May 2016
There’s no way to be a perfect mother and a million ways to be a good one. Jill Churchill
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Volume 15, Issue 5
May 2016
–Read It!–
who’s who Publisher Delores Blount
Sales & Marketing Director Susan Bryant
Editor
Leslie Moore
Account Executives Amanda Kennedy-Colie Erica Schneider Gay Stackhouse
Art Director
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Mother’s Day Favs
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38
22 Kid’s
Read It!
Graphic Artist Stephanie Holman
Photographer & Graphic Artist Aubrey Plum
Intern
Heather Combs
Web Developer Scott Konradt
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Featured A Transplant Donor Mom’s Story by Bobbie Buffkin . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8 Another Mammie Story by Melissa Face . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 14 Among Family by Diane Stark . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 18 Becoming My Mother by Linda O’Connell . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 30 Autumn’s Rain by Lola Di Biulio De Maci . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 34 Dancin’ Queen by Beth Pugh . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 36 Family Recipes by Rose Ann Sinay . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 40 Cheap Gifts and Love by Janey Womeldorf . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 42 Being Open About Open Adoption by Katie Davis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 44
In This Issue
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Patrick Sullivan
Read It! . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10 Southern Snaps: Linda Trost: Blooming Where She Is Planted by Leslie Moore . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 12 Sasee Take A Look: Little River and Calabash . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 22 A Celebration of Caring: Cecelia Tackett by Leslie Moore . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 28 Mother’s Day Favorites . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 38 May Calender . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 46 Kid’s Read It! . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 48
Accounting Kristy Rollar
Administrative & Creative Coordinator Celia Wester
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 © 2016. 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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Pen & Brush readers’ comments RE: April Sasee
Love the new look! The glossy cover is gorgeous – Sasee just keeps getting better and better. -Zenobia
RE: “One Man Band,” by Alice Muschany Your story left me smiling, Alice. What a delightful wedding memory.
-Pat
RE: “An Anniversary Waltz,” by Jeffery Cohen
letter from the editor This Mother’s Day I will not be with either of my children. They both live too far away for frequent visits, but, we keep in touch and stay connected in a variety of ways. My favorite is my mobile phone -- it regularly makes a special sound that, without fail, brings a smile– it’s the one alerting me to an incoming Facetime call. Today, it was my son, who is more than 4,000 miles away. I see he’s added some European-looking clothing to his wardrobe, but he looks healthy and has a big smile on his face. One of his friends comes to the screen and says hello, and I get to see and hear the happy sounds of a group of young people making dinner together. After a few minutes of catching up, Cavin asks me for my salad dressing recipe, and we go over instructions before closing the call. Our 20 minute video chat has reduced the distance between us and given me much more insight into his life than a simple phone call. Other days, I answer the magical ring and the faces of my daughter and granddaughters pop up, who live much closer, but I still don’t see them nearly as often as I would like. At ages two and one, the girls are not always interested in talking to their grandmother, but I watch them play while my daughter and I chat, and I can actually see how much they’ve grown, hear them laugh and strain to understand their growing vocabularies. As my daughter talks about her children, I see the love on her face and am very proud of the mother my child has become. Nothing truly replaces face-to-face, in person visits, but my magic phone is the next best thing! Happy Mother’s Day to all of our Sasee mothers and grandmothers! We would love to see your holiday photos – please send them to lmoore@strandmedia.com, and your precious memories may end up on our Facebook page!
Jeffery, this was an absolutely delightful story which will remain in my heart for a long while.
-Linda
RE: “The Love Shack,” by Rose Ann Sinay
Beautiful story! Very much like ours. I share your enthusiasm for that wild and crazy time when we had a lot more energy and very little money! We had fun! And so did you!
-Elsa
Cover Artist
Vickie Wade
A Mother and Three Daughters, by Vickie Wade Vickie was born and raised in a country setting by a loving Christian family with her devoted artist grandmother living next door. By age 11, young Vickie was happily oil painting beside her. After marrying her prince, the artist became a nurse, had two terrific sons, and chose art over nursing so she could stay home with her little guys. And now, many years have flown by, most of them in the sunny land of southern rural Idaho. Her boys are now grown and there are three grandchildren Vickie loves to paint. She has taught hundreds of art classes, and is still passionate about her family and art! Each image reflects how she looks at life and how she communicates. When an idea strikes…often in the night…Vickie gets so excited and can’t stand it until that idea is on canvas! To see more of her work, visit the artist’s on-line art shop at www.etsy.com/shop/VickieWadeFineArt.
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A Transplant Donor Mom’s Story by Bobbie Buffkin
One Mother’s Day years ago, my daughter, Susan gave me the song “The Wind Beneath My Wings,” telling me that I had always shown her how to be strong through life’s ups and downs. This is a story I carry in my heart. Life is full of lessons, and one thing I have learned is that from tragedy comes strength. However, strength is elusive; when heartbreak takes hold of me I have to find that strength in order to beat the weakness I feel. When the situation involves the death of a loved one, finding the strength to go on takes a lot of courage. I was forced to look for help in dealing with our loss in order to find that strength -- either that or I would have succumbed to despair, hopelessness and an unhappy life. My story is about losing my daughter to a senseless crime, and how she gave the ultimate gift of life by donating her liver and both kidneys. It is also about how her donation saved my life by giving me the strength to go on. Losing a child is something no parent likes to think about. The reality is that it is a parent’s worst nightmare, and we all pray it will never happen to us. I lost Susan to a senseless crime on August 31, 2004. She was robbed and kidnapped, and while trying to escape from her assailant, she sustained severe head wounds, dying from brain death the next afternoon. Her assailant has never been caught. This is what I live with every day, and it is where my story of strength and courage begins. The days that followed her death were filled with shock and unbelievable hopelessness for me. I went through all the motions one does after such a loss, and I was slowly sinking into a deep, dark hole. I became
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obsessed with helping to find her killer, feeling there had to be justice for Susan. The police detectives on the case became very familiar with me! A month or so after Susan’s death, I received a letter from Translife, Central Florida’s Organ & Tissue Donation Service. All three of her recipients were doing well; anonymity for the recipients and donor is a must, but the letter did tell me they were all three male; they lived in Florida, and I learned about their interests and hobbies. I read and reread this letter, and a door opened for me. I immediately contacted Translife’s family coordinator. She told me there were many opportunities at Translife for donor families to volunteer and become involved with activities designed to help the grieving process. I realized the road of grief I was traveling was not a healthy one; being focused on catching Susan’s assailant was not building the strength I needed to go on with my life. I knew I needed to find a positive avenue within this tragedy. If I could help others who had lost their loved ones, I knew that would help me in return. What I wanted to do was talk…I wanted to tell Susan’s story and emphasize the importance of her amazing legacy; her three recipients were now able to live normal, healthy lives. If not for her gifts, they would have died. I also wanted to share the strength and hope her gifts gave to me. By being an organ donor, she had given me the strength I needed to walk a healthy path of grief. If I could convey this feeling to other donor families, I felt it would help them with their grieving process. Through Translife I was invited to speak at many important events; I was interviewed by the media several times and wrote for a few publications.
I also spoke to donor and recipient groups. Susan’s son and I went to Kentucky, in 2006, to attend the U.S. Transplant Games which are sponsored by The National Kidney Foundation every two years. At these games recipients from every state compete in many athletic competitions, and donor families are recognized as well. It was an awesome experience! It was after meeting so many grateful and wonderful recipients at the games that I decided I wanted to meet Susan’s kidney recipient who had written to me through the guidelines (still anonymous) of Translife. I wrote to him with my wish, and he agreed that we should meet! Translife assisted us in arranging the meeting, and we met in August, 2006. I cannot explain the feeling I had when meeting Angelo and his family. There are no words worthy of describing it. We became good friends and still remain in touch. Twelve years ago, he would have died without Susan’s gift of her kidney. He has seen three grandsons born and lives a normal life. If one can comprehend a positive aspect to this tragedy, this is it. There are so many stories I could tell about the magnitude of Susan’s gift of life. Her story has helped so many people and has reached across the globe. I continue to volunteer through Lifepoint Organ/Tissue Donation Service here in South Carolina. I think of Susan every day, and there will always be a hole in my heart missing my daughter, but I am so proud of the legacy she left and the strength she gave to me.
Currently, nearly 124,000 men, women and children are awaiting organ transplants in the United States. An average of 21 people die each day because the organs they need are not donated in time. If you are not already a registered organ donor, please consider signing up. You can do this at your local DMV, on your Facebook Page, or go to donatelife.net for details. Remember, one person can save up to eight lives! Most important to my story, I have learned to love life again, and, by doing so, Susan’s love is still present to everyone around me. She is truly “The Wind Beneath My Wings.”
Bobbie Buffkin
is retired from the medical field and spent many years as a clinical supervisor for a large Cardiology group in Florida. Her public speaking on the subject of Organ Donation in both Florida and South Carolina has been extremely rewarding, along with media interviews and writing articles of strength and hope. Bobbie and her husband reside in North Myrtle Beach.
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–Read It!–
Nicole Says…Read
A Lowcountry Wedding by Mary Alice Monroe Review by Nicole McManus 10
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A few seasons have passed, and Harper has settled in as the new owner of Sea Breeze. However, with Carson due to return to the family home, her anxieties are high. Meanwhile, Dora is figuring out who she is, while dealing with the stress of being a single mother. Everyone is looking forward to reuniting with the wandering middle sister, especially since the family has two weddings to plan. Unfortunately, when a stranger with a secret is thrown into the mix, chaos and emotions erupt. Will Mamaw be able to comfort and reconnect her Summer Girls, or will their bond be forever broken? Charleston, South Carolina, provides lovely, breathtaking scenery, perfect for the Muir ceremonies. From the very first page, smiling readers will be shocked as they are welcomed back to Sea Breeze with open arms. The beginning chapters provide a nice recap of the previous three stories for those who are new to Mary Alice Monroe’s Lowcountry Summer series. Readers will appreciate feeling like a member of the family, as they watch each character’s growth and confidence get shaken by unexpected news. Although
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there are a few repetitive phrases, readers will be swept up in the magic of Monroe’s writing. The story follows the same format with each chapter switching points-of-view, as well as focusing on the importance of protecting nature’s wildlife. This is a beautiful continuation of a delightful series. I was smiling throughout most of the story, and I had to physically stop myself from skipping forward, just to catch up with my favorite of the sisters. I could relate to all the new twists and turns the Muir family had to endure. I hated to see the story end, but I do hope that we will get to see more of the Summer Girls in future work.
Nicole McManus
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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Linda Trost
Blooming Where She is Planted
By Leslie Moore
If not for the large cheerful sign on Hwy 90 in Little River, I may have missed Current Transitions, a learning center for adults with developmental delays. But, once I went inside and met Linda Trost, founder and director of Current Transitions, I learned what a huge impact this small learning center has on the lives of its students. Current Transitions serves approximately 25 students, ages, 21-59, and teaches a variety of subjects focusing on life skills, including money management, communication and daily living skills, nutrition and cooking and more, including a fantastic art therapy program that has turned into a business for the students and a fundraiser for the non-profit learning center. Everyone at this cheerful, happy place is a volunteer, donating their time and talents to help. “This is truly work from the heart,” Linda told me.
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“I’m not a local, but I think I am now!” Linda began when I asked about her life. “My husband and I grew up on the opposite coast, Oceanside, California. We went through school together and were married after high school. We’re going on our 35th year of marriage,” she added with a smile. “Family brought us to the area. Before Dion retired, his brother, Mike, and his wife, Susie, who were realtors at the time, found us a summer home that turned into a bigger, permanent home. We are so happy and love our beach home!”
While Linda’s three children were growing up, her husband, Dion, worked in Angola, Africa, for a major oil company. He rotated 28 days on and 28 off. It was tough on the young family, but Linda and Dion joke that so much time apart may be the reason they have stayed happily married. Linda was always active in her children’s schools, volunteering her time to manage and develop recreational programs, like summer camps and sports programs. During an interview for a job with a recreation department, the director asked her if she would be willing to work with special needs students. After thinking it over, Linda agreed to try. “I was given an opportunity to try something new, out of my scope of experience, and found I loved it. I never looked back. My students in Texas still call me –they never leave you.” The program Linda managed in Texas used a specialized, very expensive curriculum for special needs students, and Linda bought this same program for Current Transitions. “When I moved to North Myrtle Beach, I thought I would lie on the beach every day and read all the books that had been piling up. It was fun for a short time, but I missed working, and I especially missed my students.” Linda first worked with a group in North Myrtle Beach called ARC, but one day she drove by a building in Little River, and the idea for Current Transitions was born. “I called my husband and told him I was renting this building. He thought I was nuts, but soon we applied for our 501 (c) (3) and were on our way!”
making tags and quality checking finished pieces. After paying for materials, the money raised from sales is divided between the students and the learning center. In addition to the wonderful art therapy program, there is a science program run by a retired chemist, “Stan the Science Man.” Recently, Stan taught all the students how to operate a fire extinguisher. He started a small fire and had each one actually put it out, using a standard fire extinguisher. “Stan also teaches the students how to garden, and we have a big salsa party in the late summer,” Linda told me with pride. Other volunteers include a speech therapist and an occupational therapist.
Dion did all the work converting the building into a learning center, along with the entire family, including Linda’s mom, who is in her 80s. When the work was nearly complete, Linda got busy rallying community support. “Everyone I talked to about Current Transitions was enthusiastic in their support, and we received a grant from the Disabilities Council in Columbia.” The non-profit’s main fundraiser is an annual golf tournament, held on June 11th this year, and Dion’s buddies from overseas come from around the world to play golf and support the learning center. “People across the globe have found our little program and support us. It gives me goosebumps to think that so many people are supporting my idea, my dream,” Linda told me with tears in her eyes. “We decided early on not to charge the students and not to turn anyone away,” Linda began, “but we have to have enough volunteers to cover everyone. It’s been five years since we opened, and we have a wonderful, reliable group of volunteers that show up and give their time each week. They are the core of our program.” Students must be diagnosed with a disability, but Linda will accept all levels of ability, even though this sometimes presents a challenge to meet everyone’s needs. “Some of our students can’t read at all, and some are reading big novels. We have a wide range of functioning abilities – you notice I said abilities, not disabilities. We focus on what the students can do, not what they can’t.” Linda told us one of her favorite success stories. “My oldest student, Alex, is 59. He was working for Goodwill and is a big joker. He carried a joke a little too far at work without realizing it and lost his job, got behind on his bills and his car was falling apart. Our landlord here gave him a job at his storage business, and he is doing so well now. Alex lives with his aunt, but is very independent.” With the help of his classes at Current Transitions, Alex has also learned better communication skills to use on the job.
Linda explained that there are a wide variety of classes, including reading, science, math, language skills and games designed to teach. The learning center has a small bus, but is still looking for a volunteer driver. For now, Linda drives the bus when the students go on field trips. “We take the students into the community to use the skills they learn in the classroom. All of these programs come from the award-winning James Stanfield program I purchased to start the learning center.” I asked Linda how she takes care of herself. “I love to play tennis and play three to four times a week at Grande Dunes –I belong to three leagues. One of my leagues is going to the state championships!” Linda and Dion also love to travel and take long weekend jaunts whenever possible. Their three children are grown – two sons live in the area, and their daughter, son-in-law and grandson, Charlie, live in California. A new grandchild is expected toward the end of the year. “Current Transitions is a dream for me. I’ve had so much experience in the field, and I wasn’t ready to retire. It has planted my feet in the sand, so to speak. I drive to the center each day looking forward to seeing those smiling faces. I am making a difference in my community, and that’s a good thing!” Current Transitions is located at 414 Hwy 90 E in Little River. To learn more or volunteer, call Linda at 661-301-1392. You may also visit their Facebook page to see more photos of the students’ beautiful artwork. The organization is currently in need of a good, used van – let them know if you have one to donate. All donations are tax deductible!
Current Transitions operates three days a week, three hours a day, and on Thursdays there is an extended art program. Kathy Mcintire, volunteer art therapy teacher, moved to the area from Ohio, and was, by chance, put in touch with Linda when she was looking for services for her daughter. Kathy, an artist who owned a studio in Ohio, has worked extensively with disabled individuals, and believes everyone can do art. Her dedication to the art program at Current Transitions has had incredible results. Kathy started out teaching art basics, all in line with Linda’s curriculum, and when the students liked a project, she would expand upon it. A project making colorful fish was posted on Facebook and the comments exploded. People were clamoring to buy the cute and colorful fish and fused glass pieces. Today, the North Myrtle Beach Museum and Innovations at Barefoot Landing sell the artwork. The day Sasee visited, two students were working on the project,
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Another Mammie Story by Melissa Face
It’s 8 pm, and I am driving a few miles to my grandmother’s house for a visit. For some, this is probably an unusual time to go see a grandparent, but for us it works perfectly. We are both night owls who love evening coffee, late night talk shows and, of course, a little story telling.
“Do you remember the time we were driving together and we talked about everything we would buy if we won the lottery?” I ask her.
My grandmother, Mammie, is 81. She still lives on her own and aside from no longer driving, she is fiercely independent.
Then the conversation diverts to hunky movie stars, and she tells me about James Garner.
“You like my haircut?” she asks.
“He was a real looker,” she says. “You should have seen him in that movie with Doris Day. What was it called?”
“I do,” I answer. “Where did you get it done?” “I did it myself,” she replies. “It was getting too long, so I whacked the hell out of it!” We both laugh and try not to spit out our coffee. It is definitely one of her shorter styles, but it looks good on her. “You’ve let yours get long,” she comments. “I like it.” Then she reminds me not to wait too long before changing it up.
I tell her I have no idea, and I Google the actors’ names on my phone. “Move Over… Move Over, Darling?” I ask. “That’s it! It’s a really cute movie. You should watch it sometime. He thinks that his wife is dead, so he moves on and marries someone else. But she’s not dead. It’s really cute. Just watch it.” Mammie offers to top off my coffee, but I realize that it’s 11:30 pm. It’s time for me to be heading home.
“I’ve had mine blonde, brown and black. I’ve even been a redhead,” she recalls. “Howard (her late husband) used to never know who he was going to come home to!”
“Already? That went by too fast.”
I listen intently and encourage her to go on. I want to hear her stories about being the wife of a truck driver and raising four children. I want to hear them, and it’s important for her to share them.
“You should write a story about me,” she says, as I walk down the steps.
“It wasn’t easy raising the kids with him being gone so much,” she says. “And it was hard to budget too. He would get paid, and we would eat well for the first part of the month, and then we’d get down to the last couple cans of soup at the end of the month.” “Tell me about some of your jobs,” I prompt. She explains that she often ran errands for my grandfather, helped with paperwork and worked as a secretary at the kids’ school for a while. And after my grandfather’s tragic death at a work site, she took on a full-time position. She obtained a job as a 911 dispatcher for the City of Suffolk. “I liked my dispatcher job, and I was good at it,” she continues. “I don’t mean that to sound boastful or prideful. I worked hard at it, and I got really good at it. It wasn’t easy, especially the hours.” I do remember her working odd shifts. I remember her falling asleep in a recliner before lunch, after dinner or sometimes even at one of my cousin’s birthday parties. We would ask our parents if Mammie was okay. They’d tell us she was fine. Just tired. Working midnights this week. There were positives to those crazy hours she worked though. Sometimes she was able to take me to the doctor when I was “sick” so that my mom could still go to work. We would go to the doctor, to lunch, to the mall and even for ice cream. And all the way there and back, she would tell me stories.
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“I do. That was fun. We had it all planned out,” she says.
I agree that it did, thank her for the coffee and give her a kiss on the cheek. I remind her that I have written several stories about her, more than I have written about my own children. “Write another one!” she laughs. “Write about how I used to shoot my gun out the window and make you laugh. Write about the time that your mom had to pull the car over on the way to Dover because we were making her laugh so hard she couldn’t drive.” “Good idea,” I say with a smile. “There’s always room for another Mammie story.” I drive home and enter my dark, quiet living room. I’m so sleepy, and I know I should go straight to bed. But I don’t. Instead, I turn on Netflix and search for a title. And I find it. James Garner and Doris Day in Move Over, Darling. I watch the entire movie and fall asleep happy and thankful. I’m grateful for another visit with my grandmother, another late night and another chance to share a story.
Melissa Face
lives in southeastern Virginia with her husband and two children. She teaches English, writes essays, and spends a little too much time on Facebook. Email Melissa at writermsface@yahoo.com.
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Among Family by Diane Stark
“Are we going to see Grandma and Grandpa this Christmas?” My then-fiveyear-old daughter, Julia, asked. “Yes, I’m going to drop you and Jordan off at their house, and Grandma can call me when you’re ready to be picked up.” She wrinkled her nose. “Why aren’t you going with us?” I sighed. Things were so complicated these days. I’d gotten remarried over the summer, and this was our first Christmas as a blended family. I was still trying to figure out my relationship with my former in-laws. “Well, Honey, when your dad and I split up, I promised Grandma and Grandpa that I’d make sure they still got to see you and your brother,” I said. “But Grandma and Grandpa are your dad’s parents, and now that your dad and I aren’t married anymore, I’m not really a part of their family.” But when I called my former mother-in-law, she disagreed. “We don’t want you to drop off the kids. We want to see all of you.” “That’s really nice, but I don’t want to leave Eric and his kids alone while we visit with you.” “No, we want to see all of you. Eric and his kids too.” “Really?” “Of course. We want to get to know your new family.” Very hesitantly, I asked Eric if he would mind visiting with my former in-laws over Christmas. “I know it might be awkward, but they are really wonderful people,” I said. He shrugged and said, “Why would it be awkward? They’re your kids’ grandparents.” “But they aren’t your kids’ grandparents. And it’s Christmas.” Eric shrugged again. “I’ll just explain to my kids that your kids will be
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getting presents from their grandparents, and they will get gifts from their grandparents later.” Eric’s children were old enough to understand, but I still worried that their feelings would be hurt. Turns out, I worried for nothing. When we got to my former in-laws’ house, Jeff and Cheryll could not have been more gracious. They welcomed Eric and his kids into their home as though they were part of the family. Cheryll looked through our wedding photo album and told me how happy she was that I’d found someone new to love. She and I had always been close, and my divorce from her son had been hard on all of us. Before I’d gotten remarried, the kids and I had frequently eaten dinner with her and Jeff. They’d included us in their family functions, and even helped me financially. The kids and I had spent the previous Christmas Eve with them. I’d been a single mom, struggling to pay the bills. I remember how worried I’d been that I wouldn’t be able to afford a nice Christmas for my kids. Jeff and Cheryll had purchased extra presents, wrapped them and given them to me to take home for the kids to open on Christmas morning. They’d been so good to me while I was single, but when I’d married Eric, I’d moved 150 miles away. I just wasn’t sure where our relationship stood now. But as the evening unfolded, it became obvious that nothing had changed. I’d gotten remarried, and in Jeff and Cheryll’s mind, that simply made their family a little bit larger. When it came time to open the gifts, Eric offered to remain in the kitchen with his children. Jeff shook his head. “We have gifts for all of the kids.”
I immediately teared up, but Jeff just shrugged. “Who wouldn’t want more grandchildren?” He asked. I turned to Eric and said, “I told you they were wonderful people.” Eric and I have been married for nine years now, and we still see Jeff and Cheryll several times each year. Every time we make the 150-mile trek to see my parents, we call Jeff and Cheryll to make plans to visit them as well. They still count Eric’s children, as well as the little boy Eric and I have had together, as bonus grandchildren. We spent this past Thanksgiving with Jeff’s side of the family. Jeff’s mom, who we’ve always called Grams, is in poor health, and the kids and I wanted to make sure we visited her while we had the chance. Jeff’s siblings and their spouses and children were there, and many of them had only met Eric once before. Not that it mattered. Grams hugged Eric and thanked him for bringing me to see her. “We were lucky that she was a part of our family for a while,” Grams told him. I fought tears as my new husband told her, “She’s still part of your family.” And when Grams began vehemently discussing politics with Eric, I knew he’d become part of the family too. The evening was full of jokes, laughter and lots of reminiscing. When someone told a story that happened before Eric and I got married, everyone just filled him in until he too was laughing.
And when it was time for us to leave, we joined hands and they prayed that we would have a safe trip home, and that God would bless us and bring us back to visit again soon. That visit was more than I ever could have hoped for. I was only biologically related to three people in the entire room – my three biological children – but there was no doubt in my mind that I was among family. To some people, my blended family is confusing, maybe even disjointed. I have one mom, two dads, two brothers, one sister, and four stepsisters, not to mention my wonderful husband and our five yours-mine-and-ours children. I have two mothers-in-law and two fathers-in-law, all of whom are more like moms and dads than in-laws. I’ve got aunts, uncles, cousins and one spunky Grams, none of whom are blood relatives, but they love me, and they love my kids. And we love them. In blended families – in all families, really – DNA doesn’t determine who our families are. Only love can do that.
Diane Stark
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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Sasee Takes A Look:
Little River & Calabash
This month, Sasee explores Little River, the oldest settlement in Horry County situated just below the North Carolina/South Carolina line and the charming village of Calabash, just over the North Carolina border. Little River Evidence of Native Americans harvesting oysters and clams, plus an abundance of fossils and arrowheads, show that these early Americans loved Little River’s seafood bounty as much as we all do today. Fresh, delicious seafood still draws thousands to the area.
This year will mark the 35th Annual Blue Crab Festival, held on May 14th and 15th. One of the largest events in the southeast, it is host to over 300 fine arts and craft vendors, specialty food vendors, live entertainment and lots of fun children’s activities.
The Colonial era found Little River a busy, bustling seaport village with thriving timber and naval businesses. Like Murrells Inlet, which bookends the southern end of Horry County, Little River was a favorite hiding spot for pirates like Stede Bonnet and Blackbeard. But, by the mid-1800s, this small town was a bustling, busy seaport.
Little River is also home to Current Transitions, a learning center for developmentally delayed adults. The students create beautiful art pieces that will be sold at this year’s event. Director Linda Trost loves her town, raving about the friendly people and places. One of her favorite eateries is International Café where she always orders the pickle soup! As unusual as it sounds, Linda assures us that it is amazing.
Today, Little River is known for its fresh seafood, fishing charters, annual blue crab festival and centuries-old live oak trees. The slower pace and laid back lifestyle makes this town a favorite for visitors and especially for those who call the town home.
Another Sasee favorite place to eat is Clark’s Seafood and Chophouse – the waterfront view is amazing. Also, Sasee shoppers love browsing in Sea Island Trading Co., a fun and unique boutique with great women’s styles and unusual home goods.
Calabash
Located just north of the South Carolina line, Calabash was originally known as Pea’s Landing. It wasn’t until a post office opened in 1883, that it became known as the Village of Calabash. In the 1930s two families, the Becks and the Colemans, began “fish camps” that were held outdoors, serving oysters, shrimp and fish with food that came straight from the docks. In 1940, both families moved the service indoors and added the famous fried style of seafood that is the signature of Calabash. Cooks use cornmeal instead of flour to bread the food, and it is delicious! Calabash became widely known throughout the United States when entertainer Jimmy Durante began closing his radio show with the words, “Goodnight Mrs. Calabash, wherever you are.” Mr. Durante and Lucy Coleman became friends when the popular entertainer visited her family restaurant. By the 1960s, other restaurants had opened to meet the demand of the many tourists who came to enjoy Calabash seafood. Today there is approximately one restaurant per ten permanent residents of the village. One of Sasee’s favorite places in Calabash is Sunset River Marketplace. Since opening its doors in 2002, Sunset River Marketplace, an art gallery owned by artist Ginny Lassiter, showcases only artists from the two Carolinas, and this eclectic spot boasts an amazing offering of clay art, oil paintings, watercolors, mixed media, pastels and acrylics, plus award-winning works in metal, wood, hand-blown glass, fiber and other media.
Sasee asked Ginny some of her Calabash favorites, “I love eating at Grapevine, but really I like going anywhere I don’t have to cook or do the dishes!” Of course, there’s no place Ginny would rather be than hanging out at Sunset River Marketplace, painting or just talking about art!
Sunset River Marketplace marketing director, Dariel Bendin, says, “I’m a sucker for the shrimp sandwich at Seafood Hut.” She also loves hanging out at Sunset River Marketplace, but you may find her haunting local antique and consignment stores!
Another favorite of the Sasee crew, The Boundary House Restaurant at Callahan’s shares some of the same virtues as the original Boundary House, a gathering place for travelers as early as the 1740s in Calabash. Sitting on the boundary line of two provinces in those days, The Boundary House was a stopping point for many English travelers and even a few settlers. It also was the place for many sermons, gatherings and even a famous duel involving the governor of North Carolina. While it faded from existence in the early 20th century, the present day Boundary House still serves the same delicious Calabash seafood, but has added many other options for diners. Be sure to take time to browse in Callahan’s of Calabash, a wonderful treasure trove of a store with everything from home décor to gifts to apparel. Who doesn’t love treasure hunts in consignment shops? Calabash is home to one of the area’s best – Bloomingail’s Consignment. Owner Gail Roberson wanted a place where every woman could afford to buy nice things – and this store is filled with high quality items at prices you just can’t believe! We want to know your favorite places in Little River and Calabash! Send them to lmoore@strandmedia.com, and we’ll post them on our Facebook page!
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A Celebration of Caring Cecelia Tackett: Community Relations Liaison, Hospice Care of South Carolina Where did you grow up? What did your family do on Mother’s Day? I was born in Florida, but grew up in West Virginia. Mother’s Day was spent celebrating mothers and grandmothers – I have three siblings, and we would have a big dinner together that my mother prepared. She made wonderful desserts! I moved to the Grand Strand area after I was married. I wanted to be near the ocean, and it was halfway between Florida and West Virginia. What will you do this Mother’s Day? I will celebrate with my two sons, Cody and Lawson, along with Lawson’s beautiful wife, Savannah, and their two children, Landon and Luke. Savannah and Lawson are expecting another baby in October! They are the best, most loving sons a mother could want. I adopted Cody when he was sixteen. I had been a foster mother, and the director of the boys’ home where he lived called me and asked me to come meet him. Cody really picked me for his mom – he wouldn’t leave with anyone else. I am so blessed. He now works as a counselor at the same boys’ home, and he served his country as a Marine, doing two tours in Afghanistan. In what ways are you like your mother? What do you admire about her? I look just like my mother, it’s uncanny. She was such a wonderful grandmother to my sons – everywhere I’ve lived she moved in next door to be close to her boys. A woman of great faith, my mother was always an ambassador for Christ. Her mother, my grandmother, was an evangelist and my grandfather was a pastor. It’s not a surprise that my degree is in Theology. How has your work with Hospice Care of SC impacted you personally? Why do you believe hospice care is the best choice for patients with life limiting illnesses? My mother was a hospice patient, and the organization educated me about end of life issues with so much compassion. We didn’t understand what was going on, and with their help her final illness became a four week journey that ended in a celebration. I knew then that this was my calling – to educate people about hospice care, and how it can positively affect end of life care. I feel greatly blessed to be a part of this journey with so many families – hospice is a celebration of life and patients are given the dignity they deserve. Hospice Care of South Carolina is our state’s leading provider of hospice care with a branch in every county. We have over 17 years of experience and the highest percentage of board-certified staff of any hospice provider in South Carolina. You can keep your primary physician, and care can be provided where you want it – in your home or in a nursing home or assisted living facility. No one is ever turned away because of an inability to pay – you will never receive a bill, we bill Medicare, Medicaid or private insurance. We are there for you and your loved one 24/7, with someone always on call. For more information about Hospice Care of South Carolina, call Cecelia at 843-438-4905 or visit www.hospicecare.net.
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Becoming My Mother by Linda O’Connell
When I was a little girl I wore dress ups, played with baby dolls and emulated my mother. On hot summer evenings, I’d sit on the gentle sloping lawn, thick with clover flowers, and listen to my parents talk about the day’s events. While other moms wore makeup and teetered on high heels, mine never did. This morning as I slipped my feet into my new pair of wedges, the kind of shoes Mom used to wear, I took a nostalgic stroll. I’m a freshman in high school. Mom and I wear each other’s clothes and swap purses. On Saturdays, we walk a mile to Cherokee Street, the six block shopping center with a variety of independently owned small variety and specialty stores. She forbids me to wear make-up like the other girls, but for the most part, Mom’s okay. She sits on my bed on Sunday mornings, and we talk like friends. She sure doesn’t act like a mom, I tell her. We enjoy one another’s company. I’m a high school senior, and suddenly I don’t want to be anything like the woman I strongly resemble. Complete strangers stop us and comment that we look like sisters. The last thing I want to hear is, “You look just like your mother.” No matter how accurate the statement, there is a twenty year gap between us. I am my own person, seeking my own identity and independence. Soon, I plan to get married and start my own life. I cannot wait to get away from Mom’s restrictive rules. I’m twenty-two, and Mom is forty-two. She walks a mile every other day to my house to adore and spoil her first granddaughter. They idolize one another. I enjoy Mom’s company again. I can do my own thing, wear make-up if I want. She’s always available to babysit at a moment’s notice. I feel blessed. “Mom, why don’t you let me put make-up on you?” I beg until she finally gives in. I poof her
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bouffant hair, tint her lips, rouge her cheeks and smudge sky blue eye shadow across her lids. “There, let me see. You look beautiful,” I say. My puzzled expression makes her dash to the mirror. “I look painted. This isn’t me,” she insists, but she leaves the makeup on to please me. As we sit across from one another dunking Danish – she always brings bakery goods – I can hardly bear to look into her face. One of her heavy eyelids sinks into the socket, and the blue eye shadow disappears into the fold. She looks like a clown with one bright, blue lid. “You’re probably right, Mom, you look just great without makeup.” I reach for the cold cream. Mom tells me that a little lipstick is good because as a woman ages it brightens her appearance. So I always wear lipstick, and Mom wears it only when she’s going out. The other day she smiled at the neighbor with bright pink lips and no front teeth. She had forgotten her partial dental plate, and her mouth sunk in like a collapsed clay pot. I was totally embarrassed for her and myself. “I’ll never be like that!” I vowed. Mom is sixty; I am forty; my daughter is twenty, and her little girl is ripping wrapping paper off her first birthday presents. I overhear my daughter talking to my mom. “Gram, I adore you, but Mom drives me crazy! I hope I’m never like her.” I’m 55 and concerned as I stroll into Mom’s hospital room. What a place to celebrate her seventyfifth birthday. I ask if she has a nail clipper, rummage through her purse, and discover a bottle of moisturizer and a razor wrapped in a paper towel. “What is this for?” I ask. She smiles self-consciously and taps above her top lip, rolls her eyes and says, “You just wait!” No wonder her kisses often feel a bit abrasive. I shake my head and cringe. I hope I am never like Mom. She’s
becoming a real embarrassment with her bristly lip, droopy lids, sometimes toothless grin and unfiltered comments. She is surrounded by three generations singing happy birthday so loud the doctor pokes his head into her room and laughs at the sight of a birthday cake with candles ablaze. My sixteen year old granddaughter shares a confidence with Mom and me when her mother walks out of the room. “My mom doesn’t know anything! I can’t wait to go to college and get away from her!” I chuckle and clean up the party mess. As I wash my hands, I look in the mirror and see that I bear a striking resemblance to my mother. I massage moisturizer into my facial creases and wonder when my eyelids got so heavy. I listen to the conversation in the room and smile when my daughter jokes, “Gram, we all have the same family traits: your sassy mouth and heavy eye lids.” My sixteen year old granddaughter moans, “Mom, how embarrassing!” She utters the same phrase under her breath that has been repeated by four generations, “I hope I never act like you.” I hug and kiss my children and grandchildren as they leave the hospital. After everyone departs, I walk over and plant a kiss on Mom’s wrinkled
cheek and say, “I love you.” I expect her to reply with something sweet. Instead she says something profound. She taps her lip, points at mine and says, “Honey, my razor’s in my purse if you want to use it.” We laugh out loud. Mom has always been a spunky, little, fun-loving woman who speaks her mind. I enter the hospital elevator, send up a silent prayer for her, rub the space above my top lip and chuckle. Alone, I look at my reflection. Is that me or is that my mom? I see her in my mirror, and I hear her in my words. The age lines blur and I realize, I am becoming my mother.
Linda O’Connell,
a preschool teacher for almost four decades, is notorious for holding her life together with duct tape and humor. Her greatest loves are family, the beach and dark chocolate.
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Autumn’s Rain by Lola Di Giulio De Maci
We had a plan. My sister would be responsible for balancing the checkbook and paying the bills. My brother would do the grocery shopping and run errands. I would take Mom to her doctors’ appointments and pick up her prescriptions. Since Mom loved her apartment at the senior center and had lived there for several years, we would take care of her in the comfort of her own home. It was important for us to keep Mom in the only house she remembered. My sister would be there on Tuesday and Friday. My brother on Wednesday and Saturday. I would be there Monday and Thursday. Sunday was family day. Our mother had Alzheimer’s. She was a good mother. She supported us in our fantasies and encouraged us in our dreams. She sat at our sides as we did our homework and was there at our bedside when we were ill. Mom was our heartbeat and our rock, allowing us to grow into the persons we were meant to be. Looking back, I don’t remember a day when I came home from school when Mom wasn’t there waiting for me. The kitchen was always filled with the delicious aroma of something cooking on the stove or something baking in the oven. I looked forward to the days the house smelled of apples and cinnamon. Then I knew there would be cinnamon pinwheels made out of leftover pie dough. One of my favorites. Sunday dinners were always very special. Homemade pasta graced the table in a bowl big enough to feed an army. Everything else was homemade also: the sauce, the bread, the sausage, even the wine (that was Dad’s specialty). Family day. Mom used to remember everything. If you wanted to know anything about anything, just ask Mom. “Remember, Mom, when we couldn’t find Grandpa at the train station and…” “…and he was already on the train,” Mom chimed in, laughing, recalling her father’s wanderlust. “He loved to travel. He was always the first one onboard.” And then one day, Mom couldn’t remember where the bathroom was. Or if she had eaten breakfast. Or that we were there with her when we stepped out of the room for a moment. That brazen Alzheimer’s thief was shamelessly tiptoeing into her life and robbing her of her memory.
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In happier times, when I would drop in to visit Mom, she always had a fresh pot of coffee brewing on the stove. I would fill her big brown mug with the word “Mom” etched on it in bold, curvy letters, and then get myself the one with the brightly-colored Christmas tree painted on it. No matter what time of the year it was, I loved the feeling of Christmas in my hands. It seemed to offer so much promise. But now it was my turn to make the coffee. Sipping our coffee in our favorite mugs, we welcomed that time together. Sometimes we talked; sometimes we didn’t. Occasionally Mom would say something, and then a few minutes later she would say it again. And then again. I would hold my promise cup a little tighter in my hands. Mom’s last few years were filled with confusion and anxiety. In addition to my brother, sisters and me, Mom had many grandchildren and greatgrandchildren. Some of us she knew by name; some, she didn’t. That Alzheimer’s thief didn’t care if she had children or not. He robbed her of her memory, her family…and her dignity. At the end, no matter how much we encouraged her, supported her, loved her, she simply gave up. When the time came, a soft, September rain fell over the earth, shading the windows of her hospital room with a silver shawl. My brother, sister and I were at her bedside. Silently saying our good-byes, our tears echoed the rhythm of the raindrops on the windowsill. Soon this gentle, autumn rain gave way to one of the most beautiful rainbows I had ever seen. Caught up in its beauty, we knew Mom had made the journey to heaven. She had gone home. There are times today when I sit at my own kitchen table, sipping my coffee from the big, brown mug with the word “Mom” etched on it in bold, curvy letters. I welcome its comfort and the memories of my mother like she used to be – well, vibrant, alive. And I hold my promise cup a little tighter, truly grateful for the time I had with my mother…truly cherishing one memory at a time.
Lola Di Giulio De Maci
is a retired teacher whose stories have appeared in several editions of Chicken Soup for the Soul and the Los Angeles Times (Kid’s Reading Room). She enjoys handwritten notes/letters, her children, and new beginnings. She writes from her loft overlooking the San Bernardino Mountains.
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Dancin’ Queen by Beth Pugh
“What’s wrong, Papaw?” I stepped through the door of my grandparents’ sitting room. My two year old son stopped in the living room, eying the toys in his cousin’s play pen. Rattles and plastic phones, tiny stuffed animals from a mobile and a bouncy seat that used to be his. They were much too young for him, but to a toddler, a toy is a toy, and he had found a treasure trove of them. I left him under the watchful eyes of dotting aunts and continued through the house. The sitting room was dark, only a desk lamp was on. I interrupted the theme song of Andy Griffith to ask the question. Papaw sat in his nearly worn out recliner directly in front of it, the way he has every day for the last fifty years, his gray hair shinning wherever the dim touched. “What? Oh, nothing,” he answered quickly, almost as if my question had woke him from a dream or brought him back from a memory he’d been reliving. The look on his face did not match his reply. His mouth was slightly agape, and his eyes were wide. He wore the expression of someone half frightened, half surprised and entirely confused. The original expression of shock melted away, but I could tell he was still not at ease. He looked in my direction, but not at me with his eyes. Instead, he looked past me, then quickly in the other direction, with his head down. He seemed ashamed of where his thoughts had been. “Something’s wrong. You were looking at me funny.” “No, nothing’s wrong,” he said, and let out a little laugh before adding, “You looked just like Deb walking through the door.” I wasn’t expecting that answer, but when it came I understood his reluctance to answer my question. “Nope, it’s just me, Papaw.” Debbie was my papaw’s daughter. She was also my mother. We lost her eleven years ago to
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chronic kidney disease, and between the two of us it’s still hard to talk about her. We never know what will hurt the other, and so it’s something we rarely do. He’s not the first to tell me this, though. People tell me how much I look like her almost as often as they see me. When I run into her old friends in the grocery store, it’s one of the first things they say. They hug me or touch my arm slightly and smile as they do. Honestly, I don’t think I look that much like her. But they mean well, so I smile back and thank them. I take it as the highest compliment they can give. Some girls would hate to be like their mothers. I’m just the opposite. If I can be half the mom my mother was, I’ll consider my children blessed. She was sweet and kind. She forgave easily and loved like she’d never been hurt. Her smile lit up the whole house, not just a room. More importantly, she knew how to have fun. She was never like the other adults, calm and collected. She didn’t have it in her to be. She was too excitable. The littlest things amused her and brought her joy. Childlike doesn’t even begin to describe her. The fondest memory I have of her is watching her dance. Most of my childhood memories have faded, but this one remains vivid. We were in the kitchen after school. She was giggling like a mad woman, and then she starts dancing. Well, trying to dance. Her feet are big, so her movements are awkward, not smooth at all. She basically lunges forward as far as she can, bunny hops forward from there and claps her hands three times in a row. Then, she laughs the most contagious laugh I’ve ever heard, and I can’t help but laugh, too. The dance remains fresh in my mind, like it just happened yesterday. My two year old runs past me through the doorway of the sitting room. He pulls at my hand and says in his whiney, sleepy voice, “Go home.” “But we just got here. Are you sure you want to go home,” I plead with him. “Go home,” he says again as he starts to the front door. I say my goodbyes and follow him. When we get to our living room, I turn on the television. He asks for “doot-doot.” I turn on Youtube, which is what he’s really asking for, and the music starts playing. “Bubby, wanna’ dance?” He smiles and reaches for me. I pick him up in my arms. We jump around, right and left. I twirl us around and around, careful not to let my feet get in the way. I dip him, and he grins from ear to ear. He thinks I’m crazy and starts laughing as I raise him back up. Our laughter fills the house as the song continues to play. “That’s all for now, Bub,” I say, letting myself collapse on the couch. Maybe, just maybe, Papaw’s right.
Beth Pugh
is a wife, mother and daughter striving to live a life of contentment, like baby bear soup. She hopes her stories help others to do the same.
MOTHERS MAKE THINGS BRIGHT AND BEAUTIFUL When my mom became ill, we wanted her to be cared for just as devotedly as she had cared for others in her life. That’s what Lower Cape Fear Hospice Mercy Care did. The hospice team compassionately cared for her and allowed us to spend more quality time with mom. They helped her come back to us and be present in her precious final days. This Mother’s Day, please consider making a donation to Lower Cape Fear Hospice Mercy Care to honor the special women in your life and to give the gift of hospice to others in our community.
843.848.6480
MercyHospice.org/MothersDay
“
Once we started hospice care, the mother I had known my whole life came back to us.
“
Every Gift Matters.
Lisa Skinner Lefler and Lottie Jo Skinner
June 11, 2016 ~ River Oaks Golf Plantation Lower Cape Fear Hospice Foundation proudly presents
15TH ANNUAL JOHN HEIERT/JEAN
WHEELER MEMORIAL
Registration 8 a.m. - Shotgun Start 9 a.m. All golfers will enjoy golf and a cart at River Oaks Golf Plantation, breakfast, lunch, hole-in-one challenge, putting contest, raffles and awards!
Please contact Tom Badurski at 843-848-6496 or tbadurski@mercyhospice.org to register or for sponsorship opportunities.
Sign Up Early!
All net proceeds benefit Camp Happy Hearts, a biannual grief and bereavement camp for children who have experienced the loss of a loved one.
TOURNAMENT www.WheelerGolf.org
Every Shot Matters. Every Player Matters.
Mother’s Day Gifts to Pamper and Please! This Mother’s Day, let Sasee do the shopping for you! Our crew has found some unique and beautiful gifts to help you give your mother or grandmother a special treat. A tip for Sasee mothers: Highlight your favorites and casually leave this page where your family can’t miss it! Every mom needs a pretty clutch to enjoy on her next girls’ night! Talk of the Town 10729 Ocean Hwy. Pawleys Island 843-314-0793
Hand painted forever flowers make the perfect gift for your mother’s garden! ByGone Beauties 1409 Hwy. 17 South Surfside Beach 843-215-9697
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Earth Grace Custom Birthstone Bracelet (ORDER AHEAD OF TIME) Studio 77 5001 North Kings Hwy. Myrtle Beach 843-497-5931
Le Cadeaux melamine gift sets for the mom who loves to cook! Barbara’s Fine Gifts 6414 North Kings Hwy. Myrtle Beach 843-449-0448
Gift ideas for Mothers and Grandmothers living in assisted living facilities or nursing homes
Scout Bags are great for everything, including the beach or pool. Palmetto Ace Home Center 8317 S. Ocean Hwy. Pawleys Island 843-235-3555
Anita Weaver, of Morningside Assisted Living, Stacy Manning of Lower Cape Fear Hospice Mercy Care and Diane Blake of Myrtle Beach Estates gave us some great gift ideas for mothers and grandmothers living in assisted living facilities or nursing homes.
• Lotions • Facial tissue • Perfume • Costume Jewelry • Easy care house plants, a fresh bouquet or flower seeds along with soil and a cute pot • Bird feeders or hummingbird feeders
You Da Mom Hexagon Porcelain Catchall Trinket Tray Sea Island Trading Co. 720 Hwy. 17 North, Little River, 843-273-0248
if the facility allows them to be placed outside the windows
Mommy and Me Heart Necklace Set The Kangaroo Pouch 3320 Reed St., Market Common 843-839-2958 4015 North Kings Hwy., Myrtle Beach 843-839-0990
Wooden family photo frame Good Deed Goods 579 Highway 17 Bus. Murrells Inlet 843-651-7979
• Puzzles and Games • Small Craft Making Kit • Photo Albums with current and old photos • Electronic Picture Frames • DVDs of old TV shows • CD or iPod/MP3 player pre-loaded with favorite tunes • Wireless Headphones especially those that help with hearing the TV
• Homemade Gift Baskets • Bathrobe • Greeting Cards and Stamps if able to write others • Personalized Memory DVD of family & friends • Daily Calendar with Devotional or Inspirational Messages
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Family Recipes by Rose Ann Sinay
My grandmother, Alice, was a big, tall woman with a penchant for going shoeless. With her high cheekbones, long dark hair (parted in the middle) and her wide, leathery feet (the only trait I inherited from her), she could have passed as a full-blooded American Indian. My sister and I were very excited at the prospect of being part Indian. We were so disappointed when we learned she was 100 percent English--not a drop of Indian blood. Our dreams of being related to Pocahontas were dashed. I saw my grandmother only a handful of times. Our nomadic, military life made visits with her short and infrequent. Unfortunately, it also hindered our familial bonding. The wife of a farmer and mother of thirteen children, Grandmother wore a lifetime of hard work and hard times on her face and in her walk. I had heard enough stories to know that she and my grandfather had been dirt poor, land rich and too proud to accept help. Everyone who lived under their roof had their assigned chores. My mother (at an age when I played with dolls) spent her days in the fields picking cotton, vegetables, weeds and rocks.
Each short visit to the Texas homestead precipitated a reunion of my mom’s brothers and sisters and their families. My arrival simply added one more to the many cousins who ran through the rooms of the old farmhouse playing hide and seek. My grandmother always seemed to be at the other end of the house with a football team of bodies between us. I figured I would have to catapult myself over them to speak to her. I wondered if she knew who I was in the sea of children’s faces. My mother’s assurances that Grandmother knew who I was and loved me, as she did all of her grandchildren, did nothing to relieve my doubt. I sometimes added a note to accompany my mother’s monthly letters to her. I listed my achievements, my grades--anything I thought would grab her attention. I always ended my notes with I’m the one with the reddish brown hair. It was the only attribute I could think of that would distinguish me from all the others. When I was thirteen, we returned to the United States, after having lived overseas for five years. Perhaps, it was the emotional roller coaster of puberty that made me obsessive about making a connection with my grandmother. I dreamed of having Christmas at Grandma’s house, baking cookies with her, or just having special times together. I decided if I had to hurl myself over the goal line to talk to her, then that’s what I would do. She probably didn’t know my name. I was going to change that. Whether it was happenstance or my mother’s doing, we arrived at my grandmother’s to an almost empty house. I was excited. I would have her all to myself. I was expecting something special. Instead she handed me a bag of carrots. “You can help me make dinner. When you finish peeling the carrots, you can start on those potatoes.” I was crushed. We silently began to prepare dinner.
n n A e s o For R
Grandmother’s days were spent preparing meals on the cast iron stove for her large family. Everything was fresh from the garden (or the barnyard) and made from scratch. She constructed and altered clothes, over and over again, to fit the next child in line. The list of responsibilities must have been overwhelming--one that couldn’t be dwelled upon--just completed, day after day. Despite her worn and weary appearance, her voice had a surprising lilt and her eyes held a warmth that I longed to bask in. By the time my mother had left home, married my father and I came along, I was number umpteen on an ever-growing list of grandchildren. Babies were a fact of life. I was neither special nor un-special.
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“So you’re good in English and history,” she said, cutting up a chicken with a few quick strokes of a knife. “Yes,” I replied. “I love to read.” “Your mother always had her nose stuck in a book. She’d pick vegetables with one hand and hold a book in the other.” She laughed. “Reading was her favorite thing to do. You remind me of her when she was young.” “Really? Do I look like her?” I asked. “There’s a resemblance.” Grandmother arranged the chicken in the pot adding my nicked up vegetables, and then, turned her attention to me. “I’ve always thought you looked like your great grandfather. That’s where you get the red in your hair.” She noticed, I thought happily, forgetting that I reminded her of the color of my hair every time I wrote to her. We finished preparing dinner and chatted about whatever came to mind. My grandmother was a no nonsense woman, full of facts and strong opinions on just about everything. I suspected I took after her, after all. “I made us a treat,” she said after we cleaned our prep area. She took two bowls of Indian pudding out of the refrigerator and added a dollop of cream. I finished mine in record time. “It was delicious. I’d love to have your recipe,” I said, politely mimicking my mother’s words whenever we ate at someone’s house. “I knew you would.” She took an envelope out of the drawer. For Rose Ann was written in her large cursive writing. It was the last time I saw Grandmother Alice. When she died, I pulled out the handwritten recipe and made our Indian pudding. I ate tiny spoonfuls remembering that afternoon when Grandmother turned into someone special instead of just a word. I put the card back in the envelope with my name written on it and placed it in its special box. After all, it was the family recipe.
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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Cheap Gifts and Love by Janey Womeldorf
I joked to the counter clerk that there was something absurd about paying almost $25 to mail something that cost barely $2 to make, but mentioned they were cookies for my Mum and “when your Mum loves your cookies, your Mum gets your cookies.” “That’s nothing,” he responded. “I had a woman at my counter last week mailing a food package to her husband that was almost two-feet high.” “Oh my gosh,” I gasped. “That must have cost a fortune.” Apparently, the husband had recently moved to California for a temporary job assignment and was staying in a hotel at the company’s expense. During their phone call the night before, he had gushed how much he missed his wife and ached to get home because of how much he missed her cooking, especially her gumbo. The next morning she got up, cooked up a huge batch of gumbo, and decided to ship it to him—crockpot and all.
Cost of gift: $2.00. Cost to mail: $22.50. Mother’s Day was fast approaching, and I was clueless what to get. Coming up with original gift ideas for anybody in our family has become virtually impossible with every passing decade. If there’s a point in life when you don’t need more “stuff,” we are all there. I often joke, “If we can’t eat it, drink it or wear it, we probably don’t need it.” Suddenly, it hit me: my Mum loves my home-made, double-oatmeal cookies. Whenever she comes to visit, I am required to make a double batch—one for her to eat while she’s there, and one for her to take home. I have shown her how to make them but she’s not interested—cooking them herself would dilute what makes them special. I decided to make her a batch for Mother’s Day and send them to her, even though that would mean sending them internationally to England where she lives. Undeterred, I filled two baggies, packaged them in a sturdy box and cheerfully headed to the post office. “First-class international costs $22.50 or you can send it priority for $33.50,” the clerk informed me. I reeled for a second at the shock and with my inner shame flame burning bright, replied, “I’ll take the cheapest.” There is something that smacks of tightwad when you utter the word “cheapest” and anything gift-related for someone you love, in the same sentence. It’s like finding the perfect Mother’s Day card at Wal-Mart only to turn it over and see 97 cents glaring on the back; I can’t bring myself to buy it even if it is perfect. The bizarre thing is; I would happily give my husband of 27 years a 97-cents Valentines Day card. We’d probably even celebrate my bargain find afterwards. Mothers, however, fall under a different set of love rules — one that dictates you spend at least $2.95.
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I chuckled, but knew exactly how she felt; it’s called love. Years before, while my husband was in the military, his unit got shipped to an unnamed desert overseas. While he was there, two things kept him going—our weekly phone call and the plane that came in every other week to deliver the mail. During one of our phone calls, I noticed he seemed more homesick than usual. After hanging up, I racked my brain to think of the perfect piece of home I could include in my next mail package. One thing we cherish on the weekends is Sunday mornings. Nothing unwinds you from a busy week like idling away a couple of hours, quietly reading the paper, perusing the ads and cutting coupons, while enjoying the homemade cookies we only bring out on weekends. It’s relaxation at its finest. That following Sunday, once I was done, I gathered up all the ads and coupons and rolled
them back up along with the entire paper and Parade magazine and dropped the whole lot back into its plastic sleeve. Once I located a box big enough, I placed the hefty roll inside along with the orange-handled scissors from our kitchen drawer. Last but not least, I put in a bag of cookies that I made with my new heart-shaped cookie cutter, and sealed it up. When he called that night, I said nothing—he already lived for mail day; this time though, I think I was as excited as he was. Two weeks later, I answered the phone. The joy gushed out of him with such velocity I couldn’t tell whether he was laughing or crying. Either way, his reaction to my “Sunday morning in a box” was obvious — he was ecstatic. He joked how all the other guys had made fun of him cutting coupons with his bright-orange scissors but, he hadn’t cared—for those few precious hours, it was Sunday, and he was home.
my Mum’s face would light up when she opened her gift and that, to me, was worth a far site more than $22.50. I hadn’t even reached the car, and I already couldn’t wait for her to open her present. I tucked the receipt in my purse and smiled to myself. My sticker shock was long gone, and I had no regrets about how much her Mother’s Day present had cost to send. I’d be lying if I didn’t confess one thing though: I’m sure glad it’s cookies she likes, not gumbo.
I don’t remember how much that package cost to send because it didn’t matter: Gifts of the heart are worth every penny. I handed the post office clerk my credit card, but there was no way I could leave without the key part of the gumbo story. “So how much did that crockpot of gumbo cost?” I inquired nosily. “Over $100,” he replied. I flinched with guilt; my $22.50 was a pittance in comparison. As I left the post office, I realized that when you are apart from someone you love, nothing closes the distance like a taste of home. I already knew
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Upscale Consignment Shop
Janey Womeldorf
once went to work wearing different shoes. She now freelance writes and scribbles away in Orlando, Florida. It’s probably best.
Ladies’ & Children’s Clothing Better Quality Used Furniture Unique Decorating Items Collectibles • Housewares
11115 Ocean Hwy., Pawleys Island (Next to Habaneros) • 843-237-8447 43 Monday-Saturday 10 am-5 pm • take2resale@yahoo.com
Being Open About Open Adoption by Katie Davis
I’ve been worrying about our future birthmother a lot recently. I don’t worry about how well she is taking care of her body or how she is taking care of our future baby. Well, I do worry about that a little, but it seems so far out of my control. I’ll never be able to help my birth mother choose organic food, give up pop or take her prenatal vitamins. I’ll never be able to take care of my baby in utero the way that I would if I was able to carry. I’ve accepted this. Sure, if we meet early enough, I can try, but she is her own person. No, with those issues my brain switches off. When those issues come up I imagine hearing static in my head, and giving God a blank stare that says, “Your call on this one.” When I think about our birth mother, I worry I won’t be able to communicate clearly enough that we will love and take care of her baby. Even those words seem inadequate: “love and take of.” I’ve rewritten that sentence about four times, and I’ve yet to come up with anything better. I want her to know that, even in her moments of self-doubt and pain, she choose right with us. I don’t ever want her to worry about her baby with us. Our birthmother’s humanity is seeping into my subconscious awareness of this process. It’s easy to eye the idea of the birth mother with critical skepticism. I know because I used to do the same thing. Women who consider placing their children tend to do so because they are at a place in their life where they are not physically, financially or emotionally prepared to parent at that time. Our family and friends have watched our pain and are protective of our hearts in this tumultuous process. Yet, now I find myself with an overwhelming amount of sympathy for a woman who I am asking to do what I never could: place her child for adoption.
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It’s so much easier to view the birth mother as a villain to save the baby from, but that’s not reality. Reality is she was selfless enough to grow a baby she didn’t feel she could keep in her stomach for nine long months. She watched her stomach swell. She felt the baby kick. She was selfless enough to ask for a birth plan when she was most likely scared and enduring indescribable pain. Think about it, our bodies are biologically wired to have a surge of hormones during and immediately after pregnancy that help the mother feel attached to the baby. Our birth mom is going to fight through the fog of hormones, feelings of helplessness and the pang of attachment to try and give her baby a better life. It is because of this that I f ind myself protective of her, whoever she may be. It is because of this that we will stay in contact with her in whatever way she feels most comfortable. We will always stay true to our contact agreement. But it is also because of this that if she decides to fade away because our baby is too painful of a subject, I won’t judge her. But our family will always be here for an update if she ever finds her way back. I just want her to have peace, and if I can’t give her that, I’ll give her any pictures or updates she wants. In a lot of ways, we are equally helpless, caught in the wake of how our lives are about to collide.
Katie Davis
lives with her husband, Jon and their two fat tabbies, Calvin and Milo, in Michigan. Katie is an English teacher who loves road trips and finding the interesting in the local.
Pure Barre is the fastest, most effective way to transform your body. Each 55 minute class offers a full-body workout that lifts your seat, tones your thighs, abs and arms and burns fat in record-breaking time.
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843-237-9500 Mon.-Sat. 10 am-5 pm
Murrells Inlet Shoppes at Tournament Boulevard • 11897 Highway 707 www.purebarre.com • murrellsinlet@purebarre.com
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1 8 15 22 29
May 2016 1-26
19th Annual Waccamaw Arts & Crafts Guild Juried Exhibition,
The Art Museum at Myrtle Beach, 3100 S. Ocean Blvd. For more info, call 843-235-2510 or visit myrtlebeachartmuseum.org.
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11 Annual Mayfest on Main, th
10 am – 6 pm, Main Street, North Myrtle Beach. For more info, call 843-281-2662 or visit
www.northmyrtlebeachchamber.com.
20-21, 26-28, 6/2-4
The Fantasticks, Swamp Fox
Players, Strand Theatre, Georgetown. For times and ticket info, call 843-527-2924 or visit swampfoxplayers.com.
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5-22
Clybourne Park,
Murrells Inlet Community Theatre. For more info, call 843-651-4152 or visit www.mictheatre.com.
14-15
Blue Crab Festival, 9am-6pm, Little River. For more info, call 843-249-6604 or visit www.bluecrabfestival.org.
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Moveable Feast, Julia Franks discusses Over the Plain House, 11 am, Carefree Catering, $25. For more info, call 843-235-9600 or visit www.classatpawleys.com.
May 2016
2 9 16 23 30
3 10 17 24 31
4 11 18 25
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Annual Blessing of the Inlet,
Belin United Methodist Church, Murrells Inlet, 9 am-4 pm, 843-651-5099, www.blessingoftheinlet.com.
16-20
5 12 19 26
6 13 20 27
7 14 21 28
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Rivertown Music and Craft Beer Festival, 11am-8 pm, Conway. For more info, call 843-248-6260 or visit www.conwayalive.com.
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Waterway Art Association 25th Annual Exhibit & Sale,
Music in the Park, 6 pm, Francis Marion Park, Georgetown. For more info, visit www.hammockcoastsc.com.
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Brunswick Community College Extension, Route 17, Calabash, N.C. For more info call 910-575-3737 or visit www.waterwayart.org.
The Embers & Craig Woolard, Sunset Beach Concerts, 7 pm, Village Park on Queen Anne Street, Sunset Beach, N.C. For more info, visit www.sunsetbeachconcerts.com.
Fantastic Shakers, Ocean Isle
Concert Series, 6:30-8 pm, Museum of Coastal Carolina parking lot, E. Second St., Ocean Isle Beach, N.C. For more info, call 910-579-2166.
9911 N. Kings Hwy • Myrtle Beach, SC 29572 843-945-9288 • carolinasteakhouse.com
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Palmetto Ace Home Center
8317 S. Ocean Highway, Pawleys Island, SC 29585 (843) 235-3555 www.palmettoace.com
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–Kid’s Read It!–
Nicole Says…Read these books to your kids! Reviews by Nicole McManus
Dear Baby Letters from your Big Brother
by Sarah Sullivan • Illustrated by Paul Meisel Mike’s Mom is expecting a baby, soon. As a way to prepare for his new role as a big brother, his parents ask him to write a letter to the baby. Over the course of a year, Mike writes letters to his new little sister.
Readers get to see Mike grow from an anxious, expectant boy, to an annoyed brother, to a proud, big brother who is ready to brag about his little sister to everyone. Written in a scrapbook style, parents and children will chuckle at the pictures depicting Mike’s adventures. Overall, this is a precious book to teach young boys that it is a wonderful thing to be a big brother.
How to Be a Baby by Me the Big Sister by Sally Lloyd-Jones and Sue Heap
The big sister is old enough to do many things, and in this book she points out all the things a baby just cannot do. Even as the baby ages, he or she will still be “little” so the entire family will still be by their side. And the big sister is looking forward to being friends and sharing memories with the baby.
This picture book is full of hilarious quips about what it means to be a baby from the view point of an older sister. Older siblings will enjoy seeing the vast differences between themselves and the babies, while parents will appreciate the strong friendship that big sister fortifies through time.
Flash and Fancy
An Otter Adventure on the Waccamaw River by Tom Doran and Christine Thomas Doran Illustrated by Nancy Van Buren
Flash and Fancy are two lovely otters living on Sandy Island. Even though they knew of each other, their friendship is solidified when Fancy’s life is in danger. Flash comes to her rescue and the two of them explore the mighty Waccamaw River together.
This children’s book is great for teaching young readers about the Waccamaw River. The majestic scenery has a lot to offer, and most importantly a lot to protect. There are cute illustrations that help show the unique animal life that live along the river’s coast. The long sentences are made up of alliteration and numerous adjectives that give the prose a sing-song pattern. This scientific approach will spark children’s interest in learning more about nature.
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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–Handmade with Love– Happy Mother’s Day!
Sasee staff member, Susan Bryant, received a heartwarming gift last Mother’s Day that we want to share with you – this loving idea is a wonderful way for any older child/young adult to show how much they care.
Susan writes: One of my most thoughtful and favorite gifts of all time was presented to me last year on Mother’s Day. My 26 year old daughter, Kelsey, gave me a handmade gift, a jar filled with 365 reasons she loved me. She instructed me to read one every day for the next year. I can’t imagine how hard it was for her to come up with 365 unique things to write, and the time it took her to complete this heart-warming gift just fills me with emotion every time I open that jar and read one of her handwritten slips of paper. Telling another person how much you love them in such a unique way is priceless. Thank you Kelsey for making me feel so loved. Other than the day you were born, I cannot imagine another gift I will cherish as much as this handmade gift of love. Whether your gift is a handmade card, a crayon drawing or breakfast in bed, Sasee wishes all of our readers a
Happy Mother’s Day!
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Advertiser Index
The Accessory Cottage.................................................................................................17 Atlantic Dermatology...................................................................................................11 B. Graham Interiors......................................................................................................15 Barbara’s Fine Gifts.......................................................................................................26 Bleu....................................................................................................................................7 Brookgreen Gardens.....................................................................................................10 Bygone Beauties............................................................................................................24 Cabana Collections.......................................................................................................27 Callahan’s of Calabash..................................................................................................51 Carolina Car Care.........................................................................................................17 Carolina Seafood & Steak............................................................................................47 CHD Interiors...............................................................................................................52 Chive Blossom.................................................................................................................7 Christopher’s Fine Jewelery........................................................................................19 The Citizens Bank.........................................................................................................16 Cultural Council of Georgetown...............................................................................33 Darden Jewelers...............................................................................................................7 David Grabeman, D.D.S., P.A.....................................................................................16 Dr. Sattele’s Rapid Weight Loss & Esthetics Centers............................................21 Eleanor Pitts...................................................................................................................24 Finders Keepers.............................................................................................................29 Fowler Life Coaching...................................................................................................25 Good Deed Goods........................................................................................................35 Grady’s Jewelers..............................................................................................................9 Grand Strand Plastic Surgery.....................................................................................35 Harvest Commons........................................................................................................25 Homespun Crafters Mall.............................................................................................32 Homewatch Caregivers................................................................................................47 Hospice Care of of SC..................................................................................................29 The Joggling Board........................................................................................................32 Kangaroo Pouch............................................................................................................26 Knight Furniture Showrooms....................................................................................11
The Lakes at Litchfield.................................................................................................20 Litchfield Dance Arts Academy...................................................................................5 Long Bay Symphony....................................................................................................29 Lower Cape Fear Hospice Mercy Care.....................................................................37 Morningside of Georgetown......................................................................................10 Myrtle Beach Estates....................................................................................................24 Palmetto Ace Hardware...............................................................................................47 Papa John’s Pizza...........................................................................................................25 Perfect Fit........................................................................................................................35 The Pink Cabana...........................................................................................................27 Pounds Away..................................................................................................................29 Pure Barre.......................................................................................................................45 Pure Compounding......................................................................................................17 Rioz..................................................................................................................................16 Roper St. Francis...........................................................................................................31 Rose Arbor Fabrics & Interiors..................................................................................27 Sea Island Trading Co....................................................................................................3 Shades & Draperies........................................................................................................5 A Silver Shack................................................................................................................32 Simply Divine................................................................................................................24 South Atlantic Bank......................................................................................................45 Studio 77.........................................................................................................................27 Sunset River Marketplace..............................................................................................7 Take 2 Resale..................................................................................................................43 Talk of the Town...........................................................................................................25 Taylors.............................................................................................................................45 Two Sisters with Southern Charm............................................................................41 Vandy Jewelers...............................................................................................................16 Wayne’s View Photography...........................................................................................5 WEZV..............................................................................................................................50 Wicker Imports/Island Furniture................................................................................2 Yoga in Common..........................................................................................................35
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