June 2021
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June 2021 “ Summer Daze”
Contents Volume 20, Issue 6
8
Summers with Guacamole by Susan Shone
Your Time 10 Waste by Gloria Mesa
12
Gigi & Chip Cox: Life at The Lakes by Sarah Elaine Hawkinson
16
Vacation Ups and Downs by Jeffery Cohen
Pam Dunn: a Day Goes to Waste in a 20 Not Lowcountry Backyard Escape by Sarah Elaine Hawkinson I Did on my Summer Vacation 24 What by Georgia A. Hubley Motion of the Ocean 28 The by Diane DeVaughn Stokes
32 Sasee Reads! I’m Supposed to Be 36 Where by Rose Ann Sinay
from the Editor
Publisher Delores Blount Sales & Marketing Director Susan Bryant Growing up, my most cherished summertime activity was definitely boat days with my family and our friends. My dad owns the classic 1986 Boston Whaler which guided us on many outdoor adventures. We would go out on the river and travel to Sandy Island or coast the marshy inlet and spend time at The Point. During the day, us kids would take turns riding the tube as we prepared to be thrown off over a big wake (and I was secretly always afraid of which water animal would snag me as I would wait for dad to come back around to the rescue). The dads were usually in charge of the boat driving, but one time the moms took us for a spin in the tube and somehow managed to completely wrap us around a tree. They laughed but swore us to secrecy… Oops! My family’s favorite time to go boating is for a sunset cruise. Regardless, the only music played while out on the water was an old Jimmy Buffet CD that to my knowledge, has never left the disc player in decades. You see, my dad has this hat that explains him (and probably most dads) very well. The front of the hat reads, “The Captain is always right…” and the back of it reads, “…and I’m The Captain!” My dad does enjoy being right, but he is also a strong, grounded, and rational man. He knows something about everything, so he is always giving out life advice. My father is truly my biggest fan. He loves to brag about how cool his daughter is, I mean, can you blame him? It’s safe to say that I certainly got my humor from him. Seriously, he takes dad jokes to a whole new level! My dad is a hard worker, devoted golfer, great beer drinker, an avid YouTube watcher, and a phenomenal cook. Even though I don’t stand on his toes anymore, he will always be my favorite shag partner and even though I am an adult now, I know I will always be his little girl. *Cue the song “My Girl” by The Temptations* Happy Father’s Day & Happy Summer Daze,
Editor Sarah Elaine Hawkinson Account Executives Erica Schneider Gay Stackhouse Art Director Patrick Sullivan Contributing Photographer Chasing the Light Photography Web Developer Scott Konradt Accounting Gail Knowles 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. Submissions of articles and art are welcome. Visit our website for details on submission. Sasee is a Strand Media Group, Inc. publication. Copyright © 2021. All rights reserved. Reproduction of any material, in part or in whole, prepared by Strand Media Group, Inc. and appearing within this publication is strictly prohibited. Title “Sasee” is registered with the U.S. Patent & Trademark Office.
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Summers with Guacamole by Susan Shone
When I think of “must-have summer recipes,” several dishes immediately come to mind. Key lime pie; cheesecake; all manner of red, white, and blue desserts for Memorial Day, Fourth of July, and Labor Day; potato salad; deviled eggs; fried green tomatoes; corn on the cob – and many more. Because I am from Texas and dearly love Mexican and Tex-Mex food, I love tacos and chili during the summer as I do in every other season. But I must settle on guacamole as my favorite summer food. I’d like to tell you it’s because guacamole is so good for people, thanks to the health benefits of avocados (and the also-healthy fresh tomatoes, cilantro, and onion my recipe uses). I could say I nominate guacamole as a champion food of summer because of its versatility – it can be used as an alternative to mayonnaise on sandwiches and tastes good on burgers, and of course, it’s nice alongside fajitas, burritos, enchiladas, chalupas, etc. But that’s not my reason for choosing to share my guacamole recipe, either. The embarrassing truth is, I have a sentimental attachment to guacamole. It reminds me of happy days when I was young, living in Texas when every day felt lit with sunshine. Nothing on my body hurt yet from aging, everybody in my family was still alive, and it felt like my future held infinite possibilities. I really felt like I had the world on a string, a tiger by the tail. I was fearless and happy – there was no reason not to be. Flash forward 30 years. I bought a wonderful TexMex cookbook I found in a bookstore. The cookbook was written by some transplanted Texans now living in Washington, DC. Within its pages was a simple but delicious recipe for guacamole. I tried the recipe out and loved it, and I’ve been making that same recipe ever since and happily sharing the results with friends who share my guacamole fixation. Five years ago, I made a big batch of guacamole for the people in the office where I was working at the time, and when they oohed and aahed over it, I quipped, “You have to learn how to make decent guacamole if you’re from Texas. If you can’t, they’ll take away your passport!” 8 :: Sasee.com :: June 2021
And finally, I will admit to you that I actually wrote a song about guacamole, those five years ago. My workplace was so full of tension at the time that I just wanted to have some way to laugh and to have my coworkers laugh. And you know what? It worked. My small little office got some big belly laughs and a lot of delicious guacamole and chips to get through that particular workweek. Yes, guacamole is magical. Yes, it has that power. My guacamole song was really a love song to Texas, the place where I grew up and which I still think of as home. Very few people have heard me sing my guacamole song out loud, but those who did giggled or smiled, which is nice. My hastily written lyrics are set to the tune of “It’s a long way to Tipperary,” and yes, I’ll share them with you. Feel free to sing them yourself sometime if you’re having a bad day. They actually work; they actually help; they actually make you feel better.
It’s a long way to guacamole It’s a long way from here It’s a long way to guacamole To the land I hold so dear
It’s a long way to guacamole To the land of sunshine so fair When I’ve got me a hot tamale I’ll know I’m finally there!
Please pass me some Picante Tomatillo sauce will do, too Sure wish I’d taken Spanish Way back when in my high school!
It’s a long way to guacamole To the land of sunshine so fair When I’ve got me a hot tamale I’ll know I’m finally there!
Let it never be said that I am afraid to look or sound silly. And, because my mother told me I’d never make it through life without a sense of humor, I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Here is the guacamole recipe, courtesy of the 1978 Tex/Mex cookbook authored by Rue Judd and Ann Worley.
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Guacamole 2 ripe avocados, mashed ½ peeled tomato, finely chopped 2 Tbsp. grated onion 2 Tbsp. fresh cilantro, finely chopped 2 Tbsp. lemon juice Salt and pepper to taste 2 dashes of Tabasco sauce
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Susan Shone is a freelance writer and transplanted Texan living in Virginia. She loves summer and sunshine as much as she does good dogs, good friends, and good guacamole.
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Sasee.com :: June 2021 :: 9
Waste Your Time by Gloria Mesa
When I was a child, my siblings and I always looked forward to the first day of summer. I’m sure other kids did too, but probably not for the same reasons we did. Other kids looked forward to a day free from school, to sit home playing video games and watching TV, but we were weird kids who spent our school days holding our breath for the day we could head outside to draw on the driveway with chalk. But we weren’t making just any drawings, we wanted to recreate the Solar-system as “to scale” as possible on the large black canvas. Sure, it didn’t seem very fun from the outside, but we were passionate about our work, spending hours kneeling on the ground even as the sun came out and heated the asphalt until you could have probably used it to fry an egg. It was a cheesy hobby, it was weird and made sense to no one, but our mother always taught us to be proud of ourselves, and to respect our own interests even if other people told us it was weird. To be honest, when I look back it doesn’t make sense even to me. I can’t remember what it was like to be so passionate about something so simple, even willing to risk burns, or dehydration, as the sun beat down on our heads and turned our brown skin browner, but I almost envy my younger self. These days when I sit in the sun, the smell of early summer makes me nostalgic, almost sad. Whenever the weather is perfect, anxiety always comes to visit like an old friend. A day this perfect shouldn’t be wasted, I should be working. I try to push those thoughts out of my head and remember the importance of relaxation and self-care, but I miss the days when I was so carefree and could waste hours drawing planets on a driveway without worries tormenting me about the future. Recently, I try to make an effort to take time away from my work and “waste time.” I set aside thoughts of the future and try to do something I enjoy. When that isn’t 10 :: Sasee.com :: June 2021
possible, I force myself to do nothing at all, pushing away concerns and trying to quiet my anxiety, I remind myself that learning to take a break will help my future just as much as working will. Both are necessary. Life is about balance. As an adult, we are so worried about the future that relaxing seems impossible. There are people like me who can’t even stand the idea of a vacation, the thoughts fill us with anxiety, and worry, that if we don’t work now, we are somehow jeopardizing our future. On days like this, I try to breathe, calming my obsessivecompulsive mind with simple reminders. All the most successful people in the world stress the importance of self-care, but it’s something I need to work on. But I’ve learned a secret, one that works, even if it’s slowly. Every morning I write down my goals for the day and keep them somewhere I can see them easily. After every goal I achieve, I force myself to put my work to the side, pick something else up, go outside, read a book, it doesn’t matter, what’s important is that I “waste my time.” Sometimes I just sit down and try to think about when I was younger. These days my memories are all seeming to fade away, but some still stand out to me as vivid as if they were yesterday. They are the days I wish I could go back to. The summer days I remember from when small, back when I would spend an hour, a morning, a day, doing what I loved, just wasting my time, and never regretting it.
Gloria Mesa is a Black-Hispanic author and poet from Maryland, USA. She has been writing for more than three years.
Gigi & Chip Cox: Life at The Lakes by Sarah Elaine Hawkinson
Gigi and Chip met on the board of Habitat for Humanity in Lancaster County. Gigi, a retired music teacher from Lancaster, was the secretary, and Chip, an Air Force veteran from Florence, was the treasurer. They came as a delightful surprise to one another as both were widowed and did not think they would find that type of love again. After a year of friendship and discovering that they were both single, Gigi asked Chip to dance at the organization’s gala. Gigi smiled and said, “I had no idea where it would lead, but it’s turned out quite well.” Chip nodded, took Gigi’s hand, and replied, “And it was the best thing that could have happened to me. I feel so blessed.” The two love birds have been together for ten years, married for seven years, and members of The Lakes at Litchfield for a little over three years. When it came time for them to find a continued care community, they visited several in
South Carolina, but were not fond of any of those types of “facilities.” Both Gigi and Chip grew up vacationing on the Carolina coast and said that when they came to visit The Lakes at Litchfield, the decision to join the community was a “no brainer.” They live in a beautiful, spacious house and feel completely independent. Their favorite thing about living in the community is the deep and valued friendships they have made. One of their friends told them they moved into the community because they knew that if they were absent from dinner, someone would miss them, and Chip confirmed that it really is like that. He said, “We all look out for each other. We all feel like we are in the same boat and that’s something that really makes it worthwhile to get up every morning.” Gigi and Chip are busy bees and very active. Gigi laughed, “Oh, if Chip learns of an activity that The Lakes is offering, he thinks, oh yeah, we are signing up for that.” They both
begin their days with devotional and mindful meditation. They exercise regularly by taking walks in the community or at the beach. Chip even taught Gigi how to kayak. Gigi and a few other members started a book club and they have a decent size group that meets monthly. Instead of a dining room, the couple has a music room where Gigi plays the piano and Chip plays the guitar. They both enjoy being involved with The Lakes community as well as Georgetown County’s community. They are members at Belin Church and Brookgreen Gardens, and they love attending the Pawleys Island Festival of Music and Art. Within the last year, they have donated to 34 charities, but the philanthropies they feel most strongly about and contribute to the most are American Red Cross, Samaritan’s Purse, and All4Paws. This sweet couple is beyond excited for this summer. Before their marriage, Chip only had one child and one grandchild. Thanks to Gigi, he now has four children, nine grandchildren, two great-grandchildren, and some more on the way. Gigi’s side of the family has always had an annual beach trip, but due to the pandemic, they have not all seen
each other in “way too long.” For this past Christmas, Chip gifted Gigi a week-long rental of a beautiful beach house in North Litchfield that sleeps 22. Their entire blended family is coming in from all over, California, Texas, and even England. For Christmas, their family usually does a big gift exchange where they all bring a present and draw names. So this year, they are having Christmas in July to make up for last year. A big part of the vacation that the family treasures is cooking together. They do not go out to eat and instead, take turns being head chef and make meals that are full of love and yummy goodness. Gigi has kindly shared her favorite summertime pie which you can read below. It is traditionally made with peaches, but Gigi clarified that the dessert is also delicious with strawberries. It is not only tasty, but it is also a visually pleasing dish that her family “ooh’s and aah’s” over. We could all learn a thing or two from Chip and Gigi, but most importantly, they show us that it is never too late to live in your dream home or community and that it is certainly never too late to find true love.
Holman House Peach Pie Ingredients: 1 cup flour ½ cup margarine ½ cup chopped pecans 10 oz 7Up soda 1 cup sugar 4 tbsp cornstarch 2 tbsp peach Jell-O (or strawberry) 8oz cream cheese (softened) 1 cup powdered sugar 8oz cool whip 3-4 sliced peaches (or several strawberries) Instructions: Mix flour, margarine, and pecans together and press crust in a pie pan Bake for 10 minutes at 350 degrees, let crust cool Mix 7UP, sugar, cornstarch, and Jell-O together, cook 5 minutes or until thick, let glaze cool Mix cream cheese, powdered sugar, and cool whip, put on top of the crust in the pie pan Mix peaches with glaze, put on top of the cheese mixture Refrigerate until ready to serve
Sasee.com :: June 2021 :: 13
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Vacation Ups and Downs by Jeffery Cohen
Some years ago, my wife and I wanted to leave the comfort and security of home and take a summer vacation to a place foreign and exotic. We chose Mexico. A different language, food, culture. Off we flew to Acapulco.
afraid of heights at all. It was falling from heights that scared me. Securely strapped into a harness, floating beneath a parachute with no possibility of falling, I had no fear at all. I flew like an eagle.
We spent days soaking up the sun on a beach surrounded by swaying palms, shopping in quaint marketas, and listening to more Mariachi bands than we cared to remember. Nearing weeks end, we decided to do one adventurous thing before leaving. Something we’d always dreamed of. Something we would always remember.
The next day it was my turn to choose something I’d always dreamed of. Scuba diving. We found a brochure that advertised half-day scuba diving trips. It promised an hour of scuba training, an hour of practice in a swimming pool, then an actual ocean dive. I booked it. As we soon discovered, the laws of false advertising aren’t exactly as stringent in Mexico as they are in the states. I anxiously sat, waiting for the hour of scuba training. An old codger shuffled into the room, peeked out from under a sombrero, and mumbled, “These. Air tanks,” he grunted. “This. The mouthpiece and mask. Those. Fins for the feet. So, to the boat.”
“Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve wanted to fly like an eagle,” my wife whispered, after days of watching vacationers being catapulted from the ground by a boat-tugged line that lifted their parachute-equipped bodies high in the air. “I want to go parasailing!” The next day, we signed my wife up. As she was strapped into the leather harness that would take her into the clouds, she held her head high, threw back her shoulders, looked up into the blue with determination, and screamed, “I can’t do it!” “What do you mean? You said you wanted to fly like an eagle.” “I can’t. I’m too scared.” “Don’t be silly. It’s nothing. It’s safe. It’s fun. You’ll be just fine,” I assured her. “Then you do it.” Me do it? I thought to myself. I’m deathly afraid of heights. I get dizzy at the top of a step ladder. But there she was, challenging my manhood in the land of machismo, in front of a crew of Mexican men waiting for my answer. “Strap me in,” I bravely, and foolishly replied. As they did, my heart started to pound. Sweat poured down my face when the tow line from a waiting boat was attached to my harness. I could barely breathe when they signaled the boat to take off. As it revved its engines and began to cut through the waves, up I went. In seconds, I was flying! Only then did I realize that I wasn’t 16 :: Sasee.com :: June 2021
As he began to lead us out, I said, “What about the hour of practice in the pool?” “Pool?” he said, raising one eyebrow. “The pool, she is broken. No pool. We go to the boat.” Eight of us followed obediently. As the waiting boat pulled away from the dock, he removed his sombrero and replaced it with a captain’s hat. While he explained that we would be diving in twos, with a trained guide accompanying each pair of divers, a young man next to me tapped me on the shoulder. “Ever dove before?” he asked. I explained that it was something I’d always wanted to do since I was a kid when I used to watch Lloyd Bridges on the TV show, Sea Hunt. He explained that he was trained in scuba and had over a hundred hours of experience. This was the guy I wanted as a partner. After a thirty-minute boat ride, we dropped anchor. We were strapped into our gear and told that our tanks had thirty minutes worth of oxygen. When that thirty minutes neared its end, we would feel short of breath. At that point, we were to alert our guide by dragging our index finger across our throat. The guide would then open a valve on our tanks allowing us five more minutes of air so that we could surface safely. With that, the old man threw away the cigar stump he’d been chewing on and said, “Okay. Jump in.” He pointed to the water with his thumb.
“Just jump in?” I asked. “Jump in.” He grinned. So, I did, along with my new found buddy. As promised, a guide followed and led us down into the deep. I’d like to say that I enjoyed the undersea beauty - the fish, the sea creatures, but I was so nervous, all I remember seeing were the clouds of bubbles being spit out by my air tank. And then it happened. Ten minutes into the dive, I caught a flurry of movement from the corner of my eye. My diving friend began flailing his arms wildly, whipped off his mask, and bolted desperately toward the surface. I watched, helpless, as my guide turned to me, shrugged his shoulders, and signaled me to follow him as he continued his descent. Stunned, having just seen an experienced diver drown, I panicked and began to breathe twice the normal rate. In just minutes, I had used up all of my air. I felt as if someone had clamped their hand over my mouth and nose and I was suffocating. I frantically signaled the guide who turned the valve releasing my reserve air, then he motioned me to follow him down deeper. Was he kidding? I’d had my share of diving. I frantically paddled upward, running out of air just as I reached the surface. I climbed on board the boat expecting to find the drowned corpse of my diving partner. Instead, there he was, happily sipping a coke, shrugging off some sort of malfunction of his equipment and readying himself for another dive.
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“And you, senior. Another dive?” the old captain grinned. “Gracias, but no.” There was only one thing left to say...to the captain...to Mexico...to adventure. “Adios.”
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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Pam Dunn:
Not a Day Goes to Waste in a Lowcountry Backyard Escape by Sarah Elaine Hawkinson
As I arrived at Pam Dunn’s property, my jaw dropped with astonishment from the boundless colorful flowers and perfectly plotted greenery that went on as far as I could see. I was greeted in the courtyard by Mrs. Pam as she invited me into her interestingly shaped, beautiful home with a glass of fresh lemonade. I took note of the open and bright look as the inside features enormous windows allowing me to see every angle of the surrounding yard and the delightful view of the river. I was excited to see the rest of the home and grounds, but equally enthusiastic to learn about this southern gem who helped create this marvelous backyard escape. Pam was born in Florence but truly grew up in Georgetown County. Her family had a summer home in Pawleys Island on the creek where she enjoyed crabbing, fishing, swimming, and spending quality time on the dock with loved ones. Pam cherished her time on the beach and outside with nature. She expressed, “My upbringing created wonderful memories and I knew I never wanted to leave this area. I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else!” From a very young age, Pam became infatuated with music. Her Nana was very musically gifted and would always play the piano or the autoharp and sing for Pam and her siblings. Pam started playing the piano by ear and when they could afford a piano, her mother antiqued it in blue, and Pam would get up early before school and play all morning. Her love and inherited gift of music developed into playing strings as well. She exclaimed, “Music has taken me on the most interesting journey of meeting people, learning new skills, and growing. Music always offered a challenge to better myself, so I never wondered what to do next. The most important things in my life, in this order, are my faith, family, and friends, and then music.” Just like with music, Pam loved learning in every aspect of her being. She explained, “Whether I had a career in them or not, I earned my private pilot’s license, real estate license, insurance license, and my series 7 to be a financial planner, and that’s just a few of them.” Pam graduated from USC where she earned her Master’s in Corporate Public Relations in the Journalism school. She was hired
as a Director of Employee Relations with a subsidiary of Dow Chemical Company and later worked in marketing and public relations. Unsurprisingly, she moved back to the Grand Strand and worked as a financial planner with a brokerage firm for over 15 years. She said it was a wonderful job and career because she was able to help others and felt it gave her purpose. Before, during, and after her career, Pam still finds purpose through her music. She enjoys taking her autoharp to nursing homes in the area and loves to tell stories through it. She also loves to play songs that are easy to sing and dance along with her. She feels that music is the perfect way that she can give back with the gift that was given to her and is so grateful to still have her Nana’s autoharp that she played for 65 years. Pam also plays the violin, bass fiddle, ukulele, and has quite a collection of antique and rare musical instruments. She performs with a chamber orchestra in Myrtle Beach and a theatre orchestra in Georgetown. They entertain audiences at various events and churches. She is a supporter of the Pawleys Island Festival of Music & Art (PIFMA) because she loves that the organization’s mission is to bring more music, arts, and culture into the community. She supports their annual events, has played with the orchestra for their parties, and has hosted their Culinary Symphony fundraiser a few times in her and her husband’s magnificent home. Pam met Levon on a blind date set up by a mutual friend and the two southern love birds married a year later. They have three very active children, two daughters and a son. Their son, the youngest, owns a large aviation company. Their middle child entered the Navy after graduating from Clemson and today, she leads the community outreach ministry for her church in Virginia. Their oldest daughter is a regional vice president with one of the largest home health agencies. Pam and Levon also have plenty of lovely grandchildren who all stay together in their guest house and adore visiting the property. Pam smiled and said, “And they all know how to fish. I have taught them how to put their own crickets on and how to take the fish off the hook. They think it’s just the most fun to catch, cook, and then eat the fish they have caught.” The greatest part of the Dunn’s property is that they have so Sasee.com :: June 2021 :: 21
much fun and so much to do without ever having to leave, thanks to all their hard work. The land was purchased in 1982 and at the time, it was all trees and river. The myriad of azaleas and crepe myrtles were soon planted, and the camellias and irises came after, making for quite a pretty show this time of year. Pam’s husband has a creative mind and designed all of the greenery, walkways, gazebos, and docks while Pam’s focus was on the inside of the home. Levon’s ultimate goal was to have something blooming all year round. About 5 years ago, they hired a landscape architect to design the Charleston gardens which included a large fountain in the center. Although Pam ruled the remodeling of the home, she also loves to garden. She has an herb garden and a huge vegetable garden during the summer. She also has an impressive, year-round citrus orchard full of kumquats, satsuma oranges, blueberries, several types of lemons, and a fig tree. She recently planted trees that she hopes will grow pomegranates, avocados, Hawaiian guava, and pink grapefruit. The grandchildren stay entertained with scavenger hunts, riding the golf carts, visiting Pam’s citrus garden, and picking the fruit. Outside of fishing and kayaking, the family also takes the boat out on adventures. The Dunn’s have traveled to Hilton Head, Charleston, and Beaufort, and have spent many weekends there. They have a Pontoon boat so that they can fit more family on it for their sunny excursions. They have a unique outdoor patio that is the perfect area for grilling out, oyster roasts, and s’mores over their massive fire pit. Pam also enjoys reading on the upstairs porch or spending time out on the swing down by the river. “Watching the sun rise and set over the water plants something in your soul that you never get over,” declared Pam. Her entire family never had a desire to be anywhere else other than the Grand Strand. Pam’s mother and siblings all live within 40 miles of their residence. For Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, and to celebrate every family event, they all gather together on the property and bring covered dishes. Pam believes that spending quality time together with family is really the most important thing they can do for one another. Their grandmother lived to the age of 101 and even at 100 years old, she was still playing the piano at nursing homes. At the age of 96, Pam’s mother, Mary Shaw, is still actively playing bridge and running her bed and breakfast, The Shaw House, in Georgetown. I’m convinced that Pam’s family has found the key to staying young and living longer, and it’s to truly live; to spend quality time together laughing, dancing, singing, and soaking up all of the love and nature that surrounds us in the summer daze and every day.
The Shaw House is a charming bed and breakfast located near downtown Georgetown. The house overlooks the marsh and is overflowing with antiques and southern hospitality. It is owned and operated by Pam’s mother, Mary Shaw, who has graciously given us her famous Grits Casserole recipe.
The Shaw House Grits Casserole Recipe (time: 30 min, serves: 12)
Ingredients: 1 cup raw grits 4 cups water 1 tsp salt 1 stick butter 1 Ib sausage (I like Jimmy Deans Hot) 4 eggs 1 cup milk 1 box Jiffy cornbread mix 1 ½ cups shredded cheddar cheese Steps: Add 1 cup raw grits to 4 cups of boiling water Add 1 tsp salt and 1 stick of butter to grits and let it simmer for 15-20 minutes Cool the grits after cooking, pour them into your 13” x 9” casserole dish and prepare the rest Cook 1Ib sausage and drain Beat 4 eggs with 1 cup of milk, add Jiffy cornbread mix, stir, add sausage, stir Pour this over the grits in the casserole dish and stir it all together Top with cheese Bake at 325 degrees for 30 minutes “The family flipped over this but decided that it would be extremely good paired with pancakes or waffles – something sweet to balance it all out. Enjoy!” -The Shaw Family
What I Did on my Summer Vacation by Georgia A. Hubley
I was my dad’s namesake. He was George and I was Georgia. He called me, “Georgie Girl.” Dad and I had a lot in common. I’m grateful he encouraged me to become a writer. It all began when I was eight years old… School was out for the summer and I received an “A+” for penmanship on my year-end report card. During that school year after I finished my regular homework, Dad encouraged me to practice writing in cursive for extra credit. While Dad looked at my report card, he beamed with pride, then gave me a high five, “Good job, Georgie Girl. All that extra work paid off.” Since Dad was an avid letter writer, he insisted I join him after breakfast and write letters. Dad’s letters were mostly written to the Letters to the Editor sections of local newspapers. He didn’t intentionally write to ruffle anyone’s feathers, but not everyone shared Dad’s unique perspectives on important issues – which editors relished. However, my eight-year-old mindset wasn’t to write letters on the first day of summer vacation, but Mother Nature foiled my plans. A thunderstorm rolled in and Dad got my undivided attention. He taught me how to write a letter to my favorite aunt and how to submit an illustrated story to the Kid’s Activity Page editor at the Columbus Dispatch newspaper, which featured drawings, riddles, jokes, stories, and poems. When the storm subsided, I followed Dad to his rolltop desk where he kept postage stamps under lock and key. “Stamps are valuable and can’t be wasted,” he cautioned, handing me two stamps to lick and adhere to my envelopes. Then we sprinted the 250 yards to the mailbox mounted on a post at the end of our long driveway. “May I write more letters tomorrow?” I asked, as I placed the letters in the mailbox and lifted the red metal flag to signify there was mail to be picked up. 24 :: Sasee.com :: June 2021
“Of course,” he said. “Tomorrow, I’ll give you two more stamps.” The following morning, I was surprised to find three envelopes already affixed with stamps awaiting me on the kitchen table. After breakfast, I wrote letters to three cousins. Since Dad was busy with farm chores, I walked to the mailbox by myself. On the trek back, my mind swirled with thoughts and ideas for stories, poems, and illustrations for the Kid’s Activity Page editor. Also, since postage stamps were off-limits…why not save money and make my own postage stamps? It was easy to craft a dozen postage stamps resembling people from the pages of the Sears and Roebuck catalog, and all it took was a dab of glue to attach them to the envelopes. If I hurried, I could make it to the mailbox before the mailman delivered the mail. When I returned from the mailbox, I joined Dad for lunch on the front porch. Suddenly, our lunch was interrupted by the mailman racing his Jeep up the driveway. “What’s your hurry?” Dad shouted as we approached the vehicle. The mailman revved his engine, handed Dad the familiar twelve envelopes, then glared at me, “Young lady, you can be arrested for making fake stamps.” I buried my face in the crook of Dad’s arm and sobbed. “It seems you owe the mailman an apology,” Dad said. Through tears and hurried gulps for air, I apologized and promised I’d stop making fake postage stamps. As we watched the Jeep disappear from sight, I braced myself for a sound scolding from Dad. I was certain I wouldn’t be allowed to write, ever again.
Instead, Dad tousled my hair and handed me the envelopes, “Those were some mighty clever stamps you made,” he chuckled, “From this day forward, please ask me for stamps, okay?”
Let the Good Times Roll!
After we finished lunch, I opened those twelve envelopes I’d intended for the Kid’s Activity Page Editor, cousins, and classmates and handed what I’d written to Dad. How elated I was by his response when he finished reading my twelve short stories, “You’re pretty good at this writing stuff. Keep it up.” Long after I was launched into adulthood and left the nest, Dad always took great pleasure in telling people about my life of crime being short-lived as a counterfeiter and how it attributed to my success. Then he’d laugh uproariously, “One day she’ll write about it.” Indeed. Dad was right.
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Georgia A. Hubley Georgia A. Hubley retired after 20 years from the money world in Silicon Valley to write about her world. Her stories and essays appear in various anthologies and magazines. After two sons were launched into adulthood and the nest was empty, Georgia and her husband relocated to the Nevada desert.
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The Motion of the Ocean by Diane DeVaughn Stokes
I moved to Myrtle Beach thirty-seven years ago because I fell in love with the area when I visited while in high school. The smell of the ocean enlivens me. But the motion of the ocean is another thing entirely. And in this case, I’m NOT talking about the beautiful gray-blue Atlantic. Ever since I can recall, I have been burdened with motion sickness. My mom will gladly recant how many times I threw up in her lap while riding in a car. My uncle Rich will tell you about the time I threw up in his favorite hat which was in the backseat with me at the time. My grandfather would always giggle as he told me how I lost my lunch on the Ferris wheel with him at Olympic Park. And my new dad would never crack a smile one single bit as he told his friends how many times I christened his new car. Yes, NEW dad. He liked to say that I puked due to the way I felt about him marrying my mom when I was eight years old. And even though he was right about that, as I was not very pleased, I grew to adore him as the best dad in the world. Yes, I have lost my cookies not only in cars but also in trains, boats, and planes. One time in church as we bowed our heads and closed our eyes to pray, I fell over. It was then that mom and I realized my equilibrium was screwed up. She and dad assured me that I would outgrow this, but from then on, I never closed my eyes to pray ever again unless I was sitting down. As the years went on, I learned to fish. I was among the first class of women to be in the Pee Dee Bass Masters Club. As you may have guessed, all was well until the waters became rough, and then I was feeding the fish more than just jelly worms. Then I learned to water ski slalom style, but jumping the wakes made me sick for the rest of the day every single time. So, what was I thinking going on a honeymoon cruise with Chuck???? Everyone said that big boats have less rocking so I should be fine. Wrong! Just a few years ago while working at a local radio station I hosted a cruise to Bermuda hoping I would be 28 :: Sasee.com :: June 2021
okay, but I never got my sea-legs. No matter how good the deal is, no more cruises for me. Twenty-five years ago, Chuck and I took up Scuba Diving. I was told that Dramamine, Bonine, or the new medical patches would keep me in check. Eat saltines, take ginger tablets, watch the horizon was all given as advice. I was hesitant because of my crazy issues with motion sickness but the course instructor said getting to the location may be difficult for me, but once getting in the water I would equalize and regain balance. Trust me, friends, you have never truly thrown up till you are underwater with a regulator in your mouth that you can’t remove. TMI? (too much information?). Sorry. Just the facts, Jack. Yet, we still go once a year to a great destination so he can pretend to be Jacques Cousteau as I become Jacqueline Bisset from the movie, The Deep. You know the one where she is in that sexy low-cut swimsuit. What a silly charade we play with each other! Bet the “Motion of the Ocean” never bothered Jackie! Motion Sickness has interfered in my career as well. I was once brave enough to venture out with Captain Dick’s Marina for a TV interview about deep-sea fishing. The Captain promised me that since it was a lovely day, the waters would be calm. Forget about it! I was sicker than I have ever been in my whole life. By the time I got back to hallowed ground, I could not stand up or walk without assistance from my husband. He had to drive me to the TV station the next day for work, as I could not drive and barely got through my live show before he drove me to the doctor for some medical help. It took three days and medication before I did not appear drunk to on-lookers and finally felt normal again. One week later I did the Captain Dick’s interview on land in front of the boat without sharing with the viewers about my dreaded experience. Usually, I am incredibly honest but did not want to scare away future deep-sea fishing customers. So even though I used to sell boats in college, I am not a boating fan for all the obvious reasons.
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And the saddest part of this horrific reflux is that I was once offered a chance to fly with the United States Thunderbirds during the Sun Fun Festival for a feature story for my TV station but knew that it was here that I had to draw the line. Flying upside down and puking on those handsome young pilots at 4 G’s would have been the embarrassment of a lifetime? Are you kidding me? No way, Jose. So even today, I still get carsick if I don’t sit in the front seat and continuously watch where I am going. Can’t read a book as Chuck drives. However, I am still hoping and praying that this too shall pass. Mom and dad said I will outgrow it and since they have been right about everything else they ever told me, I’m sure it will happen soon before my time on earth is done!
Diane DeVaughn Stokes is the co-owner of Stages Video Productions in Myrtle Beach and the Host and Producer of “Inside Out” on HTC channel 4. She and her husband Chuck share passions for their three four-legged kids, theater, travel, and scuba diving. Diane is the author of “Floating on Air- A Broadcasting Love Affair” about her many years in Radio and Television.
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Speech Solutions Inc.
Meeting the Speech and Language Needs of Our Community Since 2003 We assess, diagnosis and treat our patients to help improve their speech, language, cognitive, communication, voice, swallowing, fluency and other speech disorders We also have the equipment and certified Speech-Langugage Pathologists to provide Vital Stem Therapy. Nationally Accredited and State Licensed
Make memories and safely bring home your catch on your private fishing trip.
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Speech Solutions, Inc. is owned by Allison Harrington M.Ed., CCC-SLP “The mission of Speech Solutions, Inc. is to provide speech and language needs with integrity and accountability in the communities we serve, to give back through community service and to inspire moments of optimism and happiness while creating value and making a difference.”
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Owned by Allison Harrington and Daniel Walters Captained by Danny Cox (910) 733-2608 contactlaidbackcharters@gmail.com Sasee.com :: June 2021 :: 31
–Sasee Reads!– The Silent Patient by Alex Michaelides The Silent Patient is a deep mystery of murder, love, and retaliation. It is a shocking psychological thriller of a woman’s act of violence against her husband–and of the therapist obsessed with uncovering her motive. This fast-paced story will keep you intrigued from the beginning. This book has a big plot twist that makes you want to read more psychological thrillers. It takes a mastermind to pull off such a mindblowing twist. I could have never imagined the ending as it was very unexpected. Alicia Berenson is a very successful painter who is found guilty of shooting her husband. This leads her to be thrown into a psychiatric facility. Since this horrifying event, Alicia doesn’t speak a word of what happened. This results in her case being dismissed and she is found guilty of the murder. Why would Alicia murder her husband in cold blood and choose to not speak about her actions? This is the main mystery that has to be solved. The author of the novel wrote this story in such a way that it makes the reader more curious with every passing chapter.
Educated: A Memoir by Tara Westover Born to survivalists in the mountains of Idaho, Tara Westover was seventeen the first time she set foot in a classroom. Her family was so isolated from mainstream society that there was no one to ensure the children received an education, and no one to intervene when one of Tara’s older brothers became violent. When another brother got himself into college, Tara decided to try a new kind of life. Her quest for knowledge transformed her, taking her over oceans and across continents, to Harvard and Cambridge University. Only then would she wonder if she’d traveled too far, if there was still a way home. Educated was a whirlwind of emotions to read. At one point you could be crying and at the next, you could be screaming at the book. There were so many unexpected events that happened to Tara and her family. You could never imagine that these sorts of things happen to people. Tara provides entries from her personal journals, which really makes the reader feel as if they were there when she wrote it. Tara also provides very detailed accounts of all the events that happened to her.
Freddie & Me by Tripp Bowden Freddie & Me is a heartwarming tale of two unlikely friends and their uncommon bond forged through sport. If you need a wonderful gift idea for an avid golfer, this would be an awesome book to gift. Though he was born and raised in Augusta, Georgia, Tripp Bowden was too young and too removed from the game of golf to realize what Augusta National really meant to his town, the world, and the sport. But all that changed once Bowden’s father, a renowned local doctor, introduced him to one of his patients, Freddie Bennett, the legendary Augusta National caddie master. Though Bowden was a white child of considerable privilege and Bennett was an older black gentleman of more modest means, the two formed an unusual bond. It was Freddie who introduced Bowden to the game of golf, a sport that would one day earn him a Division 1 golf scholarship and lead him to the final stage of a British Open qualifier. But it was the lessons Freddie taught Bowden off the course that had their most profound impact on his life. Through Freddie and his particular brand of homespun wisdom, the author learned invaluable lessons about personal responsibility, hard work, and respect for others regardless of age, race, or religion. He also learned that there is much more to life than just playing golf. 32 :: Sasee.com :: June 2021
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Where I’m Supposed to Be by Rose Ann Sinay
Today, with a GPS in the car and on the phone, getting lost has become, well, a lost art. It can’t even be used as an excuse for being late. When was the last time you heard someone say: Sorry, I got lost, and it took me forever to find the place? I have no sense of direction. And, although family and friends have seen this as an annoying flaw, I have always thought of it as a chance for a new experience. A missed exit off the highway is an opportunity to explore a town I’ve never visited, uncover interesting shops and restaurants, or find fresh eggs and bottled honeycomb at a roadside stand. As much as I appreciate and need the directional technology, I miss those unexpected discoveries and the need to stop at gas stations every other block to find my way home. When my children were young, we referred to my ‘misdirections’ as adventures (a convenient cover-up when they spilled the beans that mom got lost, again). I always added time to the clock when we had to be at a (new) doctor’s appointment or at a birthday party in an area I wasn’t familiar with. Those stops at gas stations for directions became normal occurrences and a great place to pick up wrapped beef sticks, Twinkies, and other adventure snacks. Bribes? Maybe. Our outings began to disappear when getting to a friend’s house or an after-school activity became more important than unexpected cow sightings. Once we got the Tom-Tom navigation system for the car, there was no going back. I missed my quirky delights, but change was good, too. By the time the kids left home, getting lost for the fun of it was a thing of the past. *** When my husband had to travel to Ireland for work, I was excited to go with him. Who doesn’t have (or want) a wee bit of Irish in their ancestral tree? My husband would work most of the week, but we added a few days to the end of the trip as vacation. On the days that he 36 :: Sasee.com :: June 2021
worked, I would be left to my own devices. I had no plan and no timeline; it couldn’t be more perfect. On that first day as a wandering spirit, I passed many pubs before finding a café for coffee and breakfast pastry. I shamelessly listened to customers’ conversations, rolling their words over my tongue trying out the accent. My friendly server provided a list of her favorite shops, restaurants, and points of interest. Unfortunately, between her accent and the reference to roundabouts, I knew I was on my own. After all these years, the old excitement of discovery re-ignited. I was ready to lose myself in the moment. I took a bus into Cork City and got off at a random spot. The architecture, the bridges, the Old English Market, the people–I wallowed in the history of Ireland. I had no idea how far I was from the hotel, nor did I care. Every shop was a treasure trove. I stopped in a jewelry store and watched as an artisan created a Celtic knot just for me. He slipped the interlocking arcs on a chain and fastened it around my neck. It made the Irish part of me feel right at home. I wandered through galleries and splurged on a piece of pottery. I ogled the goods at the Old English Market and chatted with the vendors. Their stories were committed to my memory for the retelling. I threw a coin into the water as I crossed over a bridge to mark that I had been there. When the sky began to darken, I realized I needed to get back to the hotel. I asked for directions in the cozy old bookshop, my last stop. After jotting down a series of rights and lefts on a slip of paper, I was happy to hear the Imperial Hotel was just a fifteen-minute walk. My feet were sore, but there was no way I would take the bus or taxi–not at the end of this perfect day. Soon the area began to look familiar. Evidently, I had made good time. I looked in the window of another bookstore–a familiar face looked back at me. It was
The Boating Life
Molly, the shop owner, who had just given me directions ten minutes earlier. Embarrassed, I waved and quickened my step. Was it right at the corner, then left?
June 9 - 26, 2021
When, yet again, I came upon the same shop, I opened the door to ask for help. I was tired and hungry and had a husband who would be concerned if I wasn’t back in the room before him. Molly laughed when she saw me. “Have a seat. I can close up soon and I’ll give you a ride.” She fixed a tray with tea and cake and filled my ear with Irish lore.
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Molly dropped me off at the hotel just as my husband arrived. He noticed our chatty goodbye.
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“You must have gotten lost,” he laughed expecting a dramatic rehash of my adventures. “No, not lost at all,” I replied touching the silver knot at my neck. “I was exactly where I was supposed to be.”
Rose Ann Sinay is a freelance writer newly relocated to Connecticut. She continues to write about moments worth remembering, graciously provided by family and friends.
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Three Course Prix Fixe Menu June 16th • 6:00~8:00pm The Brentwood Restaurant & Wine Bistro 4269 Luck Ave., Little River, SC
$50 all-inclusive (Tax & Tips included) ON THE PATIO
CALL THE LONG BAY SYMPHONY OFFICE TO RESERVE SEATING:
843.448.8379
38 :: Sasee.com :: June 2021
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