they’re all extremely good,” Brittany Yeager, the manager of The Juice Bar, reveals.

“Smoothie-wise, Berry Beneficial, Vita-man and Strength tend to be on top.”

Good to the Core?

With names like Beet Smart, Immune Booster, Garden Detox, Happy Heart and Energizer, juice bar menus can easily convince customers that they’re just what they need to fix these problems. But are they?

“A variety of people will walk in here and sometimes people are deficient or hurting in some way, while others are just looking for general health,” explains Zachary Moore at The Juice Hive’s Health Emporium. “In both cases, nutrition, and in some instances herbs, can be very helpful to nudge people in the right direction. But they still have to get sleep, exercise and manage stress.”

While recent studies—“Fruit and Vegetable Juices and Alzheimer’s Disease: The Kame Project,” “Effects of one week juice fasting on lipid metabolism: a cohort study in healthy subjects,” “Health effects of mixed fruit and vegetable concentrates: a systematic review of the clinical interventions” and “Can pure fruit and vegetable juices protect against cancer and cardiovascular disease too? A review of the evidence”—have shown that juicing promotes weight loss and skin health, boosts your metabolism and immune system and delays the onset of Alzheimer’s disease; but it does not cure these things or work alone.

“At the base of it, people have to have a foundation where they’re getting good sleep, drinking plenty of water, managing stress,” Moore emphasizes. “Ultimately it comes down to them. They have to learn how to drive their bodies, which is really the best thing.”

The reason juicing has come to tout all these health benefits is simple: the vegetables are packed with nutrients our bodies need. Of course they’re going to help your health!

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On the patio at The Juice Hive “You probably don’t realize how much vegetables or fruits you’re getting in one particular juice. It’s a lot,” says Yeager. “For a quart of carrot juice, which is 32 ounces, we have to use maybe 15 or more carrots, depending on the size.”

In the United States, more than one-third (78.6 million) of adults are obese, according to a 2011-2012 study in the Journal of the American Medical Association. The majority of people aren’t getting the vegetables they need on a daily basis and if juicing helps, then it’s definitely worth a try. Especially since eating more veggies is dietary advice everyone could use.

The Cold-Pressed Truth With every good thing, there are potential evils and juicing is no different. If you’re planning to make it a regular regimen, then be wary of what’s in your cup. Adding an abundance of fruit will also add up calories from simple sugars, which will not help if your goal is to reduce calories and lose weight. Plus, the acid from fruits can also result in tooth damage.

Several doctors have debunked detoxes, saying they’re a clever marketing strategy that doesn’t deliver. In a 2016 New York Times article, Dr. James H. Grendell, the chief of the division of gastroenterology, hepatology and nutrition at Winthrop-University Hospital in Mineola, New York, explained that people are interested in detoxing but don’t know what they need to rid themselves of and don’t realize that the body is designed to eliminate the toxins that shouldn’t be there.

If you’ve picked up the juice bottle for bikini season, just remember that jogging and juicing should go hand in hand. Drinking juices doesn’t automatically make your lifestyle healthy, but it is a good first step. It’s never too late to trade that shot of whiskey for wheatgrass!

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Send your selfies to Chierie@Bluffton.com

Faces of Bluffton

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ARCHITECTURE

That Magical Place called 26 bluffton.com

Palmetto B

By Randolph Stewart

d

J

ust across the May River from Bluffton, South Carolina, lies the 20,000-acre Palmetto Bluff. In just a short time, “The Bluff,” as locals call it, has become just as important as Old Town in the community. The development philosophy from the beginning was to preserve the maritime forests, the river’s abundance and the historic character of Old Town.

Today, the two places are one. As stewards of the environment working towards common goals, church friends and charity volunteers now enjoy shopping and dining together in Old Town, in what has become a shared future.

I asked Hillary Dollenberg of Weichert Realty to show me a home in Palmetto Bluff that tells a story-one that exemplifies the place, the lifestyle and the Lowcountry’s heritage. After an idyllic ride on a road winding through oak and pine forests, we arrived at a home whose exterior only gives a peek of what is to come. First, you notice the preserved “snag” habitat in front of a structure utilizing multiple understated building components—brick, horizontal siding, metal roofing, different plate heights and dormer types—but each serving a purpose. Seeing this single-story home nestled on the banks of the maritime forest along the May River, it’s obvious this is a special place.

Left to patina, the copper-clad entrance opens into an entry hall with a herringbone floor design and glowing wood barrel ceiling high above. All of the exposed woods came from a single barn in Virginia and were processed on site. Imagine heart of pine, maple and oak taken from the same old barn and given a new life in Palmetto Bluff ! Looking around, you will admire the pair of Marge Agin photographs opposite the oversized pocket doors leading to the study. The foyer, study, living, dining, screen porch, kitchen and breakfast areas seamlessly flow into each other; each with its own sense of place and unique view. After entering the

o Bluff

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foyer, a formal dining place—not room—comes into view.

A painted breakfront built for the space, the recycled wood floors, the warm rug and furniture and the view of the woods outside through tall windows with transoms, make the entry and dining experiences comfortable, happy and inviting. Like the rest of the home, they were just the right accessories, art and fixtures to tell the tale of a family. All of the walls throughout the home are rabbeted MDF made with poplar corners and trim. There is no drywall to be seen!

and Tressa took a trip from Tennessee to see it for themselves and realized what his father had been talking about.

Larry and Tressa had a vision: both of their grandfathers were builders and this would be their biggest rodeo. When the time came—and with the help of Bluffton Architect Michael Vicarrio and Bay Creek Builders of Charleston— they began construction in Palmetto Bluff. For two years, Tressa and Larry were intimately involved in the design and construction process, and it shows. The attention to detail is subtle, comfortable, sustainable and a part of nature; there is no corner left untouched. The couple also made a new friend in Charlene Gardner of Four Corners Gallery, and together they found the right artists, art and sculptures for the finishing touches.

Beyond the living room lies an 800-square-foot screened porch with a fireplace, living, entertainment and dining areas. This room gives a sense of touching nature. Stepping outside from the porch, Hillary introduced me to Larry Clark as he was stoking the fireplace centered on an intimate outdoor entertaining area; a great spot to watch as day turns to night and listen to the tree frogs start their symphony. The kitchen is a gathering and cooking space. The use of the brick arch surrounding the stove and piercing the cathedral Larry made me feel instantly comfortable. wood ceiling, with its glazed brick back wall, anchors the Curious, I asked why the Clarks had chosen Palmetto Bluff. space. The cabinets are designed, colored and detailed as if Larry and Tressa’s journey to Bluffton began in the 1970s when they evolved over time. Box Dwan with Integrety Cabinets Larry’s father worked for Union Camp and he would often take of Hilton Head is to be noted for his execution of the trips to the Old Lodge for meetings, hunting and fishing— Clark’s ideas. Each cabinet has a form and function and the and, probably, some great food and drink as well. Each time feel of furniture. The breakfast room beyond has a roomhe returned home, he told his son of this “magical place called size bookcase containing hundreds of cookbooks Tressa Palmetto Bluff.” Even before the development was open, Larry collected throughout their life together. Obviously, Larry is

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the official taster/cleaner-upper and it’s no surprise that this is their favorite room!

But just when you thought it could not get any better, you discover a summer kitchen. This intimate kitchen is used for everyday cooking when it is just the two of them, canning, crafts or preparing for catered functions. Tressa said in her Tennessee drawl, “Make the mess in the summer kitchen when you entertain, so you don’t have to worry about it.”

Her favorite Southern dish is a macaroni salad, handed down from her granny.

The rear hall is well thought out and terminates with a sculpture niche. The walls and tall barrel arch ceiling were made of wormy oak, milled on site by Dave Bear and his crew of fine carpenters. Off the hall is a complete bar, utility room, summer kitchen, powder room with a converted French farm trough as the sink, fitted walk-in butler’s pantry and another access to the main kitchen, guest bedroom and carriage house with a complete suite above.

The master suite has access from both the study and private hall. The continuation of wood floors, walls and ceiling, the striped denim fabric, plus a blue accent wall and an antique oriental, complete the space, complementing the lightcolored walls and furniture with brightly colored accessories and fresh tulips by the windows.

Walking into the master bath is like entering another world with its white Carrara marble borders, mosaic floor of marble tile and platinum inlay “faux rug” field. The clawfoot lounging tub is under the windows and the all-encompassing mirrors reflect nature and expand the room. The walk-in shower has a marble floor, walls and ceiling, with high glass windows flooding the room with morning light. Again, the attention to detail is seen in the Waterworks fixtures, accessories, carefully chosen light fixtures and glass cabinets on top of the vanity. Savannah Hardscape and John Rangos are responsible for supplying and masterfully installing all of the brick and stone throughout the home. Rangos even gave up the wonderful antique French farm trough to the Clarks he was saving for his own home.

Beyond its features and site on the May River, the most important aspect of this home is the personality of the Clark family expressed throughout. Larry modestly stated that they feel more blessed than they deserve. When their grown children, grandkids or friends visit, they “feel at home.”

Larry’s father and mother have moved to Hampton Lake, and his brother and sister-in-law have bought a lot at The Bluff.

Tressa just took up golf and the couple plays every day. Even when it's closed, "...it is so peaceful and you notice everything more." Every holiday, they have a traditional dinner hosting their family and friends who do not have families coming to visit. “We wanted everyone to feel comfortable and make themselves at home.” They love The Bluff, the wildlife, Old Town and all it has to offer. Larry remarked, “Sometimes I feel like I am in Mayberry.”

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“Sir/Ma’am, I will practice in the spirit of Taekwondo; with courtesy for fellow students, loyalty for my instructor and respect for my juniors and seniors, sir/ma’am.”

—The Songahm Spirit of Taekwondo Oath Before every class at Bluffton ATA Martial Arts, students bow in as a show of respect to their instructors. Then, for at least a brief moment, phones and other electronic devices are ignored as children make eye contact with their parents.

Emphasizing personal development, character, physical fitness and students’ potential—rather than just fighting ability—Master James Moore has taught essential life skills through Taekwondo to thousands of students throughout the Lowcountry and Coastal Empire.

The Savannah native’s extensive experience in martial arts began when he was seven and took classes to build up his confidence and fill the void left by an absentee/ abusive father. He continued to train throughout his military service and a career in electronics. Twenty years ago, he approached his instructor, Master Richard of Savannah ATA Black Belt Martial Arts Academy, about opening up his own school.

Today, Moore teaches all of the kids’, family and adult classes offered Monday through Saturday at his “life skills academy” in Bluffton. A family affair, all but one of his sons are black belts and his wife Rita recently earned this distinction. Heavily involved in the administrative side of the business, she is now training to become an instructor, as well.

As there is rarely a need for physical defense, Moore focuses on the mental battles his students face and making a positive difference in their lives by building their self-confidence. From the three- and four-year-old Tiny Tigers to black belts continuing their education, classes at Bluffton ATA Martial Arts are individualized for optimal progression in skill and technique.

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A different life skill—including courtesy, loyalty, attitude, perseverance, honor and integrity—is emphasized each cycle in accordance with the American Taekwondo Association’s (ATA) curriculum,

while the others are reinforced. In May, the focus was on respect, as well as discipline and self-awareness.

During the course of a recent Legacy Program for future instructors, Moore reviewed the four levels of discipline starting with obedience, followed by self-discipline, self-control and self-awareness. He drove the point home by noting everyone has two eyes and two ears but only one mouth, therefore it is more important to see and hear everything than to talk.

Making eye contact shows you are listening and you must look everyone in the eye, even if you are afraid.

“Every kid I teach here is part of my legacy, that’s the way I look at it,” he explains. “Earning our black belt is like an individual starting out as a tiny seed and then we grow into a mighty pine tree—a black belt. Then, as a black belt, we plant seeds for the future. Everyone out here is my seed that I’m planting for later in life.”

According to the American Taekwondo’s website, “our belts reflect a member’s proven level of competence and (just as importantly) the progression of colors reflects an inner journey that never truly ends. Each belt achieved is truly an accomplishment worthy of respect.”

Before advancing to their next belt, Moore’s students must not only show technical proficiency, but also maintain a B average in school and turn in a weekly sheet signed by their teachers and parents.

Those children selected for the Legacy Program are taught how to be instructors, as well as how to run a business.

“I let them see the books. I let them see how to order things,” says Moore. “Regardless of whether they end up in the martial arts or not, I try to prepare them for that next evolution in life.”

While the emphasis on discipline, the classes are also fun for all ages.

“The majority of adults in our classes started out watching their kids from the sidelines and then, somehow, I convinced them to step out for one class,” Moore says. “Many of my parents simply lack the confidence to step out there and do it. Then, when they get out there, they say this is better than becoming a gym rat! Instead of watching the clock, I can go out there and learn some things and the class goes by just like that.”

biggest challenge he faces as an instructor.

“There are some times when I see things that need to be done, but for whatever reason—a child will quit or they will move, and I was really attached to them. I’ve sent my own kids off, but now I send off thousands,” he says. “I just hope I’ve done enough.”

The school has produced several state and national champions and, before he has to send more kids out into the world, Master Moore and several of his best students will head to Little Rock, Arkansas, this June for the ATA World Expo. Continuing his legacy, Moore hopes to host an ATA-sanctioned tournament on Hilton Head Island in the near future which would attract thousands of martial arts enthusiasts and their families to the area.

“Sir/Ma’am, I shall live with perseverance in the spirit of Taekwondo; having honor with others, integrity within myself and self-control in my actions, sir/ ma’am.”

Moore has found his calling at Bluffton ATA Martial Arts and, without hesitation, cites “making a difference” as the best part of his job.

“Today, we were talking about discipline and becoming self-aware,” he explains. “A lot of people go through life asking, ‘Why am I here?’ I know why I’m here. I believe this is what I’m supposed to be doing. Growing up, the people in my life taught me what I didn’t want to be, so it steered me in this direction.”

On the flip side, “not being able to fix everything” is the Moore and his family

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JUNE TIDES

FRI 10

L

8:04

PM

MON 20

H

10:09

PM

SAT 11

H L H L

2:37 8:36 3:20 9:00

AM AM PM PM

TUES 21

L H L H

4:19 10:23 4:15 10:47

AM AM PM PM

WED 1

H L H

6:05 12:14 6:37

AM PM PM

THURS 2

L H L H

12:52 7:05 1:10 7:35

AM AM PM PM

SUN 12

H L H L

3:26 9:27 4:10 9:59

AM AM PM PM

WED 22

L H L H

5:01 11:04 4:58 11:27

AM AM PM PM

FRI 3

L H L H

1:51 8:04 2:04 8:31

AM AM PM PM

MON 13

H L H L

4:15 10:18 4:59 10:56

AM AM PM PM

THURS 23

L H L

5:42 11:47 5:42

AM AM PM

SAT 4

L H L H

2:47 9:00 2:58 9:25

AM AM PM PM

TUES 14

H L H L

5:04 11:07 5:48 11:49

AM AM PM PM

FRI 24

H L H L

12:10 6:26 12:35 6:29

AM AM PM PM

SUN 5

L H L H

3:41 9:54 3:51 10:17

AM AM PM PM

WED 15

H L H

5:53 11:54 6:36

AM AM PM

SAT 25

H L H L

12:59 7:11 1:28 7:19

AM AM PM PM

MON 6

L H L H

4:33 10:48 4:42 11:08

AM AM PM PM

THURS 16

L H L H

12:39 6:42 12:39 7:23

AM AM PM PM

SUN 26

H L H L

1:52 8:01 2:24 8:16

AM AM PM PM

TUES 7

L H L

5:23 11:42 5:33

AM AM PM

FRI 17

L H L H

1:25 7:31 1:23 8:08

AM AM PM PM

MON 27

H L H L

2:48 8:55 3:22 9:19

AM AM PM PM

WED 8

H L H L

12:00 6:11 12:37 6:22

AM AM PM PM

SAT 18

L H L H

2:10 8:18 2:06 8:51

AM AM PM PM

TUES 28

H L H L

3:46 9:53 4:20 10:27

AM AM PM PM

THURS 9

H L H L

12:53 6:59 1:33 7:12

AM AM PM PM

SUN 19

L H L H

2:54 9:01 2:50 9:31

AM AM PM PM

WED 29

H L H L

4:44 10:52 5:18 11:33

AM AM PM PM

FRI 10

H L H

1:45 7:47 2:28

AM AM PM

MON 20

L H L

3:37 9:43 3:33

AM AM PM

THURS 30

H L H

5:44 11:51 6:18

AM AM PM

Tide chart is calculated for the May River. Full Moon June 20.

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Thoughts in the Breeze I AM MY FATHER’S SON I Am My Father’s Son That is who I am, Though I am, still his child I am still a man.

Living my life from his Sharing his own belief, Like the seed from his tree To become like the leaf.

I am walking in the steps That my father placed, And as I grow and I mold I am my father’s face.

Walking with my child As the night does come, I look at him, he replies to me, ‘I Am My Father’s Son......’

Randy L. McClave

SUMMER Morning mist tangled in the oaks Pines whispering in gentle tones – Moments suspended in the haze of summer While the river sends its silver bands Against the land.

The past seems to weave the future As each day is scattered to the next.

You start to believe the days of summer Are eternal — That change is a word, not a condition of life.

Being on the far side of decades You realize that time can be a fickle adversary, That perhaps the fulfillment of life Is nothing more than a progression of choices Endlessly repeating themselves.

Art Cornell

THANK YOU The Sun reaches From behind the cloud Joyously Welcome back!

I missed your boldness In these too many grey Days And have longed For your warmth And sustenance Anne M. Jennings 38 bluffton.com

THE LAST CARS It’s my favorite kind of night, when I arrive tired and leave awake.

One beer lasts as time slips away.

Food arrives before it’s missed.

I don’t see others head out the door, and ours are the last cars in the lot.

Bill Newby

REWRITING THE WORLD While I’ve been waiting For your entrance, I’ve been busy, You might say The world was fine For me & dad, But before you come, I thought I had Better see to a few changes; You might call them “rearranges”— And so, I’m working hard and fast, To sew up a peace that lasts I told Mother Nature I thought it best She lay volcanoes Down to rest And while at it, Tell tornadoes To calm down and Grow tomatoes!

DEVOUR the mindful scaffolding on southern thrones indulges your serene tongue —

smoke-tongue, dangerous-tongue, inhaling those thrones and then shattered clock-towers,

yellow-curled prints, the swell of marble, the curve of a bowing arch, crumbling limbs, these a sweet paint palette humming in the roof of your mouth. oh, how you appreciate the art but ignore the artist.

Kelly Dillon

And the wild-hair hurricanes To make thunder and lightning friends Next, I told the distant lands That you can’t swim— So, please hold hands “Fire?” I begged, “don’t be too hot.”

“Snow—don’t be so cold.”

Days & years— Let there be lots, But time should Not grow old Planets and stars Should hold their place, The moon put on A happy face And just like any Good brother or sister, I’ve asked the birds And bees to whisper Endless tiny details, I think I’ve covered all, Now, even if the bough breaks— The cradle won’t fall!

FIRST GEAR no one can drive in neutral yet we watch half the creatures on the planet disappear in forty years we shrug in offshore drilling just in case there’s more oil somewhere we turn away and they plough and widen channels for bigger tankers raze and build fresher and taller, to create jobs or whatever and a three hundred year old tree waits for something to put the world back in gear Elizabeth Robin Photography by Eric Horan

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MUSIC This month we are gonna be talking about the Bluffton/Hilton Head Island music scene and what is missing from it.

What’s Missing in Bluffton’s Music Scene?

By Jevon Daly

I usually like to let things roll around in my head before I decide to write, but this assignment was particularly difficult. Oh, the wrestling I did when I thought of all the years I have been playing music here—the good times and opportunity to do something that I never thought possible in small town America. Such rich experiences! From the beginning playing with the local school music program to supporting my family performing with my musical buds, all the people I have met over the years (bar owners/restauranteurs/music lovers/theatre freaks/band directors) have made me who I am today.

I moved to the area in 1983 from Pennsylvania where I was born, although I actually only lived there for a total of five years. Before moving to Hilton Head Island, my family had also spent several years in the Virgin Islands and I guess this is where I got the music bug.

Fast-forward to the Lowcountry.

After playing saxophone in Pennsylvania, my younger brother Gavan (who is one year behind me in school—not dog—years) and I jumped headfirst into the local music scene, both joining the Hilton Head High Island School Marching Seahawks while still in middle school. So we marched, did the summer band camp thing and started a rock ‘n roll band, White Heat, in 1988, I think. We played at a place called Nick’s Golden Q on Hilton Head and I remember seeing a woman spit in her husband’s face during our first paying job.

Bluffton had live music way before I was around.

I heard Mike Schultz’ name a lot when we came to play at Stolis in 1997. We had just done our second Daly Planet CD with Jeff Franklin and were a little cocky at this point with long hair and a crew of dancing buddies who would come to all our gigs and spend zero dollars.

In ‘99, the year my mom passed away, I went on the road with Lowcountry Boil and learned some interesting lessons on how to spend money and network with strangers, something we had

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already started working on by meeting people on the beaches during the summer as younger, more muscular, dudes.

Having somewhat established myself on Hilton Head, things took a turn for the better when local hotshot Andy Pitts signed on with Lowcountry Boil in 2001. The band had played a lot previously, but now we started doing tons of shows together with my Dad and little brother Kieran as LCB. Bluffton was growing and our Pepper’s Porch gigs were really something. We released our second album around 2003 (I think).

“Born in the Lowcountry” was the name of a song Andy and I wrote together and locals really embraced us. That is what I’m getting at.

When asked what was missing from the Bluffton music scene, I had to scratch my head and, yes, some hair fell out. I’m 44 now. I have three kids, one in the same high school where I went.

The people of Bluffton (the Simoneauxes, the Huffmans, Roby, the McGuires, the Weavers, the Threadgills, the Normoyles, the O’Donnells, the Benges, the Meyerinks, the Vauxes, the Hardens, the Giltners, the Hahns, the Renaldis, the Murdogs and the Banks) and the venues (Wild Wing was really something in 2009, Corks, V55 and The Dispensary), this is what the town is NOT missing.

Is there are a hardcore music scene here?

Well...there is music almost every night at The Dispensary and at Woodys. Maybe we don’t have a snobby, hipstery music scene where everyone is playing original music and kids are sneaking in to see their band. But, what we do have is a real honest-to-goodness MUSIC TOWN. With the addition of Josh Cooke’s Roasting Room and kids like Ben Hughey out there gigging all the time, and the addition of Fat Patties, I find it hard to name anything we don’t have here in Bluffton.

So there.

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BLUFFTON’S RESTAURANT GUIDE Cahill’s Chicken Kitchen** Southern 1055 May River Rd. (843) 757-2921

The Village Pasta Shoppe** Italian, Deli, Wine, 10 B. Johnston Way (across from Post Office) (843) 540-2095

Choo Choo BBQ Express** Barbeque, Pulled Pork, Ribs 129 Burnt Church Rd. (843) 815-7675

Walnuts Café** Contemporary 70 Pennington Dr., Ste. 20 (843) 815-2877

Corner Perk** Breakfast, Lunch, Coffee Promenade St. & May River Rd. (843) 816-5674 May River Grill** Seafood Contemporary Old Town Bluffton 1263 May River Rd. (843) 757-5755 The Pearl** Fine Dining 5155 Calhoun St. (843) 757-5511 Pour Richard’s** Contemporary 4376 Bluffton Pkwy.

(843) 757-1999

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Agave Sidebar 13 State Of Mind St. (843) 757-9190 Bluffton BBQ Barbeque, Pork, Ribs 11 State Of Mind St. (843) 757-7427 The Bluffton Room Fine dining 15 Promenade St. (843) 757-3525 The Brick Chicken American 1011 Fording Island Rd. (843) 836-5040

Squat ‘N’ Gobble** American, Greek 1231 May River Rd. (843) 757-4242

British Open Pub Pub, Seafood, Steaks 1 Sherington Dr. #G, Sheridan Park (843) 705-4005

Toomers’ Bluffton Seafood House** Seafood 27 Dr. Mellichamp Dr. (843) 757-0380

Buffalo’s Contemporary 1 Village Park Sq. (843) 706-6630

Butcher’s Market and Dell Deli 102 Buckwalter Pkwy., Ste. 3G (843) 815-6328

American 1262 Fording Island Rd., Tanger Outlet 1 (843) 705-7001

Captain Woody’s Seafood, Sandwich, Salads 17 State Of Mind St., The Promenade (843) 757-6222

Mulberry Street Trattoria Italian 1476 Fording Island Rd. (843) 837-2426

Claude & Uli’s Bistro French 1533 Fording Island Rd. #302, Moss Creek Village (843) 837-3336

Napoli Bistro Pizzeria & Wine Bar Italian, Mediterranean 68 Bluffton Rd. (843) 706-9999

Corks Wine Co. Contemporary, Tapas 14 Promenade St. #306, The Promenade (843) 816-5168

Neo Gastropub - Farm To Table Fare 1533 Fording Island Rd. #326, Moss Creek Village (843) 837-5111

The Cottage Breakfast, Lunch & Dinner 38 Calhoun St. (843) 757-0508

Okatie Ale House American 25 William Pope Dr. (843) 706-2537

Downtown Deli Burgers, Sandwiches 27 Dr. Mellichamp Dr. (843) 815-5005

Old Town Dispensary Contemporary 15 Captains Cove, off Calhoun St. (843) 837-1893

Fat Patties Burgers, Sandwiches 207 Bluffton Rd. (843) 815-6300

The Oyster Bar Seafood 15 State Of Mind St., The Promenade (843) 837-1893

Hinchey’s Chicago Bar & Grill American 104 Buckwalter Pl., Ste. 1A (843) 836-5959

The Pearl Kitchen and Bar Contemporary 55 Calhoun St. (843) 757-5511

Hogshead Kitchen Contemporary 1555 Fording Island Rd., Moss Creek Village (843) 837-4647

Redfish Contemporary 32 Bruin Rd., Old Town Bluffton (843) 837-8888

Inn At Palmetto Bluff Continental 1 Village Park Sq., Palmetto Bluff Village (843) 706-6500 The Juice Hive Juice Bar 14 Johnston Way, Bluffton Village (843) 757-BUZZ (2889) Katie O’Donald’s Irish, American 1008 Fording Island Rd. #B, Kitties Crossing (843) 815-5555 Longhorn Steakhouse

Sigler’s Rotisserie & Seafood Contemporary 12 Sheridan Park Circle (843) 815-5030 Southern Barrel Brewing Co. American 375 Buckwalter Place Blvd.

(843) 837-2337 Stooges Cafe American 25 Sherington Dr. (843) 706-6178 ** See the ads in The Breeze and Bluffton.com for more info

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COMEDY

y dad carries himself like someone who should be on TV. Then I remember that time he almost competed on a season of MasterChef, so I guess technically he is someone who should be on TV. Growing up in the same house with him was hard when I am inherently someone who should be quietly muttering sad poems in a corner. Far, far away from other humans.

When Jim Wilkinson goes out for a night on the town, every place he goes is like the bar from Cheers—he walks through the door and everyone knows his name.

It’s an outright, well, cheer. He’s hugging people, taking pictures, kissing babies.

He’s constantly running for re-election for Mayor of Everyone’s Heart. He simply feels like he towers over everyone and everything around him; a big happy beacon.

Then I stand next to him and I’m reminded that, on a good day, I’m nearly half-afoot taller than him. Dads have this knack for making themselves into larger-thanlife figures.

Like every good sitcom duo, I am the tireless straight man to my father’s comedic foil. I walk into a crowded bar to meet my dad and find him performing for a smattering of bushy-tailed admirers. He sees me from across the room and launches into a joke I can recite by heart.

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Growing up, my dad said, “Sex is like a sport. And, if you’re good at it, you get a trophy.” His voice booms and people smile. “Look at how big my trophy is!” He points to me and everyone turns to see the sheepish giant who has lumbered unsuspectingly into the punchline. I do my bow and show everyone how big my hands are, then quietly sneak off to drink water at the bar while he wraps up his show.

instruction I was really given, we all sat silently for a few minutes before I went slinking away and not talking to another girl for five years.

I sometimes think he wishes I was more outgoing. It shows up in bits and flashes. When I’m at work waiting tables at a local pizza restaurant, I can snap into these modes where it’s all smiles and vaguely inappropriate dances for soccer moms. But when it’s just the two of us and we are far away from the glitz and glamour of social stardom, we are very subdued and quiet.

But we have our moments. There are the occasional drives where we are siting quietly and we look across the car and connect. Stripped free of the soapbox, he can be candid, if a little quiet. Occasionally, we’ll tiptoe around the big stuff.

Life lessons are never as eloquently stated as the closing scenes of a Modern Family episode, but we have moments where we get each other.

He used to try to get me engaged in social interactions.

When I was 13, I joined him at his favorite Outback Steakhouse. It was the first place I saw the sitcom character who raised me. As I sat quietly, gorging myself on seven blooming onions, he decided I would be an active participant in the show.

Dads have an extreme knack for creating their own mythology. My dad talks about the time he played against Emmett Smith in high school. When my Mom and I press him about why we hadn’t heard this story before, he says, “Why would I brag about getting my ass kicked?” But it folds into the legend; it’s another stepping stone in the story making him appear 20 feet tall, when he’s really a firm six feet on a good day.

My dad sat me down at a booth across from two of the hostesses. They were 17 or 18, so he told me to tell them I was 16. And that I drove the family Land Cruiser. For a hot five seconds, I legitimately thought this might be a solid social interaction.

My childhood is peppered with plenty of stories like this.

Moments where, despite my dad’s best efforts, I simply couldn’t wriggle free from my own clumsiness. Until we just kind of settled into our roles.

It’s just a Dad Thing. They are characters in an ongoing show for us to behold. One day, I might get to star in my own show and be a giant, too.

I wiped away the globs of zesty sauce smeared all over my face, made sure my bangs were sufficiently spikey and sat down politely across from these two lovely ladies. I was all smiles! A big, lopsided, I’m-still-losing-baby-teeth smile.

They said, “Hi.” I said, “Hi.” And then the most uncomfortable silence I had ever experienced in my life swept over the booth and I glimpsed the hell waiting in my teenage future. I fidgeted with the silverware as I stared hard at them with unblinking eyes.

How was this supposed to go? What did I possibly have to say to these two older strangers? Was my dad running some sort of weird child escort service?

“Uhhh, how old do you guys think I am?” I stammered.

“I don’t know,” one of the girls said. I like to think she was genuinely interested, but part of me thinks I’m remembering it that way to lessen the shame. “How old are you?”

“Uhhh…,” I looked nervously at my dad. “I’m 16 years old.” I said proudly.

They smiled and nodded along. I lied about having a car.

They lied about being impressed. Since that was all the

Chase S. Wilkinson is a humorist/superhero. His bumbling alter ego graduated with a degree in writing from SCAD in 2014. Now he spends his time rescuing humanity from its own selfconsciousness through laughter and dance!

With self-deprecating charm, he vows to remind everyone that it’s okay to laugh at yourself.

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Directory of Advertisers Accurate Lithograph Pg. 37 AllCare Tree Pg. 35 Annette Bryant, Coldwell Banker Pg. 3 Arts Center of Coastal Carolina Pg. 41 The Bark Shack Pg. 37 Bluffton ATA Martial Arts Pg. 34 Bluffton Bicycle Shop Pg. 35 Bluffton Pharmacy Pg. 35 Cahill’s Pg. 48 Charter One Realty Pgs. 47 Choo Choo BBQ Xpress Pg. 42 Coastal Exchange Furniture & Art

Pg. 31 Coastal Signature Homes Pg. 2 Cocoon Pg. 16 Corner Perk Pg. 25 Covert Aire Pg. 2 The Dollenberg Team, Weichert Realtors Pg. 11 Door 2 Door Dry Cleaning Service 46 bluffton.com

Pg. 31 Eggs n’ tricities Pg. 17 Eric Horan Pg. 15 ESP Merle Norman Salon Pg. 23 The Filling Station Art Gallery

Pg. 17 Four Corners Fine Art & Framing

Pg. 16 Gigi’s Boutique Pg. 17 Golis Family Jewelers Pg. 3 Hilton Head Boathouse Pg. 32 Hilton Head Exterminators Pg. 4 The Island Pet Cremation Services

Pg. 23 Jeanie Larson, The Alliance Group

Realty Pg. 4 La Petite Gallerie Pg. 17 The Louver Shop Pg. 31 May River Grill Pgs. 43 Morris Garage & Towing Pg. 23

Palmetto Dental Arts Pg. 30 Palmetto State Bank Pg. 23 The Pearl Pg. 15 Pour Richard’s Pg. 42 R. Stewart Design, LLC Pg. 30 Spartina Marine Education Center

Pg. 37 Spring Island Pg. 5 Squat ‘N’ Gobble Pg. 41 Stephen Meyer - Vaux Marscher

Berglind Pg. 15 Stephens Land Service Pg. 31 Stock Farm Antiques Pg. 17 Three D Golf Car Pg. 19 Toomers’ Bluffton Seafood House and

Oyster Company Pg. 41 Top Dollar Pawn & Sales Pg. 23 Vaux Marscher Berglind Pg. 46 The Village Pasta Shoppe Pg. 43 Walnuts Cafe Pg. 41

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