Sasee Magazine - November 2017

November 2017

Seeing a miracle will inspire you, but, knowing you are a miracle will change you.

-Deborah Brodie-

November 2017 Volume 16, Issue 11

8 10 12 16 18 22 25

A Rose by Any Other Name

by Rose Ann Sinay

Read It

It’s All About the Pickles

by Lynn Ingram Just Joyful

By Diane Stark Homecoming

by Lola Di Giulio De Maci The Miracle of Annie Banannie

by Leslie Moore Sasee Asks an Expert Getting Your Home Holiday Ready

by Jennifer Campanelli, Oreck

26 28 30 34 38 46 48 50 55 56

Kids Read It Sasee Asks an Expert Holiday Traditions and Older Family Members

by Susan McCurry, Hospice Care of SC Shop Early - Shop Local Giving Thanks for Being an American

by Raquel Stabinski-Leib The Great Snowman Building Competition

by Jeffery Cohen Table Talk

by Diane DeVaughn Stokes Thanksgiving Traditions

by Leslie Moore Turkey on the Loose

by Valerie Marier

November Calendar

Turkey, Tofu and Sushi

by Joan Leotta

Giving children a chance to be what they want to be when they grow up.

Whether treating a child’s earaches or sore throat, or being at your side through a serious illness or injury, the pediatric care team at MUSC Children’s Health is dedicated to giving your child every opportunity to be what they want to be.

We are working every day to bring the exceptional pediatric care of the state’s only nationally ranked children’s hospital closer to you. Changing What’s Possible.

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letter from the editor

Cover Artist Claire in Blue and Red, by Juliette Belmonte Born in Costa Rica, to a French mother and Argentinean father, Juliette was one of seven children in a large and adventurous family. She took to painting at a very young age, learning and working alongside her mother, a prolific and successful collage artist. Her parents fostered and encouraged Juliette’s creativity throughout her young life and signed her up for her first official painting class at the age of ten. She has been studying painting ever since.

A few weeks ago, I left the office, went home, changed and headed out for a walk. I walked on the beach, enjoying the mild day and gorgeous view. After I returned home, I relaxed on the porch, another of my favorite places, enjoying the sunset with Bubba Kitty purring on my lap. At first, my thoughts were on everything I had to do before the days’ end and even the next day, adding to the ongoing list I keep in my head. But, suddenly, as I watched the orange sun sink into the horizon, the colors changing and gradually fading, I stopped thinking about what was coming next and just enjoyed the moment. In those few minutes, I was overcome with a feeling of blissful contentment and felt so much gratitude for my life. The everyday miracles of a peaceful walk and a spectacular sunset enjoyed with my four legged friend were enough – more than enough, they were gifts. Since that day I’ve made a conscious effort to notice and appreciate the small miracles that surround me – and I’m finding the more I notice, the most there are to notice!

Happy Thanksgiving dear readers – I wish you a holiday filled with miracles large and small. And, as my friend and fellow writer Marsha Tennant always says – “You are enough.”

Juliette has studied at the Art Students League of New York, the Art Institute of Chicago, and the Art Institute of Fort Lauderdale. She has shown her work extensively throughout North and South America and has collectors and admirers worldwide. Currently, Juliette is living and working in California.

To see more of her work, visit www.juliettebelmonte.com, www.instagram.com/juliettebelmonte or www.facebook.com/juliettebelmonteart.

who’s who Publisher Delores Blount

Art Director Patrick Sullivan

Sales & Marketing Director Susan Bryant

Photographer & Graphic Artist Aubrey Glendinning

Editor Leslie Moore

Web Developer Scott Konradt

Senior Account Executive Celia Wester

Accounting Sophia McCallister

Account Executives Amanda Kennedy-Colie Stacy Danosky Erica Schneider Gay Stackhouse

Seeing a miracle will inspire you, but, knowing you are a miracle will change you.

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-Deborah Brodie-

Executive Publishers Jim Creel Bill Hennecy Suzette Rogers

PO Box 1389, Murrells Inlet, SC 29576 fax 843-626-6452 • phone 843-626-8911 • www.sasee.com • info@sasee.com Sasee is published monthly and distributed free along the Grand Strand. Letters to the editor are welcome, but could be edited for length. Submissions of articles and art are welcome. Visit our website for details on submission.

Sasee is a Strand Media Group, Inc. publication.

Copyright © 2017. 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.

The Perfect Retirement. A world to explore, a vibrant community to come home to. A lifestyle that embraces true independence, new friendships, culinary celebrations and the safety of community.

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A Rose by Any Other Name

by Rose Ann Sinay

My husband and I drove around killing time, waiting to swoop into our granddaughter’s new day care to pick her up. Our daughter and her family had just moved into their new home in Connecticut and wanted to transition Mila-Rose into the unfamiliar place, full of unfamiliar faces, for just an hour or two a day. My husband and I would get to spoil her for the rest of the day.

to follow in their footsteps. Unfortunately, the urge was in the blood.

We had already eaten lunch at the highly recommended seafood restaurant (fantastic fried oysters) and had checked out most of the local mom and pop shops. We thought we had run out of places to go when we saw the sign above an antique shop door.

It had an old fashioned name, seldom heard today, it happened to be my eldest granddaughter’s middle name. Tillie’s Antiques, it read. We had to go in.

“Oh, no. I named the store after my mother,” the shop owner said.

The door chimes tinkled as we entered. Cloisonné vases, vintage chandeliers and candlestick holders, aged tables and chairs surrounded us. The store was charming and homey – fancy without being untouchable. I spied random pieces that I had grown up with – manufactured relatives of these Tiffany, Stickley, Spode and no-name prized relics. A lovely woman stood behind the jewelry display counter and greeted us as we entered.

“Welcome,” she said with a smile. “Look around, and if you have any questions, I will be happy to help you.”

I walked through several small “period” sections and talked myself out of purchasing all the treasures that called to me. My parents had collected lots of “things” randomly. I tried hard not

While I fought my impulses, I heard my husband comment about the name on the sign.

“It’s an unusual, old fashioned name. Are you Tillie?’ he asked.

I thought of my own mother when I spotted a small, colorful ceramic turkey. A clone of the figurine had sat on her Thanksgiving table every year for as long as I could remember. An image of her relaxing at the cleared table, drinking her coffee out of her special china cup after the mountain of dishes and cookware had been hand washed and put away, filled my mind. I could almost feel her contentment. She died this past May, and even now, my eyes fill with tears whenever I think about her.

“My granddaughter’s name is Tillie,” I heard him say. “Well, her middle name. Her first name is Adelaide.

“Adelaide is my mother’s sister’s name,” she said with a laugh. “I haven’t come across anyone else with those names,” the woman continued. “Old names seem to be making a big comeback.”

I moved from room to room, stopping to chat with her as I passed the estate jewelry case in the middle of the store. Somehow the shared names had created an invisible connection. We would be friends if I lived here, I thought. I had to buy something – something special.

The china section was a treasure trove of delicately patterned dishes in lighted glass cabinets. I recognized several designs that had filled my parents’ hutch in bits and pieces, but never the whole set. That is until they’d gone to a flea market and scored a major find – the Royal Albert, Old Country Roses, bone china that was used once, maybe, twice a year.

Mom loved roses. She stenciled large red ones on walls, painted them on furniture and stuck them in vases. I was lucky she named me Rose instead of slapping a red tattoo on my forehead.

Those rose-bordered dishes were special to her. They were the aristocracy to her, otherwise, incomplete collections.

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I perused the many delicate plates and bowls, looking for her pattern. I didn’t have to look for long. An entire glass shelf was filled with platters, tea pots, sugar and creamers and coffee mugs.

Each piece adorned with roses and edged in gold. I wanted to buy them all. A bittersweet pang ran through me. They were special, but I didn’t need just bits and pieces. I needed something complete in itself. I turned away.

The owner of the shop walked by. “The china is twenty percent off.”

I couldn’t pass up a bargain.

“Could you unlock the case?” I asked. I picked up the coffee mug.

There were only two. They had not been part of her set. I pictured her with both hands wrapped around her bone china cup, savoring the moment. My fingers glided over the cool, smooth porcelain; my hands girdled its middle. She would have liked the mug better, I thought. I bought both. I authorized the credit card receipt with my signature.

“Your name is Rose Ann?” the woman asked putting a copy in the bag. (Again, her laugh.) “This is so strange. So is mine.”

As we left the shop, I looked back at the plaque above the door. The shared name had brought us in, touched my family and brought it full circle. I hugged my purchase to my chest. It was a sign.

Rose Ann Sinay

is a freelance writer typing away in sunny North Carolina. Her articles/stories have been published in The Carolinas Today, The Oddville Press and The Brunswick Beacon.

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To My Blue Heron CusToMers,

Thank you for helping the Blue Heron fly these past 20 years. We appreciate your business & friendship. Please come and join us in celebrating our annual Holiday Season Open House and the Blue Heron’s 20th Birthday.

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–Read It!– Nicole Says…Read

Incense & Peppermints

by Carole Bellacera Review by Nicole McManus

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Holiday Shopping Weekend Nov. 10 & 11 Friends & Family Shopping Sunday, Nov. 19

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1-888-718-4253 | www.BROOKGREEN.org Facebook has a way of connecting people with their friends from the past; however, Cindy Sweet never expected to hear from Ryan Quinlan.

Ryan was a Warrant Officer in the Vietnam War, and the man she loved with all of her heart. When his chopper was taken down and there were no survivors, Cindy found the strength to continue serving as a combat nurse. When she returned home, she moved on with her life, and now forty years later, everything has been turned upside down.

How can Ryan be alive?

Carole Bellacera blends medical drama, young innocence, and places them in the midst of war. It is obvious the author uses her own service background, as this book is written with honesty. Even the tiniest of things that Cindy went through, from the moment she stepped off the plane, will feel very real to the readers, thanks to the incredible details.

The author not only captures the spirit of the times, but also the emotional turmoil of everyone involved. The never-ending fear, the panic and worry, as well as the grief, are powerful things to deal with, while

trying to find a way to overcome and move forward each day. Carole Bellacera has written a book that will live in people’s hearts forever.

As you may know, I love historical fiction novels. You can learn about the past, while enjoying a great story. I have escaped into numerous time periods and places, however this was the first novel that I have read set during the Vietnam War. Growing up, Mom and I used to watch China Beach, so it was only natural for me to be intrigued by this book’s synopsis. I enjoyed how the author transitioned modern day into the past, through the main character’s memories. Carole Bellacera is a South Carolina author who is now on my radar, and I will be reading her other books in the future!

Nicole McManus

loves to read, to the point that she is sure she was born with a book in her hands.

She writes book reviews in the hopes of helping others find the magic found through reading. Contact her at ARIESGRLREVIEW.COM.

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It’s all about the Pickles

by Lynn Ingram

It is an ordinary Tuesday in September, a pretty day, just before the calendar flips over to fall. I am at the grocery store, Food Lion, to be specific, having come for an ordinary mid-week shopping trip, just to pick up a few things.

Well, that’s not exactly correct, the “ordinary” part. This shopping trip, like others lately, is not quite the same as all my other grocery shopping trips over the past couple of decades. On those shopping trips, I was shopping for me, selecting just the things that I wanted – or that I thought I should want, when I was trying to be especially healthy. And generally speaking, most of my grocery selections were healthy ones – except when I willfully decided I wanted to eat some “bad” stuff – tortilla chips, or fullfat chocolate ice cream, or frozen pizza. Or peanut butter. I have a peanut butter addiction. No jar of peanut butter is safe for more than a day or two in my house.

Now, I am learning to shop differently, because I am not just shopping for me any more. There is a man in my life – a wonderful and beautiful and precious man – and these days, I am cooking for us (what a pretty word: us!), not just for me. And, my wonderful man has some health concerns, so I am learning to shop differently. I am reading the sodium levels and putting stuff back when that’s really high. I am buying no more dairy products and no bread. I am buying lots of vegetables, and we are eating lots of salads. I am trying to figure out creative and new protein sources. We have hit upon a few things that we really like, but I am always looking for variety.

I see some really pretty radishes in the produce section. I never buy radishes, as I’m not particularly fond of them. I do remember, though, that when I have eaten them, I’ve been surprised at how okay they really are – crunchy, kinda peppery – so I’m thinking maybe we could have some on a salad.

But I don’t know if he likes radishes either, so I text him: “Do you like radishes?”

He replies: “Not so much.”

So I pass on the radishes, leave them there looking pretty on their shelf. But this has made me smile: There I am, texting my sweetheart from the grocery store about what we might eat, trying to be healthy, making choices together.

Now I’ve arrived at the pickle aisle. Pickles are on sale. I never buy pickles. My sweetie keeps his refrigerator full of pickles. He loves them. So I think, okay, I should buy some pickles.

So I text him: “What kind of pickles do you like? Kosher dills?

How about jalapeno dills?”

And he responds: “Kosher dills. Never had jalapeno ones, but willing to try.”

And then I spy the savory garlic dills. We both love garlic, so I text: “How about savory garlic dills?”

He texts back: “Pretty much savory garlic anything!”

I texted back: “Yeah, I knew those were a winner!” and I add a smiley face.

And now, here in the Food Lion, right here in the pickle aisle with the savory garlic dills and kosher spears and jalapeno dills, I have tears trickling down my cheeks. Why am I crying in the pickle aisle? And smiling while my cheeks get all wet.

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These are happy tears, heart overflowing tears. I am crying because of this pickle texting conversation we just had is so ordinary – and it is so wonderful in its ordinariness. Before today, I have never texted a man from a grocery store to inquire about what he would like to eat. I have tears in my eyes, right here in the grocery store, because I am doing something happily married

women do all the time. By texting, or maybe with a phone call, those women communicate with their husbands about ordinary subjects like “What’s for supper?”

That everyday, ordinary communication about such quotidian things as what might be on the table tonight is as plain a thing as a slice of white bread – and it is also as huge a thing as a rainbow.

It’s life, a slice of life. It’s sharing life with another person whom I love and who loves me back.

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And it is so beautiful.

And it is happening to me, and I can’t believe it. I had hoped for, dreamed about, wished for, prayed for this for so many years. So many times, it seemed easier to just give up hope and resign myself to a life lived alone.

But this wonderful man appeared in my life, and we fell in love, and it appears he is here to stay.

And I am so grateful and so blown away – and so in awe at all the ways that his presence makes life so much more beautiful.

It’s not about the big things.

It’s about the pickles.

Jon & Lorraine Utley Lynn Ingram

Lynn Ingram's writing has appeared in The Charlotte Observer, Progressive Farmer, Lake Wylie Magazine, and a number of other publications, including Cape Fear Living Magazine, for which she writes a monthly column. She teaches psychology at UNCW and sees clients in her private psychology practice in Wilmington. She has recently resumed acting at TheatreNOW, and she's on the verge of becoming an avid contra dancer.

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Just Joyful

by Diane Stark

“Diane, sit down,” my first grade teacher reminded me for the hundredth time. “You’ll need to be quiet too.”

I wanted to be good. I really did. I loved my teacher, and I longed to please her. But sitting still for too long made me feel anxious inside. Like I might burst or something. And being quiet was even more difficult.

I’ll never forget the first time I got in trouble for not sitting down. I was in kindergarten, and I was riding the school bus home. When it was my stop, the bus driver grabbed my arm before I could get off the bus. “I need you to write sentences for me,” she said in the sweetest voice. “I need you to write ‘I will not stand up on the bus’ ten times.”

“Okay,” I answered cheerfully. I didn’t realize I was being punished until my older brother told me.

After that, I tried to stay seated on the school bus.

But I was little, and the bus seats were over my head.

I couldn’t hear what the other kids were saying, and I felt left out.

I had to write sentences many times throughout my elementary school career.

When I write, I feel like my brain works the way it’s supposed to.

But even today, when I talk, I know the old struggles are still there. When I get together with a friend for coffee, I almost always leave the coffee house feeling like I monopolized the conversation. Like I needed to heed my Sunday school teacher’s warning, but I didn’t. I use my mouth more than my ears, even when I don’t mean to.

“You’re not hyper.

You’re joyful.”

Even my Sunday school teacher reminded me almost weekly that God gave me two ears and only one mouth. “He did that for a reason, Honey,” she said kindly.

I really tried to be good, and I didn’t understand why I couldn’t seem to control myself. If I were in elementary school today, I’d be one of the millions of kids with a prescription for Ritalin, but I’m a child of the ‘80s, and back then fewer kids were diagnosed with ADHD. I got good grades most of the time, so my parents never really thought I had a problem. But I always knew there was something wrong with me, that concentrating was easier for other kids than it was for me.

I grew up, went to college and became – of all things – a kindergarten teacher. I loved it, and it was the perfect environment for someone like me. My short attention span and inability to sit still didn’t hinder me with my students. They loved me. They thought I was fun.

After ten years, I resigned from teaching to become a stay-at-home mom and pursue a second career – writing. I know it sounds like a strange

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choice for someone like me, but I’d always felt drawn to tell my stories.

Plus, I discovered something else, something magical for someone with my struggles. When I write, I can focus. My mind stops thinking a million thoughts a minute and just concentrates on the story.

I always talk very quickly, and I use my hands a lot.

I know I come across as hyper, but I can’t seem to control it.

And it gets even worse when I’m nervous.

This past July, I was invited to speak at a writer’s conference. I taught classes on writing for parenting magazine and anthologies, things I do all the time. I knew I could teach other writers how to break in. But knowing I could do it didn’t stop me from feeling nervous before I taught my class.

I stood in front of 25 other writers to teach them what I know about writing a story for a Chicken Soup book. I told them to start with the action and not to try to tell their whole life story in 1200 words. While I spoke, people nodded and smiled, as though they were actually learning something.

It was a great feeling.

Afterward, the sweetest lady came up and hugged me. “You are wonderful,” she said. “I love your teaching style.”

My mouth dropped open. “My teaching style? You mean the way I talk too fast and can’t sit still?” I shrugged. “I know I’m hyper.”

But she shook her head. “You’re not hyper. You’re joyful. What you see as hyperactivity, other people see as enthusiasm.”

I know sounds silly, but I fought tears at her words. It was honestly one of the best compliments I’ve ever been given.

“Thank you for saying that,” I said. “It means more to me than I can say.”

I didn’t tell her about my childhood, about my life-long struggle with talking too much and too fast, about being self-conscious about my mannerisms and inability to sit still.

I didn’t tell her all of that, but I will never forget her words.

You’re not hyper, you’re joyful.

Those five words set me free from the labels I put on myself when I was in kindergarten and my bus driver made me write sentences. I labeled myself too loud. Too chatty. Too fidgety. Too flighty.

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My personality was just too much.

But my sweet new friend didn’t see any of that. She saw joy and enthusiasm. She saw a love for writing and a desire to help others succeed with their own writing aspirations.

Her view of me has helped me to change how I view myself. When my internal dialogue becomes too critical, I remember her words. I remind myself that other people don’t view me the same way I see myself, and that maybe, my hyperactivity could be seen as a strength if I just change my perception of it. Because of a friend’s kind words, I’ve been able to view myself in a more positive light.

I’m not hyper anymore. Now, I’m just joyful.

I love how one person’s words can become a silver lining in our own dark clouds.

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is a wife and mom of five. She loves to write about her family and her faith. Her essays have been published in over 20 Chicken Soup for the Soul books.

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Homecoming

by Lola Di Giulio De Maci When my brother was 21 years old, he walked out the door in his white Navy uniform on his way to the plane that would take him to a faraway land. Mom, Dad, my two sisters and I stood on the front porch steps, watching him disappear down the street and around the corner. Life changed drastically for us in that moment. I immediately began counting the days until David would come home.

Mom missed her son terribly. She cried a lot and couldn’t sleep. No one could console her.

Dad shed his tears silently. But the pain in his heart was palpable. It was hard seeing his only son go off to war.

One of the ways Mom coped with David’s absence was to make his favorite cookie – pizzelles – and ship them thousands of miles across the ocean to DaNang, Vietnam, where he was stationed. Helping her out, I would sit for hours making these anise-flavored, snowflake-like cookies one at a time on an old-fashioned press that resembled a waffle-iron. I didn’t mind. I missed my brother terribly also.

When the cookies were ready for packing, Mom would stack the pizzelles in a large tin, placing popcorn in and around the delicate, crispy cookies so they wouldn’t break. Then she was off to the post office, visualizing that big, silver bird in the sky carrying our love to David in another part of the world.

Thank you very much for the cookies, he wrote in one of his letters home.

They were delicious. I shared them with the guys.

That letter and all the others he mailed home meant the world to me.

They still do. It was always a great day when I would go to the mailbox and see a white envelope with a red, white and blue stripe

running across the bottom of it, the word FREE inscribed where the stamp should be affixed.

16 February 1970. When you read this, I’ll have about 226 days left…I have been getting all your cards. I get a kick out of them…So you’re going to have a baby! Congratulations!...This week I’m putting in for an in country R&R which is 3 days. I’m going to do nothing but sleep!...I close for now. Love, Dave I have taken all of David’s letters and tied a black string of yarn around them, placing them in an indigo-colored box for safekeeping. These irreplaceable drafts of history have softly yellowed with age, and yet I can still cradle these keepsakes in my hands, touching indelible memories that echoed milestones in our lives.

My brother is now 69 years old and lives just a couple of blocks from me. I call him often.

“Can you come over for a cup of coffee?” I ask, already setting the table for two. I watch for him as I stand on the sidewalk in front of my house, waiting for him to fly around the corner on his bike. I love spending time with him. We talk about a lot of things as we empty the coffee pot and leave a few pizzelle crumbs on the once-ladened plate.

But David rarely talks about his tour of duty in Vietnam. Yet, when asked about the time he spent overseas, he quickly replies: “I’d do it all over again. In a heartbeat.” I hug him tightly, so grateful all these years later that he came home.

Before he leaves, I go to the closet where I keep a gold tin can brimming with more pizzelles and make a to-go bag for him.

“Take care of yourself,” I call after him, as I watch him and his bike and the pizzelles disappear up the street and around the corner, taking him back to his life today as a veteran of the country he fought so dearly for.

And my heart swells with pride.

Lola Di Giulio De Maci

is a former teacher whose stories have appeared in numerous editions of Chicken Soup for the Soul, the Los Angeles Times, Sasee, Reminisce, and other anthologies, newspapers, and magazines. She has a Master of Arts in education and English and continues writing from her loft overlooking the San Bernardino Mountains.

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Photo courtesy of Alli D. Photography

The Miracle of Annie Banannie

by Leslie Moore

Annie Nichols is a happy, bright four year old living in Murrells Inlet with her parents, Kelsey and Billy Nichols, and her almost two year old brother, also named Billy. Casual acquaintances would never notice the slight limp, or brace on her right leg, and would likely be shocked to know that four months ago, Annie very nearly lost her life.

We sat in Billy’s office while he shared Annie’s story. This young father adamantly believes that God sent several miracles to save his precious child, and repeatedly emphasized the power of prayers from people all around the world.

“The doctors said she could have fallen a hundred times with no ill effect, but this time was just the perfect storm,” Billy began, trying to control his tears. “It was Saturday, July 1st. I had just gotten home from the office and the kids were outside playing, a couple of our neighbors were there with their children – a typical summer Saturday afternoon. The little boys were playing with the hose and a tiny puddle of water got into the garage on the polished concrete.

Annie started to run inside, slipped in the water and fell.”

Billy and Kelsey took Annie inside and put some ice on her head. A friend and neighbor, who is an RN, told the couple to keep a close eye on her and not let her go to sleep. “She cried, but it wasn’t the

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worst cry I’ve even heard,” Billy remembered, shaking his head.

“Watching her closely, we kept icing her head – and in about 45 minutes she was ready to get up, saying she felt better.”

Billy was preparing to grill the family dinner and took Annie outside with him while Kelsey put little Billy down for the night.

Suddenly, with little warning, Annie took a dramatic turn for the worse, screaming, crying and rapidly becoming unresponsive.

Kelsey and Billy rushed her to the emergency department at Tidelands Waccamaw Community Hospital in Murrells Inlet. “I dropped Kelsey and Annie off by the ER door, and by the time I parked my car and walked into the hospital, they already had taken her back,” Billy said. “Everyone at Tidelands was amazing – within a very short time, we were told Annie had a brain bleed and needed to be airlifted to MUSC.” In the short space of only 90 minutes, the lives of the Nichols family changed forever.

Kelsey had already texted extended family and, in shock, Billy

Billy’s father drove him to Charleston to meet Kelsey and Annie.

“I remember talking with my dad and saying I hoped this wouldn’t change Annie’s personality – she’s such a spunky, full of life little girl.”

While on the road, Billy received a call from Kelsey. “Because of the telemedicine connection, the surgeons met Annie at the helicopter and took her directly into surgery, saving valuable time.” But they had delivered devastating news to Kelsey – telling her that there was no guarantee her daughter would survive the surgery. “Then I realized the only thing that mattered was keeping Annie alive.”

There were many small miracles that night, all sent to save one little girl. The helicopter was originally scheduled to transport another patient, but was cancelled at the last minute. During the flight, the pilot pointed out a huge storm to Kelsey and told her it was completely stalled and should have been directly in their path.

These are only two of a series of signs that kept hope alive at a time when all seemed lost.

The surgery went well, the clot was removed in less than four minutes, but Annie was still not out of the woods. She was alive, but with no guarantee of her mental state. “We didn’t sleep that night,” said Billy. “The next morning, Annie had a CAT scan, and the doctors saw brain activity. We also learned that Annie had suffered a small stroke, but were told it was the ‘best’ place to have one.”

Continued on page 24

called his pastor, Mike Alexander, at Belin United Methodist Church, asking him to pray. “He told me he was coming – and got there in just a few minutes.” Mike, Billy and Kelsey prayed and waited. “They wouldn’t allow us to stay with her while she was intubated – that was really hard. Then, we asked if Kelsey could ride with Annie on the helicopter, and they again said no.”

Kelsey and Billy did get to see Annie before she boarded the helicopter. And, Billy was able to convince the pilot to allow Kelsey to accompany her daughter with the understanding that she had to control her emotions. “It was really tough seeing Annie with wires and tubes everywhere, but Kelsey managed to pull herself together and got on board with Annie.”

“While we were waiting, we were introduced to the doctors at MUSC through a new technology called telemedicine,” Billy began. “Because Tidelands is connected with MUSC through telemedicine, the doctors at MUSC had already seen her tests and even looked into her pupils before the helicopter arrived.”

Billy went on to tell me, “Only four community hospitals in South Carolina have telemedicine tied with MUSC. We want to spread the word. If there was telemedicine in every hospital, we could save so many more lives.”

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prayer, Kelsey and Billy have set up the Annie Banannie Foundation to fund research on pediatric traumatic brain injury. Kelsey told me the fund will be managed by MUSC and two doctors will be in charge of the research. “I want to raise a million dollars in five years,” Kelsey told me with conviction.

This brave young couple will never be the same people that they were before the accident. They are grateful for every day, every minute, with those they love. “We are so grateful to the wonderful doctors and nurses, to Tidelands, to MUSC, to everyone who helped save our precious Annie.”

The second night, Billy and Kelsey felt a little more optimistic. At the insistence of Annie’s nurses, they tried to get some sleep. “At three in the morning we woke up to the nurses cheering! Annie had given them a thumbs up with her left hand.” This emotional moment was the beginning of Annie’s recovery.

Slowly, Annie began to improve. On July 4th, she spoke for the first time, telling her parents she had to go to the bathroom. “I’m not a big social media fan,” Billy told me. “But I saw an entirely different side of it through this ordeal. We heard from people we hadn’t seen in years, and there were prayers being sent from all over the world.”

After ten days, Annie was discharged from MUSC to Levine Children’s Hospital in Charlotte for therapy. She had little use of her right side and received therapy six days a week for four hours a day. “The first week was hard, but then things started opening up,” remembered Billy, a look of intense gratitude on his face. Kelsey was able to stay with Annie for the 24 days of intense therapy, while Billy traveled back and forth, working some and spending time with his son who was being cared for by his grandmother.

Annie left Levine walking with assistance from her mom and dad.

Today, four months later, she wears a brace on her leg and is in outpatient therapy. “Her prognosis is great. She’s come back at least 90%; that last 10% takes longer, but there’s no reason she won’t get to 100%.”

The Nichols knew they had to figure out a way to give back for the miracle of their daughter’s recovery. After a lot of research and

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The first fundraiser for the Annie Banannie Foundation will be held on November 18th at Sunnyside Plantation in Murrells Inlet. Tru Sol has donated their time and talent and there will be a silent auction, along with yummy food and drinks. For more info, or to buy tickets, visit Team AnnieBanannie on Facebook or email teamannieBanannie@gmail.com.

Getting Your Home Holiday Ready

by Jennifer Campanelli

We all want our homes to be spotless when guests arrive for the holidays – and with the right techniques and equipment, this can be a breeze!

There is definitely an art to cleaning. No matter where you are cleaning, remember to start at the top and work down, and thoroughly clean one room at a time. This is how professional cleaners work, and it saves so much time and effort.

Your cleaning is only going to be as good as the products you use. Many studies show that harsh cleaning chemicals are toxic to children and pets, but today there are many chemical free cleaning systems available that do an even better job at cleaning. Our e-cloths use only water and are available for every surface, from windows to furniture to kitchen and bathroom surfaces. At a million microfibers per inch, they are able to remove 99% of the bacteria.

After you gather your supplies, start by cleaning ceiling fans or light fixtures. Move down the walls, then dust and polish furniture – use your vacuum cleaner’s attachments to make this easier. Our product is a two part system, a powerful, lightweight upright and a compact canister. This is a great way for two people to clean – one does the top half of the room with the canister, and the other moves in with the upright.

Bathrooms are made much easier by using the microfiber cloths. Do your walls first, vacuuming for cobwebs, then clean the tub, sink, mirror and toilet. After everything is sparkling, mop your way out of the room.

Our deep cleaning, microfiber mops make this a breeze. It’s the same in your kitchen – vacuum from top to bottom, and then do cabinet faces, counter tops and stainless steel. Work your way down to the floor and mop your way out.

For the holidays, it’s good to do a professional-type cleaning on your floors. We have deep steam cleaners that don’t use chemicals and equipment that can dry clean your carpets – all are safe for children and pets. Our Orbiter has all the different pads and brushes you will need for any surface. Doing this yourself will save a lot of time and money!

After everything is sparkling clean, it’s nice to add a signature scent. One of our newest products is the Lampe Berger – it purifies your air and adds a fragrance to your room. It was developed in France in 1898 to purify the air in hospitals.

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Lastly, get your equipment out now and make sure everything is in working order. We service all brands of vacuums!

Jennifer Campanelli is the manager of Oreck Vacuums of Surfside Beach, and passionate about cleaning! Her store is part of Oreck of the Carolinas, a group of 11 stores spread through both Carolinas.

Oreck professional vacuums and state of the art cleaning products are the ones most preferred by professional cleaning services and hotels. To learn more, visit www.OreckCarolinas.com or find them on Facebook. Stop by the store, 8703 Highway 17 Bypass South or call 843-215-8244.

8703 Hwy 17 Bypass South, Surfside Beach • 843-215-8244 OreckCarolinas.com • Mon-Sat 10-6 • Closed Sun

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–Kid’s Read It!–

Nicole Says…Read these books to your kids!

Reviews by Nicole McManus

Thanksgiving on Thursday

Thanksgiving is for Giving Thanks

It is Thanksgiving Day, Annie and Jack’s family are head to their grandparent’s house. However, Annie gets a feeling they are supposed to go to the tree house. Their tree house has magical powers, it can send them anywhere in the world. Jack and Annie find a book about Pilgrims and they travel to the very first feast! Will they be able to learn how to help and make it back home, or will they ruin the first Thanksgiving and be stuck in the past forever?

Margaret Sutherland gives children examples of who and what to be thankful for in this picture book. She stresses the importance of being grateful for the small things that make children happy. This book will encourage young readers to think of things they are appreciative of, while giving the entire family a chance to list their gratitude. This is a cute book to help teach the real meaning of Thanksgiving.

by Mary Pope Osborne (Magic Tree House series #27)

Mary Pope Osborne has created a delightful series for children. These chapter books are filled with magic and wonder to keep kids entertained while they learn various facts about the world. In this book, children learn what it was like to grow up in Plymouth Colony, surviving famine, disease, celebrating a successful harvest and learning how to work with Native Americans. In the back there is even more information on the history of Thanksgiving, including when it became a national holiday!

The author created a nonfiction companion book, Pilgrims, which dives further into the historical facts.

Llama Llama Gives Thanks

by Anna Dewdney

Anna Dewdney provides a fun board book series through the Llama Llama stories. This book gives young ones an insight into the activities surrounding Thanksgiving Day. The bright colorful pictures are filled with fall festivities from falling leaves to great food to eat. The sing-song rhythm will entertain toddlers, while children who are beginning to read will learn they can give thanks everyday!

by Margaret Sutherland Illustrated by Sonja Lamut

Duck for Turkey Day

by Jacqueline Jules Pictures by Kathryn Mitter Tuyet’s class created several turkey-themed projects before their Thanksgiving break. Tuyet is excited to be eating turkey, but when she finds out her Vietnamese American family insists on having duck, she is terrified that her family doesn’t understand the importance of eating turkey. An embarrassed Tuyet returns to school and learns the real meaning of Thanksgiving.

Jacqueline Jules provides a story of acceptance and diversity. Thanksgiving is a holiday of traditions and family, not about the food on the table.

Kathryn Mitter’s pictures depict Tuyet’s emotions clearly and readers of all ages will understand. This book is perfect for young elementary age children.

843-546-6858 800 Front Street Georgetown, SC 29440 Mon-Fri 10:00-5:30 Sat 10:00-5:00 www.doodlebugschild.com

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All You Care To Eat

Thanksgiving Day Feast

Holiday Traditions and Older Family Members

by Susan McCurry

Traditions, aren’t they made to be broken? Should I choose to soothe the holiday blues with the salve of new traditions? Mom is older and tired. Should I think outside the box of dust covered memories and faded photos?

freshly prepared food bar

While older, wiser loved ones will tend to take a foot hold in the depths of years past and what they view as happier times, they do want to be a part of what is taking place now. Reminders of the past are often used to stimulate those with dementia and other short term memory issues and will revive them temporarily. However, placing them stage center in the here and now often lifts spirits and gives the entire family a gift that will never be reclaimed.

With the digital era upon us, younger generations have embraced the technology that evolves almost daily. Take full advantage of this opportunity during family holiday events. Encourage selfies and snap chat sessions with grandparents and their younger counterparts. Watch them smile and giggle when they have a crown of flowers or an elf hat magically placed on their head in a live video. Be prepared to take tons of new photos and videos when you place the virtual reality headset on Grandpa. Decide ahead of time if you want him to run from zombies or ride a roller coaster! Re-Introduce them to relatives across the nation through Face Time or Skype.

Holidays are for enjoying one another, and what better way to bring together the young and old.

Plus, enjoy a FREE slice of Pumpkin Pie with the Thanksgiving Day Feast!

Dine with us this Thanksgiving Day and enjoy slow-roasted turkey, tender sliced ham, hand-breaded fried chicken, creamy macaroni & cheese, sweet potato casserole, perfectly seasoned collard greens, our famous Fresh Salad, Soup & Fruit Bar, and much more!

MYRTLE BEACH LOCATIONS 1805 N. Kings Hwy (843) 448-2315

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1206 S. Kings Hwy (843) 448-1702

Hours vary by season. Please call to confirm. Available at participating restaurants on Thanksgiving Day only. Dine-in only. Food Bar items, times and prices may vary.

Beverages, taxes and gratuity not included. © 2017 Shoney’s North America, LLC

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While these types of new traditions are fun to unfold and provide us with snippets of laughter never heard, they will never surpass those that are steeped and rooted within us all…baking grandmother’s red-velvet cake and having her cut the first piece with her mother’s serving knife, watching wrinkled hands and curled fingers gently bring the piano to life as we gather to sing our favorite songs of the season, having Grandpa recite his own childhood stories and the crackling jazz of Bing Crosby from his vintage record player in the corner.

No matter how you decide to include your elderly family members in the holidays, make sure the scents, the melodies, the laughter and love linger for many generations to come.

Hospice Care of South Carolina has provided excellent patient care since 1997. We are licensed to serve every county statewide allowing us to admit 7 days a week with local staff available 24 hours a day. Susan U. McCurry is the Community Relations Liaison for Hospice Care of South Carolina, particularly working for their Palliative Care program. She is also a licensed practical nurse, certified in hospice and palliative care and has been employed with Hospice Care of South Carolina for the past 12 years. Susan and her husband Michael have four children and live in the upstate town of Blacksburg, SC.

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Hospice is about preserving hope. It is about facing reality and making transitions that are good for the patient and the family.

Hospice is for anyone with a life limiting illness regardless of age.

Hospice neither hastens nor postpones dying. Sometimes patients live longer on hospice because pain is managed and symptoms are controlled.

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Shop Early - Shop Local Small Business Saturday is November 25th!

For the wild child in you . . . this flirty kitten heel, calf hair beauty, combines sleek with chic, making it the must have bootie of the season!

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Bring charm and warmth to any space with products from our carpet and rug dealers. In stock now is Joanna Gaines Magnolia Rug Collection!

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If your home decorating style is vintage, rural industrial, rustic country, shabby chic or traditional, 1803 Candles will complement your surroundings and smell fabulous! They are hand poured, 100% soy and fresh from the Midwest!

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Monogrammed poncho makes the perfect and personal holiday gift!

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The time has come for you to invest in your rest and relaxation. With these classic sage bamboo sheets, you’ll discover the unbeatable comfort and quality of bamboo bedding that your sleep’s possibly been missing. Our Classic Bamboo Sheets feature an amazing twill weave finish and are twice as soft as cotton. Each set includes 1 flat sheet, 1 fitted sheet, and 2 pillowcases, fitting mattresses up to 18” deep Cariloha Broadway at the Beach - 1210 Celebrity Circle Suite AA203, Myrtle Beach • 843-444-8221 Barefoot Landing - 4814 Hwy 17 S., North Myrtle Beach • 843-249-1890

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WOMEN’S LEADERSHIP CONFERENCE & CELEBRATION OF INSPIRING WOMEN

Presented by Women in Philanthropy and Leadership for Coastal Carolina University

February 5-6, 2018

Sheraton Myrtle Beach Convention Center Hotel • Myrtle Beach, SC

Featuring keynote speaker

Cara Brookins

New

Women’s Health Expo presented by

Cara’s breakthrough book, Rise: How a House Built a Family, details the extraordinary true story of taking the greatest risk of her life in order to heal from the unthinkable.

Tidelands Health presents the daylong expo titled “Better! Be strong. Be healthy.

Be you.” at the 2018 Women’s Leadership Conference.

February 5: Celebration of Inspiring Women (Evening event) February 6: Women’s Leadership Conference featuring the new Women’s Health Expo sponsored by Tidelands Health

The Women's Leadership Conference and Celebration of Inspiring Women brings together women from all walks of life for two days of education, professional and personal development, and networking.

For sponsorship or exhibitor information, email agravely@coastal.edu or call 843.349.5033.

COME BROWSE OUR WIDE SELECTION OF CHRISTMAS GIFTS!

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Designer Consignments Carolina Gourmet of Garden City The Oasis Shopping Center, 2520 Hwy 17 Buisness Unit #12 Garden City Beach, SC 29576 • 843-299-2340 www.carolinagourmetofgardencity@outlook.com www.carolinagourmetofgardencity.com Carolina Gourmet of Pawleys Island 10880 Ocean Hwy, Bldg #10 Pawleys Island, SC 29576 • 843-237-1999 carolinagourmetofpawleys@outlook.com www.carolinagourmetofpawleysisland.com Long Bay Symphony 2017-18 | 30th Anniversary Season SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 12, 2017

MASTERPIECES FROM EASTERN EUROPE Featuring violist Ziyu Shen Lutoslawski Bartok Enescu Dvorak

Mala Suite Viola Concerto Romanian Rhapsody No. 1 Symphony No. 8

MBHS MUSIC & ARTS CENTER | 4:00 PM

Messiah

SUNDAY, JANUARY 21, 2018

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TRINITY CHURCH, MYRTLE BEACH | 4:00 PM FREE ADMISSION – tickets must be reserved in advance by calling the LBS office

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with members of the Carolina Master Chorale and the St. Augustine Choir of Trinity Church

For Ticket Information call 843.448.8379 Or Visit Us at www.LongBaySymphony.com

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Celebrate the holidays with us!

The Cypress Room is open on Thanksgiving and Christmas Day, featuring a traditional holiday dinner.

Reservations required.

Now booking Holiday parties in the Cypress Room and Ballroom.

Breakfast and dinner served daily Breakfast 7:30 am-10:00 am Dinner 5:30 pm-8:30 pm (Reservations recommended)

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Grab a gift for him and put it in a Little Blue Bag from Grady’s!

317 Laurel Street, Conway, SC 29526 843.248.2624 • (Closed Sundays & Mondays)

Myrtle Beach • 6916 N. Kings Hwy. • 843-449-7673 Pawleys Island (Across From Fresh Market) • 843-979-9970

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Giving Thanks for Being an American

by Raquel Stabinski-Leib

I waved good bye from my window seat in the plane. I saw the two bent figures in the lookout terrace of the Havana airport, and I gave free rein to the contained tears that had threatened for so very long to erupt from my eyes. My parents, my friends and my country, the entire fabric of my life was being left behind.

The year was 1960, and I was a teenage girl headed toward the unknown.

I needed to escape the oppressive regime of Fidel Castro and thought of the United States as my only source of salvation. I was not left disappointed as America welcomed me with open arms, adopted me and treated me as one of her children.

I arrived in the fall, a season I had never experienced, and was immersed in the beauty of the palette of colors that dressed up the trees. Then, as the leaves began to fall from the branches as tears from saddened hearts, and I could not imagine them coming back to life in the spring, Thanksgiving Day arrived, a holiday I knew nothing about but seemed to be bringing so much joy to everyone.

Thi s was my f irst Thanksgiving, and when I bowed my head along with my hosts and the other guests to offer thanks for the bountiful table in front of us, I promised myself that from that day on I would forever choose that newfound holiday in this great land to celebrate the freedom pursued by many generations in my family without success until we finally attained it in America.

My father emigrated from Poland to Cuba as a young man. He did not know the language, he had no formal schooling, and no money, but he had an iron will. He married my mother, the daughter of poor immigrants herself, and together they embarked on the path of betterment for themselves and their children.

After years of hard work and myriad sacrifices, as my parents’ business flourished we became well off, moved to our own home in the suburbs, bought a car, and my brother and I set out on the path of a privileged life.

Unfortunately, the internal political turmoil in Cuba during the ‘50s soon began to erode at our quiet prosperous existence. This was the time when Fidel Castro and his troops were battling in the mountains and hills of the Sierra Maestra in order to overthrow the regime of Fulgencio Batista 34 and everyone in the country lived in fear. We were careful with what we

said in the presence of strangers, and we stayed close to home since it was impossible to predict where or when the next bomb would go off.

Following Castro’s takeover in January, 1959, we assumed that our long awaited normalcy was just at the turn of the next corner. Unfortunately, we had put all our hopes on a man who would soon begin to show his true colors. The fear of voicing our opinions continued, and it soon became evident that in Cuba, freedom of speech was already extinct and that we had exchanged a dictator for a communist.

Then the day came when my parents decided they best send me to El Norte. It was a sad parting to another culture with a different language, but they were confident that in America a brighter future awaited me. Fortunately, they were proven right.

Needless to say, my teenage memories are an intrinsic part of my everyday life, something I can never forget. I am painfully aware that living in a country where an individual has no human, civil or legal rights is like existing in spiritual slavery, incarcerated within the unmerciful rules of a tyrannical government. Now, as an American, I count myself blessed that I no longer live in panic for my life, my property or the wellbeing of my family. I am certain that I will never have to leave my worldly goods and start all over again in a far away land.

Lest I forget the privileges that this country has bestowed on me, I have kept the promise I made to myself 50 years ago and have continued to celebrate on Thanksgiving the good fortune of living in America, the greatest country in the world. As I remember my past under bondage, I am comforted by the knowledge that my gypsy days are over, and my family’s wandering have come to an end. Most of all, I am thankful for the knowledge that history will not repeat itself on my children.

Raquel Stabinski-Leib

is a freelance writer and author. A collection of her works appears in LIVES, a Soundwriters Anthology. She is writing her memoirs as a little Jewish girl growing up in Cuba: Cuban soil, Jewish Soul.

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37

The Great Snowman Building Competition: A Neighborhood Tradition

by Jeffery Cohen

At the sight of the first snowflakes floating down from gray skies, we began to pray for more. We went to bed with our fingers crossed as feathery white flakes coated the ground and trees. If we got lucky, there would be six inches on the ground by morning. At day’s first light, snow drifts were so high we couldn’t even open our front doors.

There was a standing tradition in my neighborhood. On the first good snowfall of the season every kid on the block entered our annual snowman building competition. It began early in the morning and ended in late afternoon. Then we’d gather together in front of the post office and walk from house to house evaluating each other’s efforts. Scoring in Olympic style, we’d raise the number of fingers our competitors deserved. No one ever scored higher than a seven. When the judging was complete, a hat was passed around and everyone dropped a buck in for the winner.

There were always beginners – kids who rolled up balls of snow, leaned a tattered broom alongside and called it a snowman, but the real contest was left up to us, the snow connoisseurs. This particular year, competition was going to be rough. Danny, my neighbor, had grown six inches over the summer, giving him a height advantage. His entry would rise up well over everyone else’s.

“Billy the Kid” from down the block depended on tradition. Tucked away in his closet behind a shoe box of baseball cards was a green paper shopping bag he called the “snowman kit.” It contained chunks of coal, a corn cob pipe and a big red button he’d filched from his mother’s winter coat. But the coup de grace was a beat up old silk top hat that gathered dust all year long. Now, every kid knew about Billy’s kit because he’d shoved it under their noses all summer long with a veiled threat.

“I can’t wait until it snows!” Billy shot a freckled grin as he slipped the oversized hat on and danced a chilly jig. The black shiny coal bounced against the walls of the bag with a dull, threatening rattle.

Yeah, he was gonna be tough to beat.

38

The Lakewood twins should have had an advantage – double the manpower, double the win, with the double

good Lakewood twins. But the sisters spent so much time arguing, they got less done than anyone else.

Around the corner was the sickly kid, Andy, who missed so much school that we hardly knew what he looked like. He’d had polio or something, and dragged one foot pretty badly. He was one we didn’t have to worry about. He’d be lucky if he could make his way out to the street to drop off his dollar.

Jackie Hall decided to break all rules. With an unprecedented move, he would forgo the snowman body completely, instead building one huge head – a bust of Abraham Lincoln, larger than the one at the Lincoln Memorial in Washington, DC. No lie, Honest Abe. Hoping to fly under the radar, when anyone asked me, I’d say I hadn’t given it much thought. The fact was, it was all I thought about as soon as winter scratched her icy finger over the fallen leaves of autumn. I spent hours drawing up plans on blue-lined notebook paper and collected a stack of crumpled up fan magazine to guide me. This year, I’d sculpt a life-size statue of the king himself – Elvis Presley, gyrating around a wailing guitar. I was already counting the prize money.

Minutes before nine, kids began to burrow through three-foot-high drifts to stake out their claims. Shovels of every size and shape began flinging waves of frozen white. Buckets and bushel baskets were filled and dumped. We packed, shaped and carved with everything from garbage can tops and garden rakes to soup ladles that we snuck out of our mother’s kitchens.

By midday, the block was a giant snow machine, each of us grinding out our frosty contribution while icy chips erupted like crystal fountains. We sucked in the frigid cold air then spit it out in gray clouds of vapor rising above our heads. The sound of fresh snow being crunched by black buckled boots echoed around the block. Wet mittens and soaking socks didn’t even slow us down.

When our moms tried to coax us in with promises of hot chocolate or warnings of certain pneumonia, we simply waved them off with our own promises. “We’ll be in...as soon as we’re done.”

Nearing three o’clock, most of the grunt work was done. Plans were completed, last minute changes decided on. Now, like artisans of old,

we lovingly etched fine details into the ice with screwdrivers, forks and spoons. Fine powder was scraped and chiseled away with the same respect sculptors of ancient Rome paid to Carrara marble. Finally... we were finished.

The tour began uneventfully. The youngsters had plenty to learn. Some had been helped by their fathers which didn’t sit well in the judging, and so after the first five houses, the highest score was a three. As we trudged down the street, the age of the competitors and the size of their entries grew. Danny, as expected, used his extra height to create a six footer, which everyone saw as the leading contender until they glanced across the street. At the top of a wooden step ladder that they had dragged out of their garage, the twins balanced a paper cone they’d fashioned into a dunce cap on top of a crude replica of their school principal. This made their entry eight feet tall. Not much for style, but it was clearly the tallest and picked up a score of five to tie Danny.

At last, Billy used his snowman kit, and though his entry bore a remarkable resemblance to the famous “Frosty,” it lacked originality and scored a disappointing four. Jackie spent most of the day chipping away at an enormous ball of snow in an attempt to summon up the sixteenth President’s face but in the end, the gamble didn’t pay off. All he wound up with was a great big snowball with a beard. It scored a measly three.

At my house, wet, crumpled drawings bleeding ink into the snow, mixed with spent pages of fan magazines lay scattered across my front yard.

“What’s that supposed to be?” someone yelled.

“Elvis Presley and his guitar,” I answered without hesitation.

“Looks more like Don Ho and his ukulele!” someone screamed, and everyone howled so loudly they were barely able to give me my four points.

The next two houses turned out to be real contenders. Amy Johnson shaped a delicate faun. Small, but realistic. She completed her entry by spearing two live roses that she’d “borrowed” from a flower arrangement in her mother’s living room into the snow next to the baby deer. She took the lead with a six.

and a lion tamer half buried inside the open jaws of the king of beasts.

Each snowman was so finely formed, so lifelike that you could almost smell peanuts and hear a calliope in the background. And there at the center, like the ringmaster, Andy moved at a feverish pace, scraping and smoothing, as he pulled his body from figure to figure.

A pair of heavily gloved hands next to me began to slap together in a dull clap. Then a second and a third joined until every kid in the neighborhood exploded with wild applause. It went on for minutes before someone took off his hat and we began dropping our dollars in.

But before it reached the end of the line, each kid dug down deeper and emptied every coin he had into that hat until it was filled to the brim. I straddled the fence and presented the prize to Andy. He had no words.

Neither did I. We both just smiled and nodded to each other.

Later that month, Andy was taken to the hospital and he had a pretty rough time of it. He didn’t return home until the following fall. The first heavy snowstorm of winter brought everyone out as usual – everyone but Andy. The doctors said he was too weak to go outdoors. The “Great Snowman Building Competition” went on as usual. At the end of the day, the judging almost complete, we turned the corner and lined up in front of Andy’s picket fence. There, pristine drifts of untouched white snow glistened, but no one could forget what stood there just a year ago. One by one, we began to clap. The applause continued until the blue curtain on the second floor was pulled back, and Andy peaked out. Gloves flew off as every kid waved their hands above their heads showing ten fingers. I’d like to believe that Andy smiled that day, even though we couldn’t really see through the frost of his window.

In the spring he was rushed to the hospital again, but this time there was no coming back. Andy slipped away while the snow was still melting on the ground.

There are so many things that we forget from our childhood – friend’s names we can barely remember. Times and places seem to evaporate or get buried as the years pile on. But I do know this. There is not one of us who lived on that block who will ever forget Andy and the white crystal circus that he gave us that winter in the “Great Snowman Building Competition.”

Shorty Sheldon’s entry was an average snowman, but he dressed it in a winter coat he’d outgrown. A pair of sunglasses clung to the blank white face, which was topped off by an earmuff hat. A mittened hand extended out to the side with the thumb up, hitching a ride. The other arm cradled a sign that read “Florida.” One look and everyone knew the “hitchhiker” had pulled into the lead. Seven big points!

We pretty much figured that the contest was over as we rounded the corner and rambled up to the picket fence that surrounded Andy’s yard.

All of the giggling and poking stopped dead. A great silence fell over the group. Some squinted to adjust their vision. Others rubbed their eyes in disbelief. There we stood, our mouths hanging open, as a three ring circus created in snow unfolded before us.

The first thing that caught my eye was an elephant, his trunk snaking high in the air, greeting a floppy-eared monkey who crashed cymbals together while dancing on the pachyderm’s back. A bearded lady played patty-cake with a stiff-collared clown, while a juggler atop a ball balanced a broom on his nose. There were slinky seals playing horns,

Jeffery Cohen

Freelance writer and newspaper columnist, Jeffery Cohen, has written for Sasee, Lifetime and Read, Learn, Write. He’s won awards in Women-On-Writing Contest, Vocabula’s Well Written Contest, National League of American Pen Women’s’ Keats Competition, Southern California Genealogy Competition, and Writer’s Weekly writing contest.

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Table Talk

by Diane DeVaughn Stokes Can we talk? Did you ever have a mental block about something and wondered why in the heck you could not remember how it was done?

That’s how I am with technology and computer stuff. But so what?

Luckily I am married to a techie who can help me every step of the way!

However, there is something else that I am more embarrassed about. It’s something all women should know and be good at. It should be in our blood and genetics. It should come naturally. More than anything, once you do it, you should be able to remember how to do it the next time!

But sadly I can’t! I’m talking about table settings.

Thank goodness when I moved out of the house forty-five years ago, my mom and dad gave me a Better Homes and Garden Cookbook. You know the red plaid one with all the yellow sections on pies, cakes, side dishes, measurements, meat portions etc. But my most treasured part of it is the one on place settings. I have used it over and over throughout the years almost every time someone comes for dinner. I can prove it to you by showing you the ruptured binder holes in that section that have been taped and mended more times than I care to count. I just can’t seem to remember the proper order of things from one dinner guest to another, even though we entertain frequently.

Don’t laugh. But when I was a kid, I never had to set a formal table, as we were a very informal family. And it wasn’t until I was twenty-five that I had to do it for the first time. Now Mom, if you are reading this, don’t think I am blaming you. You were a perfect mother. It’s just that when we did finally have a formal family event like Thanksgiving and Christmas you and Dad handled it.

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I hate to admit my forgetfulness, but I can never remember if the salad bowl goes on the right or left. Okay, I just looked it up. It goes on the left but it seems that it would be easier to dig into it on the right. Why stretch across your plate to eat from it, especially if you are right-handed?

Maybe it should depend on what hand you use most? I wonder who I can write to in order to get that changed? Who set up the original rules on this stuff anyway?

I used to not be able to recall whether the knife blade turned into the plate or out. Then I reminded myself if it turned out, it might cut someone by mistake. That helped seal it into my old fuzzy brain. And another formal place setting statistic that I can never remember – does the teaspoon or tablespoon go next to the knife? Well, I try to associate that with the fact that you are small before you grow bigger, so it’s the teaspoon first. Yes, sometimes these little hints work for me. Other times I reference the photo spread in my trusty cookbook.

One of the most innovative place settings I ever saw was one my mom did for dinner the first time I brought my future husband, Chuck to meet my parents. Mom knew that he was a Carolina graduate, so to tease him, and lighten the evening, she put out her Clemson orange tablecloth and napkins, which was a very fashionable color at that time, using the inner cardboard roll from toilet paper as napkin rings. Of course she turned the utensils upside down and the centerpiece was a planter with a man in a big sombrero hat with a big cactus. If you know my mother and her risqué wit, you will easily be able to fill in the blanks regarding the placement of the cactus. As if that wasn’t bad enough, she and my dad dressed up with wigs and hats and mismatched clothes that made them look like the parents of Second Hand Rose!

God bless Chuck, he married me anyway.

Speaking of Chuck, I am lucky he did not grow up in a stuffy formal environment so he could easily adjust to my style. He does not even know there is a right way and wrong way to set a table. I knew he was the man of my dreams when we were out to dinner one night with friends many years ago, and I saw him eating the roll off of someone else’s bread plate!

utensils in a basket and put it in the middle of the table and let everyone help him or herself. Who cares? It’s more important to get together with good friends and create good memories than it is to have a memorable table setting! Let’s toast to that! (By the way, YOUR glass is on the right!) Cheers!

I am especially glad that my mom convinced me to choose stainless steel for our bridal registry instead of real silver, because she was right as usual –who has time to shine and buff it before using it? I use our stainless steel silverware all the time, and it still looks great today!

So even though the whole table setting thing causes me to break out in a sweat, I still use my china, stainless and crystal whenever anyone comes to dinner, even an informal one. I remember what Irma Bombeck said upon knowing she was dying, that one of the things she would have done differently if she could live her life over, was that she would have dined in the dining room more often than just on holidays, and she would have used her formal china regularly.

Now the older I get, I care less about getting it right. I care less about formality. I care less if someone criticizes me for making a mistake and getting something wrong. So what if I flunk table setting! Toss the

Diane DeVaughn Stokes

is the President of Stages Video Productions, Host and Producer for TV show “Inside Out” on HTC, and EASY Radio Host weekdays noon to 3pm. Her passions include food, travel and theater. You can reach her at diane@stagesvideo.com

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Thanksgiving Traditions

by Leslie Moore

Chef Joseph Bonaparte “Food is important in our family,” said Chef Joseph Bonaparte, Executive Director of Horry Georgetown Technical College’s International Culinary Institute of Myrtle Beach. “My father died when I was seven, and a lot of the time I spent with my mother was in the kitchen. She just turned 86, and my sister and I traveled to her home in Texas. By my mother’s request, we spent her birthday sitting around her kitchen table making pasta – that’s what she wanted, and we had a great time.”

Chef Bonaparte prepares his childhood favorite, Sausage Sage Stuffing, for Thanksgiving and Christmas. “Our holiday menus are very traditional – turkey, mashed potatoes, green beans, etc. I like keeping family food traditions alive.” This 30 year veteran chef remembers that

he didn’t like the chestnuts as a child. “After years of cooking, I now appreciate roasting and peeling,” he said with a laugh.

A state of the art facility, The International Culinary Institute of Myrtle Beach opened last year, just after Hurricane Matthew came through our area. “This is a world class facility and very cost effective for students. I’m very proud of the curriculum, and the competency of our students is equal to a much more costly school.” Chef Bonaparte came to our community three and a half years ago to lead the development of the new school – revamping the entire culinary program.

The program has five full time and four part time chefs on staff, and has already doubled the number of students since the 2016 opening.

Chef Geoffrey Blount As the Baking and Pastry Arts Instructor at Horry Georgetown Technical College’s new International Culinary Institute of Myrtle Beach, Chef Geoffrey Blount is very proud of the new culinary school.

“It’s got state of the art equipment, and potential for growth – it has put HGTC on the map for culinary arts.”

“I didn’t plan to be a chef,” Chef Blount told me laughing, when I asked the origins of his love for food. “I actually majored in Technical Theatre Arts – I wanted to do the lighting, set design, etc.”

However, as a student he had always worked in food service, and fell in love with the craft. “In this industry you can always work and you’re always fed!” He went on to say that a true chef has a passion and drive that pushes him to create the

very best. “You have to care about every detail; you have to be all about the food.”

Chef Blount grew up spending summers on his grandparents’ farm, where fresh, well prepared food was always a top priority. “This pie or tart always reminds me of spending the holidays on my Aunt Martha’s Farm in Molena, Georgia,” he remembered. “There was a large pecan tree in the yard, and Martha would always have a large table full of different kinds of pecan sweets and confections. I would hurry into the house and look through all of the tins on the table and try all the different kinds of sweets. But what I loved was this marriage of sweet potato pie and pecans that was unveiled on Thanksgiving. It smelled soooooo good.

Local foodies are welcome to visit the school and purchase student creations.

Located on the Grand Strand Campus of HGTC, The Fowler Dining Room, featuring delicious gourmet lunches, is open to the public, by reservation only, and Layers Bakery, featuring pastries, cakes, cookies, sandwiches and more is open Monday – Thursday. Call 843- 843-839-7001 or visit www.hgtc.edu/culinary for more information.

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Sausage Chestnut Stuffing Ingredients

1 lb. pork sausage 1 medium Spanish onion - small diced 6 stalks celery- small diced 2 cloves of garlic - minced ½ c. dry white wine 4 c. low-sodium chicken broth 1 loaf hearty bread - day old 1 c. roasted, peeled chestnuts 1½ tbsp. fresh thyme leaves - chopped 1 tbsp. fresh rosemary leaves - chopped 2 tbsp. fresh sage leaves - chopped 2 tbsp. fresh flat leaf parsley leaves 4 tbsp. butter - diced small Salt and fresh crushed black pepper to taste Directions Heat oven to 350°F. Brown the sausage in a large skillet over mediumhigh heat. Transfer to a large bowl (leave the fat in the pan) and set aside. Reduce heat to medium-low, add the onion, celery and garlic and cook until translucent – about 5 minutes. Stir in the wine and cook until evaporated for 5 minutes. Add the broth and cook, stirring occasionally, until the liquid is reduced by a quarter – 8 to 10 minutes.

Toss the onion with the sausage, bread, chestnuts, and herbs to combine, taste and adjust salt and black pepper. Transfer to a large, shallow baking dish. Scatter butter over the top. Bake until the top is golden and crisp – 30 to 40 minutes.

Sweet Potato Pecan Tart Ingredients

4 eggs beaten 1 cup mashed sweet potato 1 cup sugar 1/2 cup corn syrup 1 teaspoon vanilla 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon 1 cup pecans 1 tablespoon maple extract 1 - 9” unbaked pie disk Equipment Needed 8 or 9 inch tart ring Medium mixing bowl Whisk Measuring spoons Measuring cups Small rolling pin (optional) Fork Directions Place pie dough in tart ring and press to edges with fingers. Prick bottom of pie shell lightly with fork. Now, in mixing bowl, mix rest of ingredients with whisk until blended. Pour into pie shell and bake in preheated 335 degree oven for 40 to 45 minutes. To check that pie is done press gently on top of tart to check resistance – the tart should not jiggle when touched. Remove tart from oven, let stand for one hour, then refrigerate for at least five hours before removing outer ring. You are now ready to serve. Tart freezes well – remove outer ring first and make sure it is wrapped air tight.

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Turkey on the Loose – And Thankfully Found

by Valerie Marier

My mother’s sewing machine hummed all year but it leapt into overdrive in early November. She’d dig into her stash of dog-eared Family Circle magazines, locate a “DIY in 10-Minutes Thanksgiving Potholder” pattern, sit down at her Singer and sew serenely all afternoon.

“I thought you might like this for your table, Val,” she’d say, presenting me with a ten-foot-long tablecloth ablaze with orange and yellow leaves, hemmed in brown ball fringe. A week later she’d pop by toting a red felt turkey head, stuffed with batting and attached to a metal rod.

“Get yourself a ripe pineapple at the A&P,” she’d say. “And stick the turkey head on top – it makes an adorable centerpiece.”

From aprons trimmed with tangerine rick-rack to dishtowels featuring hand-stitched pumpkins, Mom’s Thanksgiving craftsmanship was bottomless – and endless. Every year my holiday storage box became more crammed. Her colorful projects didn’t exactly enhance my muted home decor.

Rick-rack wasn’t my thing. I certainly wasn’t partial to ball fringe. But I loved Mom and dutifully used every turkey trapping she gave me over the years.

Her one creation that I actually and truly liked was a four-by-six-foot tan banner with an embroidered multicolored turkey sitting beneath the words: “Come Ye Thankful People, Come.” Over the past two decades, that banner has hung above the fireplace mantle, from a front attic windowsill, but primarily on the entrance porch, always a beacon of our hospitality.

The banner welcomed siblings from Colorado, New York, and New Mexico, who frequently flew in for the four-day weekend with their 50 children. It lent credence to our family’s open-door policy of inviting

“strays” and singles who were alone over the holiday to join us.

Two years ago my husband and I decided to spend Thanksgiving in Florida, where his daughters live. I asked my daughter Alex, who lives in nearby Portsmouth, New Hampshire, if she would like to use any of my decorations. Indeed she did.

“Can I have the turkey banner to hang on our front door?” she asked.

After the holiday Alex put the banner in a box in her basement. Christmas came and went, winter thawed into spring, summer faded to fall. Suddenly, it was the week before Thanksgiving, 2016.

I texted Alex and reminded her that I needed the banner since I would be hosting the family that year.

But there was a problem. Alex couldn’t find the banner. And for a horrible reason.

The prior Memorial Day weekend, Alex’s house had been completely destroyed by fire. Ten fire trucks with gushing hoses couldn’t extinguish the raging blaze that swept through and ravaged her four-bedroom home. No one was hurt, but the loss of “stuff ” was profound. It took a full year and a week before she, her husband and two children could move back into their reconstructed home.

W hen brother Robert arrived from Colorado, with his family on the Wednesday afternoon before Thanksgiving last year, he looked at the wall of the entrance porch where the banner usually hung. “Where’s Mom’s banner?” he asked.

“The fire,” I answered. “It was in Alex’s basement.”

On Thanksgiving morning, we all breakfasted on our “traditional”

sour cream coffee cake layered with whole cranberry sauce. We played Rummikub into the night on a table covered with Mom’s handmade yellow and orange tablecloth. The weathered red felt turkey-headed pineapple graced my kitchen island. Only the family banner was missing.

This September I began to plan Thanksgiving 2017. Because my brother and sister were coming with their families, I wanted to start baking coffee cakes ahead to put in the freezer. I had to figure out where 14 relatives were going to sleep. As I was making a chart of arriving bodies and available beds, my phone rang.

When Mom died 22 years ago, she didn’t leave her children money or stock. That frugal woman bequeathed a richer, more meaningful inheritance of hand-sewn tablecloths and turkey heads, along with words she wanted her family to live by: “Come Ye Thankful People, Come.”

And we do.

Alex said, “Mom, you’re not going to believe this. I was down in my basement this morning, sorting through some of the boxes that had been in storage all last year from the fire – and I found the banner! It smells like smoke, it’s a little moldy, but I’ve got it!”

During the long hard year after Alex’s house burned down, we all learned the collateral horror of fire. My daughter’s family not only lost their home, they lost library books and lacrosse team shirts, treasured photo albums and piano lesson song sheets, Christmas stockings, ski hats, Easter baskets, bicycles and a 15-year-old’s lifetime accumulation of Legos.

Yes, it was all “stuff.” And fortunately, no one was hurt in the fire. But finding that family banner still reeking of smoke reminds me why we gather together.

Valerie Marier

Val walks Kennebunk (Maine) Beach near daily. When not writing her blog or magazine articles, she knits sweaters for four beloved grands, plays 18 holes of golf, reads novels and weeds her vegetable garden. Life is happily full for this slightlyarthritic 75-year-old, and you can contact her on her website; www.wanderingwithval.com. You might find it’s a fun trip!

Give Well Do Good

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Please call to schedule your private tour (843) 353-1525 699 Prince Creek Parkway, Murrells Inlet, SC, 29576 • ThriveAtPrinceCreek.com

November 2017

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Bag Ladies Luncheon to benefit the Art Museum of Myrtle Beach The Dunes Golf and Beach Club, 11am-1pm, $50 per person includes luncheon and raffle ticket.

For more info, call 843-238-2510 or visit myrtlebeachartmuseum.org

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Taste of Georgetown, to benefit the Family Justice Center, 12:30-3 pm, Front Street, Georgetown.

For more info, call 843-546-3926

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Art in the Park, 10 am-4 pm, 4-5 Chapin Park, 11-12 Valor Park, Market Common.

For more info, call 843 446-3830 or visit artsyparksy.com 36th Annual Dickens Christmas Show, Myrtle Beach Convention Center, Thurs. 9 am-6 pm, Fri. & Sat. 9 am-8 pm, Sun. noon-6 pm.

For more info, visit dickenschristmasshow.com or call 800-261-5991

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Fallidays, a Celebration of Artworks 20th Birthday, 2-5pm, Litchfield Exchange, live music & food. For more info, call 843-235,9600

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2017 Murrells Inlet Oyster Roast, 11:30am-3pm, Wicked Tuna, Murrells Inlet.

All you can eat oysters $35. For more info, call 843-651-9987 or visit murrellsinletsc.com

18

MB Annual Direct Sellers Christmas Open House; open to the public, 9am-5pm.

Clarion Hotel, free. Shop for Christmas and win door prizes! For more info, call 843-903-0924

25

Intracoastal Christmas Boat Regatta, 5 pm start at Little River south to Dock Holidays Marina.

For more info, call 843 249-8888 or visit christmasregatta.com

30, 12/1-2, 7-9, 14-17

Nights of a Thousand Candles, Brookgreen Gardens, 3-10pm.

For more info, call 888-718-4253 or visit brookgreen.org

12/1

Christmas Candlelight Tour of Homes, 4-8 pm, North Myrtle Beach, $30, presented by NMB Women’s Club. For more info, call 843-655-2688 or visit northmyrtlebeachwomensclub.com

12/2

Annual Atalaya Holiday Celebration, 11am-4pm, Huntington Beach State Park, $3 plus park admission. Holiday decorations, vendors, entertainment and food! For more info, call 843-237-4440

12/2-3

Santa on the Beach, Myrtle Beach State Park, 11am-3 pm both days. Enjoy arts, crafts, games on Saturday and bring your camera on Sunday for the perfect holiday photo, pets on leashes welcome.

For more info, call 843-238-0874 or visit myrtlebeachsp.com

Turkey, Tofu and Sushi

by Joan Leotta

Both turkey and tofu are welcome at my Thanksgiving table. We, my husband and I, are confirmed “turketarians” (breast meat only) but our children did not hold to that. Jennie decided early on to boycott turkey and my delicious, New York Times inspired hazelnut stuffing.

So, I began to make a ham for her and others who might not like turkey as well as we.

When inviting people, I always ask if there are dark meat fans among them. If the answer is yes, then I add turkey legs to my pan (yes, you can buy them separately!).

Vegetarians, though, are another animal (all puns intended). I do not believe in making them forage among the side dishes for something to fill up on before the pumpkin pie. Early on in my family cooking career, I faced the vegetarian challenge and had to “up” my game for guests.

Our daughter Jennie was band president her senior year and the band was hosting a group from Australia. We agreed to house two girls. The week before the group was to arrive, I got a call from the coordinator: “Joan, I know you like to cook. We’ve assigned you the two vegetarian girls. You don’t mind do you?” I laughed. Our daughter and some friends were planning to take whoever stayed with them to the Outback Steakhouse one night! I had posed the question about vegetarians, and our daughter had responded, “Mom, no Australians are vegetarians.” Needless to say she had to eat those words (groaning pun!) along with tofu stir fry, ratatouille, and several other vegetarian entrees while the girls were here.

Cooking for them was relatively easy since dairy was allowed, but in later years, as my daughter began to accumulate vegan friends in college, I expanded my repertoire to include vegan options. At Thanksgiving time, I have those recipes in reserve. When necessary, I label the various dishes, or place them in serving dishes of the same color or pattern so that the vegetarian and vegan folks can simply serve themselves at the table without feeling any stigma.

But I think the best

“twist” on Thanksgiving for us was the year we served seven Japanese guests and they brought rice balls and sushi to the feast. I used to help out at our church’s English as a Second Language program. I became close to a woman named Akiko whose husband has been assigned to a job in the Washington D.C. area. She and I met outside of class and talked and talked! I invited her, her husband and their three children, who went to an international school, to celebrate this most American holiday with us.

I planned the menu carefully, and invited our usual guests as well, a couple whose children lived out of town and who that year, coincidentally, were hosting someone from Japan! “Bring her along,” I told Vivian. “Your friend will fit right in.”

I worked hard to make the menu even more “American” than usual. I even found a recipe for a “three sisters” casserole, which could serve as a main dish if my guests did not like turkey or ham. Native Americans called squash, corn and beans the three sisters. My recipe combined the tree in a casserole hearty enough to be a vegetarian main course (without the cheese it could be vegan). I served all of the usual suspects and considered serving some sushi as a first course, but I settled on smoked salmon as part of the appetizer array. I discretely moved it to the main table during the meal in case our Japanese guests did not really like any American food.

When Akiko’s family arrived, they brought two rice cookers to make rice balls for us – a tradition of autumn holidays in Japan. Their girls were wearing western clothing, but changed into Japanese traditional clothes and then performed a little autumn festival song for us. My children, along with the three girls (my daughter directed) then put on a short play that talked about Native American and Pilgrim friendship. At the table, we all chatted happily over the reason the various foods came to be a part of the American Thanksgiving.

“Benjamin Franklin wanted the wild turkey to become America’s symbol bird,” our son announced. Everyone agreed it was better that the eagle won. “After all,” I concluded, “we might not have thought it polite to gobble up the national bird. I’m glad turkey dominates the table and not our national symbols.”

We had such a good time talking, laughing over everything that I forgot to take pictures! It’s the only Thanksgiving not represented in our albums, but it is certainly deeply etched upon our hearts.

The following week, my friend Akiko called to tell me that all three of her children were stars in their respective classes, as the only students who had eaten this special meal in the home of a real American family.

After she hung up, I thought about how very “real” our day was, how much our celebration had mirrored the spirit and actuality of the First Thanksgiving. Just like the first Thanksgiving, two cultures came together, brought the best they had to offer for everyone to share, and gave thanks for the food and friendship while enjoying each other’s company over a meal.

56

Three Sisters Casserole 2 tablespoons olive oil 1 small onion, chopped (about 1 cup) 3 stalks celery, chopped 2 cloves garlic, minced (about 2 teaspoons) 1 teaspoon ground coriander 1 teaspoon cumin 4 cups butternut squash, peeled and cut into 1-inch cubes 1 cup diced tomatoes 1 teaspoon salt 1 cup water or stock ½ cup rice 2 cups canned black beans, drained and rinsed 1 cup canned corn Heat olive oil in a large saucepan over medium heat. Add onion, and cook for seven minutes or until they begin to brown. Add celery, and cook a few more minutes, until tender. Add garlic, coriander and cumin. Stir in squash and tomatoes, making sure they are coated with the spices. Add salt and cook for five minutes, stirring occasionally. Stir in ½ cup water or stock and the rice and transfer mixture to a greased 2-3 quart or larger casserole with a lid. Bake for 25-30 minutes at 375 or until done. Check halfway through to make sure there is enough liquid.

Note: I further adapted the recipe by adding 1/3 cup grated cheddar cheese. Some put cornbread mix on top of the casserole instead of a lid.

Joan Leotta

of Calabash, North Carolina, has been playing with words since childhood. She is a journalist, playwright, short story writer and author of several mysteries and romances as well as a poet. She also performs folklore and one-woman shows on historic figures.

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Advertiser Index

58

All Sufficient Insurance...............................................................................................20 Angelo’s Steak & Pasta.................................................................................................21 Aunique Boutique.......................................................................................................11 The B. Graham Interiors Collection............................................................................15 Barbara’s Fine Gifts......................................................................................................21 Belk.............................................................................................................................20 The Blue Heron Gallery..............................................................................................10 Brightwater.................................................................................................................35 Broadway Grand Prix..................................................................................................27 Brookgreen Gardens....................................................................................................11 Callahan’s of Calabash...................................................................................................3 Carolina Car Care.......................................................................................................36 Carolina Gardens - Garden City..................................................................................15 Carolina Gourmet.......................................................................................................32 Christopher’s Jewelers..................................................................................................40 The Citizens Bank.......................................................................................................25 Class LLC...................................................................................................................29 Coastal Luxe................................................................................................................47 design.by.nature..........................................................................................................13 Designer Consignments..............................................................................................32 Details by Three Sisters................................................................................................42 Doodlebugs.................................................................................................................27 Dr. Grabeman.............................................................................................................29 Dr. Sattele’s Rapid Weight Loss & Esthetic Centers.....................................................41 Eleanor Pitts................................................................................................................36 First Book...................................................................................................................20 Fogarty Plumbing........................................................................................................43 Fowler Life Coaching..................................................................................................36 Frame Factory.............................................................................................................40 Good Deed Goods......................................................................................................51 Grady’s Jewelers...........................................................................................................33 Home Couture............................................................................................................57 Homespun Crafters Mall.............................................................................................54 Hospice Care of SC.....................................................................................................29 Island Vista.................................................................................................................33 Just Sew U Know........................................................................................................37

Kaminski House..........................................................................................................45 The Lakes at Litchfield..................................................................................................7 Long Bay Symphony...................................................................................................32 Marion Chamber of Commerce..................................................................................17 MUSC..........................................................................................................................5 North Myrtle Beach Woman’s Club............................................................................37 Nye’s Pharmacy...........................................................................................................32 Oreck of the Carolinas................................................................................................25 Palmetto Ace...............................................................................................................43 The Palmettos Assisted Living & Memory Care...........................................................10 Papa John’s Pizza.........................................................................................................44 Paperwhites.................................................................................................................15 Pawleys Island Festival of Music & Art........................................................................43 Resourceful Realty.......................................................................................................37 Rose Arbor Fabrics......................................................................................................33 Sago House Furniture..................................................................................................45 SB Turf & Mulch........................................................................................................14 Sea Island Trading Co....................................................................................................2 Seven Seas Seafood......................................................................................................53 Shades and Draperies....................................................................................................9 Shoney’s Restaurants...................................................................................................28 The Shops at Tweaked.................................................................................................40 A Silver Shack.............................................................................................................52 South Atlantic Bank....................................................................................................59 St. Francis Animal Center...........................................................................................53 Stuckey Brothers Furniture..........................................................................................54 Sunset River Marketplace............................................................................................42 Taylors Boutique.........................................................................................................21 Taz..............................................................................................................................44 Terry & Don’s Gymnastics..........................................................................................60 Thrive at Prince Creek.................................................................................................54 Two Sisters with Southern Charm...............................................................................52 Young Plantations.......................................................................................................42 WEZV........................................................................................................................58 WISH Candle.............................................................................................................19 Women in Philanthropy..............................................................................................31

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