Sasee - November 2015 by Strand Media Group

November 2015 Priceless www.sasee.com

Joy is the simplest form of gratitude. Karl Barth

who’s who Volume 14, Issue 10

November 2015

Publisher Delores Blount

Sales & Marketing Director Susan Bryant

Editor

Leslie Moore

Account Executives Amanda Kennedy-Colie Erica Schneider Gay Stackhouse

Art Director

Patrick Sullivan

Graphic Artist Stephanie Holman

Photographer & Graphic Artist Aubrey Plum

Contributing Photographers Leslie Moore Celia Wester

Web Developer

Featured Grace: You’ve Either Got It or You Don’t by Penelope Foran . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8 A Grateful Heart, by Rose Ann Sinay . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 12 Skinny by Margaret Bishop . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 16 The Value of a Good Apple by Celina Colby . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 24 The Thank-You Note That Made the Difference by Janey Womeldorf . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 32 Pressing Pause by Diane Stark . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 34 Blue Suede Shoes and a Blue-Eyed Baby by Ann Ipock . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 38 Thanksgiving in Israel by Cynthia Buchbinder . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 44 Giving Thanks, Then and Now by Jeffrey Cohen . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 50

In This Issue

Read It! . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10 Elegant Charm: Kathy Cody . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 14 Southern Snaps: Healing Grace: Dr. Angela Mislowsky by Leslie Moore . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 18 Paying it Forward: Claudia Berner . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 22 Sassee Kids: The Nutcracker . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 28 Shades & Draperies: Sharon Davis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 30 Two Sisters with Southern Charm: Angie Rodriguez and Roxann Bartz . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 36 November Calendar . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 43

Scott Konradt

Accounting Stacie Sapochak

Administrative & Creative Coordinator Celia Wester

Executive Publishers Jim Creel Bill Hennecy

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 © 2015. 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.

holiday open house November 13th & 14th Vahan trunk show~Nov. 13 Monica Kosan trunk show~Nov. 14 SHOPS AT OAK LEA 11096 OCEAN HIGHWAY PAWLEYS ISLAND, SC 29585 (843) 237-8080 WWW.ELEANORPITTS.COM

Pen & Brush readers’ comments RE: “Powwow at Camp Smooshabosom,” by T’Mara Goodsell I love this, T’Mara. It is so very real, so very heartbreaking. Having been in the call back and biopsy club, I know how frightening this process can be. What’s remarkable, though, is the way you’ve closed on such an inspiring note. I adore the line about how we women struggle in this life sometimes, yet go on loving our families and trying to find happiness in spite of the bad things. This IS how we thrive. Thank you for such a beautiful, beautiful essay. - Theresa RE: “Halloween Cats on the Prowl,” by Linda O’ Connell What an embarrassing but delightful story. Sometimes all we can do is laugh at

letter from the editor Most of you were probably taught, like me, that handwritten letters and notes are important, and always the best way to communicate heartfelt thanks and greetings. I still believe that, but I have learned that a newsy email or text from a friend or family member can have great meaning. My son left for France about a month ago, he took a job teaching English in a small town called Montluçon. His emails and texts have kept me up to date on his life and let me know all is well. Plus, the ease of simply picking up the phone and tapping away ensures that I’ll receive them on a regular basis. The same is true for my daughter who lives in Baltimore. Through Facetime calls, I can see my adorable granddaughters as often as I like, and even though it isn’t as satisfying as an in person visit, those video calls keep us connected. A few months ago, I received an email from my first cousin with whom I hadn’t communicated with in several years. He lives in a northern state, and we lost touch after first my parents, then his, passed away. The pleasure I get from our (now) frequent communication could not be improved through the handwritten note. Now, for me, the communication and the feeling behind it are the important things. I’ll always enjoy sending and receiving handwritten notes on pretty cards, but as I give thanks for my many blessings this month, one of the first will be my ability to easily connect with the ones who can’t be at the table. Happy Thanksgiving,

ourselves. It makes us human and at the same time entertains. Thanks for sharing. I’m probably going to think of you every time I see a trick-or-treater dressed like a cat. -Barbara RE: “Enough Stuff,” by Melissa Face Once again an awesome story, Melissa. Such an awesome view of creating memories and not “stuff.” I agree with you wholeheartedly! -Brenda RE: October Sasee What a great job on the October issue! Thanks for letting us be a part of this publication. -Linda, Plain & Fancy

Cover Artist Shiloh sophia

Finding Paradise, by Shiloh Sophia

Artist Shiloh Sophia McCloud was born in Marin County, California, in 1970. Shiloh was trained by her mother in literature and poetry and then attended the Academy of Art. She studied with renowned Byzantine Russian Iconographer, Pavel Tikhimov and calls her method of painting “Contemporary Symbolism.” At 23 she rendered her first one-woman show under the tutelage of American Master Painter and Sculptor Sue Hoya Sellars, whom she studied with most of her life. In 1997, she opened her first gallery, Color of Woman, in Port Townsend, Washington, followed by galleries in Sonoma, Sausalito, and San Francisco, and Mendocino, California, and is a Professor Emeritus at Sofia University. Shiloh has produced over 1200 original paintings and is one of the most popular and collected artists in her genre as well as one of the top grossing artists in the United States for over ten years. She currently resides in the Valley of the Moon in Sonoma County with her husband, Jonathan Lewis. To see more of her work, visit www.shilohsophiastudios. com or find her on Facebook.

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Single in Myrtle Beach? Michelle is an attractive, 40-something professional woman. Recently divorced, she’s decided it’s time to meet new people. Excited for a night on the town, early Saturday night Michelle calls up a few of her girlfriends to make plans. The first call is Jill, married with two kids. “Sorry, Michelle,” she says, “I am just so exhausted from work this week! Thanks, but I’m settling in for a quiet night with the husband.” Undeterred, Michelle makes a second call to her old college friend, Anna. Anna says she would go out but these days she is caring for her elderly mother and cannot afford the expense of an adult sitter. Okay, Michelle thinks, one more try – Sarah! Sarah is sure to be up for it because she is also divorced and her children are teenagers. But once again, “I’d love to, but both girls are home tonight and I haven’t spent much time with them.”

It occurs to Michelle just how much things have changed in the dating scene. Her friends have moved on and going out just isn’t the same as it was in her 20s. She pours herself a glass of wine and wonders she’ll ever meet someone.

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Voice

Grace: You’ve Either Got It or You Don’t By Penelope Foran

Only a few short hours ago, I had walked into the hospital a normal person. Now I was walking out a CANCER PATIENT. It is always one of the things we fear the most, even more so for those of us who know most of what is coming. We care for these patients, and we go home every day praying that we will never be one of them. As soon as I arrived at home, I called my dad first. He had overcome a lot in his life, and I sensed that he may be able to help. Daddy had lost his leg in a train accident on the job at the age of twenty-three. Rather than accept a life on disability, common in 1943 before the advent of physical therapy and high-tech prosthetics, my dad fought tooth and nail to win back his job as a fireman on the Pennsylvania Railroad.

Eventually, I realized that there was a place that I could go to get some of that grace. I prayed. Even a lowly earthling like me could do that. I didn’t have to be married to a President or a Greek tycoon to pray.

Not only did he regain his previous status, he became the first amputee on the east coast to become a locomotive engineer. Quitting was not in his nature, and now I hoped it would not be in mine.

Over the coming weeks and months, I survived seven weeks of simultaneous chemo and radiation. The regimen was grueling and exhausting, but I did my best to weather it with a daily smile and joke for my radiation therapist and chemo nurse. They could each use a healthy dose of happy to brighten their days.

“Hey Daddy, it’s me. Yes, I’m back from my test.” My voice cracked and the tears flowed, as I blubbered on. “It’s really bad. I have colon cancer. It looks like it may have spread into some of the surrounding tissue.” By now I was sobbing, great heaves and running nose. “I’m just so scared.”

When I completed that round, I received life-saving surgery. My surgery was of the radical nature that came with my diagnosis. But even that was okay. I had my life, after all. Somehow, I even found the chutzpah to crack jokes with my ostomy nurse.

“Well, let me tell you something. You can be scared, and sad, and bitter, and have colon cancer. Your other option is to be at peace, accept the situation, try to beat it, and have colon cancer. Isn’t that the way, Penny? Don’t you have colon cancer either way? That’s the way I see it. You have colon cancer. It’s up to you, and only you, how you choose to live with it. Penny, are you there?”

Many times on my journey, people told me how I handled it all with such grace. Imagine that! Elaine had it all wrong. Grace is ours for the asking. It is inside each of us, if only we ask.

“Yes, I’m here. I-I-I guess you’re right,” I choked out. Part of me had expected an “I love you. There, there, honey. Daddy will make it all better.” But, if that’s what I wanted, I didn’t get it. Never had and never would. I’m sure, however, that’s the precise reason that it was the first call I made. It was the call I needed to make. It was the call that eventually just might help to save my life. I knew that when I dialed the number.

Looking back at the conversation over the next few days, through a haze of shock and terror, I realized that what Daddy’s suggestion required was a gigantic dose of grace. As Elaine once said in a Seinfeld episode, “You can’t get grace. You either have it or you don’t.” I was convinced that I didn’t. As Elaine said, grace travels with the likes of Jackie Kennedy Onassis. I was coming up completely empty.

Fourteen years later, I remain grateful for my cancer experience. I learned so much about myself and every person in my life that I would never have discovered without my cancer journey. The stern words of a loving father led me to a place inside I never would have found without his words and my search to not just survive, but thrive. God’s grace is sufficient for me.

Penelope Foran

Penelope lives in Pawleys Island, South Carolina, with her husband and their four cats. A newly-wed at age sixty, she is finally indulging her passion for writing.

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–Read It!– Nicole Says…Read

Ordinary Grace

by William Kent Krueger Review by Nicole McManus 10

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Frank Drum is a middle-aged man, reflecting back on a critical summer from his childhood. Thirteen year old Frank should have experienced a season of happiness and peace in 1961, living in rural Minnesota. However, when he and his friends discover a body, he experiences the town’s losses in new horrifying ways. Standing on the sidelines while his world is turned upside down, Frank must rely on the sermons his father gives in church to remain connected with his faith. This coming-of-age novel is an incredible read for adults everywhere. Historical fiction meets thrilling suspense to deliver a beautiful tale of a father and son and the faith needed to survive a horrific crime. William Kent Krueger broke away from his mystery series to deliver this stand-alone story to readers. The easy-to-read chapters will keep readers entranced and guessing until the very end. The dialect brings the story alive and readers will be able to see and feel

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the sights around this town. This novel has it all: gripping suspense, a peaceful and historical setting and a story that readers won’t be able to put down. Even though William Kent Krueger is a well-known author to mystery lovers, this is the first time I have read his work and what a powerful introduction to his writing! I love books that easily combine numerous aspects into one elegant, page-turning tale. During this time of year, we all reflect on the things we are grateful for, things that make us appreciate life more. This story has a stunning way of echoing what is in our hearts this season.

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.

Voice

A Grateful Heart By Rose Ann Sinay

“We’re going to a movie, and then out to dinner for Thanksgiving,” I replied, smiling brightly when my friends asked what my husband and I were doing for the holiday. Our son was living in Spain at the time, and our daughter had gone on a two week vacation to Arizona after graduating college and ended up staying–indefinitely. We were alone for the holidays for the first time. “Come to our house,” our neighbors said. “Plenty of room and more than enough food.” And all your family, I thought enviously. I was feeling sorry for myself and guilty for feeling that way. I wanted to be with my family. Our friends were wonderful people, but Thanksgiving meant sitting around our dining room table with a centerpiece of yellow and orange mums, listening to our children banter, argue and share stories. It was our small family being together. It was tradition. I knew I didn’t have to worry. The kids were in good places. Our daughter was hosting dinner for her new friends out west. And although my son would not be celebrating Thanksgiving in Spain, I was sure he was happily eating his favorite Spanish fare. I was begrudgingly grateful for that. There was no reason to buy a turkey for just the two of us, so when I went grocery shopping, I tried to stay away from the holiday section, I could see (from a distance) the hoard of women surrounding the freezer bin, rolling the turkeys around like bowling balls, trying to find the biggest one that would feed their entire, extended brood. But that bin kept tugging at me like a magnet. I didn’t need the bird, but I wanted it; it was Thanksgiving for goodness’ sake! I gave in. I joined the fowl frenzy and chose a medium sized bird, complete with its pop up timer for perfect results. I threw a couple bags of fresh cranberries into my cart to keep the turkey company in our freezer until needed. After all, as my husband said, we could have Thanksgiving in March or July, or whenever the kids could make it back to Connecticut.

When I got home, I threw an old straw wreath wrapped in orange and brown plaid ribbon on the front door. I arranged a few pumpkins on the porch steps, but it still looked wrong--not our usual fanfare. The kids’ over-the-top, decorating touch was not there. Anyone driving by could see there was something missing. How could they not? Thanksgiving morning arrived. I had been awake since 5 am wallowing in the fact that it was the first time since my children had been born that I had not been in the kitchen, preparing to get “Tom” in the oven. Get over it, I told myself. I got up, got dressed and started my everyday routine. At 7:30 the phone rang. “Mom, I need help,” my daughter said from almost 2,500 miles away. “What’s wrong,” I could hear the panic in her voice. “Do I have to take that thing out of the turkey?” she asked. My little girl was preparing her first holiday dinner for her boyfriend and three other friends. I didn’t know whether to be happy for her or sink further into my funk. “You mean the bag with the giblets?” I laughed. “Yes you do. And rinse the cavity well.” “Oh gross,” she whined. “I don’t have any rubber gloves.” I thought I heard a quiver in her voice. I lightened up, immediately. We stayed on the phone for over an hour as I walked her through the steps of preparing Thanksgiving dinner. The pumpkin pie was store bought, but the rest of the meal would be a traditional feast. It almost felt like I’d spent the morning cooking. Later that afternoon, when we arrived at the theater, I was surprised to see it nearly full. We scooted between scrunched knees and the backs of seats to find two empty chairs. I caught sight of a few familiar faces before the lights went out. It appeared we weren’t the only couple without a house full of

relatives to feed. I don’t remember what movie we saw, but I do remember laughing--it was a comedy--it felt good.

morning, Mom. Dinner turned out great, but I like it better when you cook everything. Miss you so much.”

After the movie, as we waited for a table at a local restaurant, I recognized another couple who had been sitting in the row in front of us at the theater.

The second call was from our son in Spain: “Uh . . . you’re not home. You must be out having dinner at someone’s house. No Thanksgiving dinner here. My mouth is watering for some turkey and stuffing and mashed potatoes…oh well…I’m sure yours was good…maybe next year.” He missed us, too.

“You look familiar,” I said. “We were saying the same thing about you,” the woman replied. “I think our son’s soccer team played against your son’s team. We talked, non-stop, and declined a table for two, waiting until a table for four was available. We talked about our children, how fast they’d grown up, how proud we were of them, and how much we missed them. It was their first time alone, as well. My new friend and I ate steak, while our husbands devoured their turkey dinners. We smiled at each other; we understood. The light was blinking on our message machine when we arrived home. The first call was from our daughter. “Hey, Mom and Dad, Happy Thanksgiving. Thanks for the help this

Those two messages were what I needed to hear. It’s not their place at the table or a roasted Butterball on a single day that connects us; it’s the essence of family, tradition and what we hold dear to our hearts. We can share the love from anywhere. And for that, I am truly grateful.

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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Profiles

Elegant Charm: Kathy Cody Calabash Garden Tea Room

Describe yourself in a few sentences. I am passionate about my work; I love to cook and have been told I’m a workaholic. Luckily, I have been blessed with endless amounts of energy and primarily good health that helps me sustain my businesses. The love and support I receive from my family and friends keeps me motivated. When I’m not working, I enjoy traveling and trying new restaurants. Vintage jewelry and fashion are also passions of mine. What do you reach for first at the Thanksgiving table? Who prepared it? Thanksgiving dinner is usually served at my home with family, friends and anyone else who needs a place to celebrate. I will be preparing the meal, and my mother’s old family recipe for stuffing with bacon and walnuts is what I reach for first. Yum! My mouth is watering just thinking about it! When writing thank you notes – hand written or digital? Why? Handwritten of course! I am old fashioned that way and feel that is a much better way to say thank you. Give us three things in your life that make you stop and say “thank you” – and why you chose them. First, I am grateful to my parents for raising me to be a strong, independent woman. I have a happy life in a beautiful home here in paradise, and every day I get to come home to my sweet puppy, Franklin, whom I rescued this past winter. I am extremely grateful to have created a successful business where people can come and enjoy “taking tea” in a quaint and inviting atmosphere.

What makes Calabash Garden Tea Room unique? There are many things that make the Calabash Garden Tea Room unique. We just celebrated our eighth anniversary and have consistently been rated by teamap.com as the number one tea room in North Carolina. These ratings come from our customers. Your Calabash Garden Tea Room experience begins from the second you walk through the door. Our decor is an elegant combination of vintage and classic design that takes you back to another era. The service is thoughtful, friendly and personal, and our menu features a unique selection of tea sandwiches, fresh baked scones, desserts and over 80 different loose leaf teas for guests to choose from -- each tier is presented with fresh flowers! Our gift shop has everything the tea lover could wish for and more! Taking tea is not simply eating a meal; it is a transformation in time. Soft classical music playing in the background adds to the peaceful and nearly hypnotic atmosphere. Our customers return month after month and year after year to enjoy everything the tea room has to offer. We think everyone will agree there is no place else on earth like it! Calabash Garden Tea Room is located at 10152 Beach Drive, SW, Calabash, North Carolina. Hours are Wednesday – Saturday, 11:30 - 3 pm. For more info, visit www.calabashgardentearoom.com, find them on Facebook or call 910-579-9500..

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Voice

Skinny

By Margaret Bishop “Want to know something interesting?” my 11 year old daughter asked as we pedaled along on our bikes one early July morning. “At the end of school, our teacher gave us vocabulary words, and we marked whether they had a negative or positive connotation.” “Every single boy in the class said that SKINNY had a negative connotation, and every single girl in the class said that SKINNY had a positive connotation.” “Isn’t that interesting?” Interesting is one word to describe this classroom phenomenon. But, how about heartbreaking or depressing or maybe just inevitable? After all, wouldn’t the same result have likely occurred thirty-something years ago in my own 5th grade class? And why shouldn’t girls today associate positive thoughts with the word skinny? Aren’t they bombarded with advertisements featuring thin, beautiful women? Don’t their moms munch on Skinny Pop popcorn, drink Skinnygirl margaritas and sport fashionable “skinny” jeans (or at least aspire to)? And why do the boys associate negative thoughts with the word skinny? My female mind tells me that in boy speak the word skinny is just another synonym for “weak.” What 11 year old boy aspires to weakness? Strong, ripped, fit – these are the body images of which little boys dream. But weak? No way!

So what advice can I possibly offer my daughter and all the other girls like her that have been told in the subtlest of ways that skinny means everything? Skinny is not just another adjective in their world. Rather, skinny is a goal, something to strive for, an aspiration. And of all the positive things that a woman can be – kind, generous, intelligent, athletic, artistic (you get the idea) – skinny certainly doesn’t seem to deserve a top spot in the rankings. I suppose I want my daughter to know that there is so much more to a life well lived than a dress size or a number on a scale. I want her to know that skinny doesn’t mean happiness. In fact, some of the most unhappy women I have known have been nothing more than waifs, too consumed by their own crushing anxiety and depression to worry about providing fuel for their bodies. I want her to know that skinny doesn’t always mean healthy. If you need proof, just ask anyone that is battling a serious illness, and they will surely tell you that to gain a pound only means gaining strength in their eyes. I want her to know that despite what commercials may lead her to believe that skinny isn’t a free pass to fun, fame and good fortune. I want her to know that when I Google the word skinny, synonyms include words like “gaunt, emaciated and scrawny.” And finally, I want her to know that in HER world skinny can simply be an adjective – nothing more, nothing less: A word like many other words used to describe a person’s outward appearance without giving a single clue as to the state of the soul that lives within.

Margaret Bishop 16

Margaret Bishop and her husband, Matt, reside in Camden, SouthCarolina, with their three wonderful children (David, Olivia and Thomas) and always entertaining dog, Sugar. In between carpools, Margaret enjoys reading and writing as much as possible.

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Healing Grace:

Dr. Angela Mislowsky According to the American Cancer Society, breast cancer is the most common cancer among American women, except for skin cancers. About 1 in 8 (12%) women in the United States will develop invasive breast cancer during their lifetime. This year (2015) more than 40,000 women in this country will die from the disease (cancer.org). Since 2004, overall breast cancer incidence rates have remained relatively stable. There has been a decrease in later stage diagnoses and decrease in mortality. This is most likely because of increased routine mammograms and other screenings and decline in use of hormone therapy after menopause – plus the increased availability of skilled medical care given by doctors trained to diagnose and treat diseases of the breast (cancer.org). Our small community is fortunate to have one of the country’s best breast surgeons in practice here, Dr. Angela Mislowsky, a lively, attractive woman; quick with a laugh and friendly smile that belies the seriousness of her work. Dr. Mislowsky is one of Tidelands Coastal Carolina Breast Center’s two breast surgeons. She is a board certified general surgeon who earned her medical degree from New York Medical College and completed her breast surgery and breast cancer fellowship training at the University of Pennsylvania where she conducted research in the field of breast cancer. She did all this after obtaining her undergraduate degree from MIT.

“I was born in Baltimore and lived there all through school, the only child of two dentists,” Dr. Mislowsky began. Young Angela was also an athlete and played tennis competitively through high school and college. Surprisingly, she did not enter college planning to become a doctor. “I was a Chemical Engineering major, but began doing medical research part time during the school year and summer breaks in an oncology lab. I saw patients once a week and really enjoyed the interaction. In

talking with my parents about my plans, my mother mentioned she had found an old elementary school project I had done saying I wanted to be a doctor when I grew up! During my senior year of college I applied to medical school.” Becoming a surgeon is a long, arduous process. It took Dr. Mislowsky an extra five years of training after medical school to become board certified in general surgery, plus an additional year of training to become specialized in breast cancer and surgery. “I shadowed a breast surgeon during my surgical residency and enjoyed the hands on work and talking to patients -- she had a lot of meaning in her life and that influenced me as well.” Dr. Mislowsky said breast surgery combines hands on surgery and caring for patients, for her the best parts of being a

doctor. “I love the feeling of doing something good, and most of my patients have positive outcomes.” While she was doing her residency, Dr. Mislowsky’s parents moved south and settled near Charleston. When it came time to begin job hunting, at first this young surgeon would only consider Charleston or Baltimore, her childhood home. But, her recruiter sent an email to Dr. Craig Brackett, the other breast surgeon at Coastal Breast Center. “The email was sent to an address he rarely uses, and neither of us have any idea how it worked out,” Dr. Mislowsky laughed. “I came here over the Thanksgiving holiday, met Dr. Brackett and fell in love with the area. For a small community, we have the best, state of the art treatments and are on the cutting edge of new advances in care. To find all of this in one place was amazing.” When I asked what a typical patient’s experience was like, Dr. Mislowsky was eager to describe her caring team. “Patients are generally referred to us after an abnormal mammogram or finding by their doctor. We try to do a biopsy the first time they visit us and get the results within a few days. By the time we make the diagnosis, we have built a rapport with the patient. It’s important for our patients to meet the entire team – the radiation oncologists, oncologists, nurses and our support staff.” If surgery is needed, Dr. Mislowsky or Dr. Brackett will be the

ones to operate, and the center’s multidisciplinary tumor board makes recommendations, based on the individual patient, for any further treatment, such as chemotherapy or radiation. “A positive outlook, good care and family support can definitely affect a patient’s outcome,” Dr. Mislowsky told me. When she needs a break from the seriousness of her work, Dr. Mislowsky turns to her husband of two years, Scott Cook, who was raised in Murrells Inlet and works as a shrimper out of Georgetown. The couple just finished building a home in Pawleys Island. “When I feel stressed it’s hard not to take my work home. It’s much harder with the younger patients, but actually, once a person is diagnosed, at least now we can do something.”

The couple enjoys weekend potlucks with friends and at least one big trip a year. “We went to New Zealand for our honeymoon, that was amazing, and the next year we went to the Galapagos.” Dr. Mislowsky also loves to read for pleasure. “I like local authors and keep a book on tape going in my car. I minored in literature in college and still love it.” Thanksgiving dinner will be held at Scott and Angela’s new home. “We’ll have a traditional Italian and northern dinner, including a pasta dish, such as lasagna or manicotti.” Both enjoy cooking – Scott, of course, supplies the fresh seafood. I asked what she was most grateful for this year, and Dr. Mislowsky was quick to answer. “My parents – they have always been behind me and supported me in whatever I’ve done – school, tennis, moving. They are a big reason I’m here, in order to live closer to them. I am also thankful for finding a generous caring husband who is supportive of my career, and grateful to have found my niche in a job that I love. I’m blessed to enjoy going to work every day - to do this kind of work is humbling.” Tidelands Coastal Carolina Breast Center has three locations: 8203 Nigels Drive in Myrtle Beach, 4181 Highway 17 in Murrells Inlet and 2405 N Fraser Street Georgetown. Contact them by calling 843-651-3308 or visit www.tidelandshealth.org.

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Profiles

Paying it Forward Claudia Berner

Grand Strand Homewatch Caregivers Describe yourself in a few sentences. I’m driven to make a difference in people’s lives. When I worked in the corporate world, I was a mentor and loved helping people with their careers; now I devote my life to helping our clients stay in their homes where they are nurtured and loved. Since we lost my father, I live with my mother and help her stay independent. My pets are very important to me as well; I have three dogs and two cats that I adore - their unconditional love is such a treasure. What do you reach for first at the Thanksgiving table? Who prepared it? Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday! Dinner is usually at my home with my mother and my business partner and close friend, Julia Hasser, plus any of our friends that can’t be with their families. Julia cooks the turkey – and it is always delicious! There are so many Thanksgiving foods I love; corn pudding from a friend’s recipe, my mother’s recipe for creamed onions, and the list goes on and on! When writing thank you notes – hand written or digital? Why? Definitely handwritten, even though I have the worst handwriting! A handwritten note is intimate, personal and heartfelt. My mother used to complain about my handwriting, so I started typing notes to her – it wasn’t long until she asked me to start handwriting them again.

Give us three things in your life that make you stop and say “thank you” – and why you chose them. Most certainly my amazing mom and dad: My dad challenged and inspired me throughout his life. When he was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, my mom and I were determined to honor his wish to remain in his home throughout his final illness. The experience inspired me to open Grand Strand Homewatch Caregivers. I’m also very thankful for my furbabies who give me so much joy. Last, but not least, I’m very grateful for my dear friend and business partner, Julia Hasser. She recently retired from teaching high school math and is now able to help me run our business full time. What makes Grand Strand Homewatch Caregivers unique? I think the key is in our caregivers. We are very careful to select people who have a passion for helping others. When I interview, I hear the most amazing stories – some of our caregivers have children with disabilities, some have cared for their own aging parents – but all have a calling to help people remain in their homes and live with dignity. This truly is the hardest job you’ll ever love. Grand Strand Homewatch Caregivers serves Horry and Georgetown Counties. Contact them by calling 843-299-0291 or visit www.homewatchcaregivers.com/myrtle-beach/grand-strand.

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Voice

The Value of a Good Apple by Celina Colby

I start to get the itch just before the leaves turn. It’s late September, maybe early October. The weather has cooled down to that perfect 60-degree temperature and every storefront is touting scarecrows and decorative pumpkins. This is the blissful time in New England when Boston residents are over the sweltering summer but haven’t yet settled into their customary winter bitterness. I start wearing plaid flannel and cozy sweaters, heck I even break down and have a pumpkin spice latte. Fall is my favorite season, and I’m reveling in the two week perfection before it gets too cold to go outside. “We have to go apple picking,” I say to my friend Jenni over an apple-themed brunch. “Yeah, that would be really fun,” she agrees, and we settle into a debate about cider donuts versus apple pie. As a born-and-bred New Englander, I know how to do fall. My sweater collection is 90% of my wardrobe. I’ve mastered the perfect cocoa-to-marshmallow ratio. I’ve fought people for the biggest pumpkin and won. I don’t mess around here, and apple picking is one of my favorite parts of the season. The first hurdle is transportation. Jenni and I both live in the city, and everyone knows the good apple picking orchards start at least ten miles out (though realistically you should head to New Hampshire or Vermont for the best batches). We consider our options. Walking is definitely out; I need to wear my heeled booties for maximum autumnal style. Ubering would be too expensive and driving is out of the question as my time in the city has all but beaten any driving capabilities out of me. We contemplate hitchhiking on a rogue hayride but decide those drivers are too unreliable. We’re researching hot air balloons when I get a call from my cousin Ava. “I’m thinking we should go apple picking. You can bring your friend Jenni, and we can get some cute photos together.” Bless the Apple Picking Gods. The next hurdle is the outfit. How to strike the perfect balance between festive fall and stylish sophisticate? After all, one rogue

pair of Timberlands can have you on call for a neighboring construction job. I go through what must be fifteen outfits the night before. Pinterest says I can’t go apple picking without the perfect outfit, and my friend’s Instagrams of quaint farmhouses and bushels of fall food are already giving me social media envy. Ultimately I decide on a red flannel button down (classic) with a pair of black leather shorts (trendy). The night before our adventure I fall asleep imagining a day something like the perfect apple picking memories of my youth. As a young twenty-something fresh out of school, I’m transitioning into adulthood while longing for a last taste of childhood. I imagine picking pounds of apples and then turning them into pies and scones and tarts. In this fantasy I leave out the part where my studio apartment has barely enough kitchen to fry an egg never mind bake a pie. That doesn’t matter, somehow pies will be made. On the day of, I slip into my pre-approved outfit and the three of us drive out to the orchard. It has the ideal grey wood shack filled with cider and goodies where we purchase our overpriced, under-sized picking bags. It has the next-door pumpkin patch and the casually parked tractor. Aesthetically it’s all fitting into my master plan. But as we head out to the orchard a farmer stops us. “Did Colleen inside tell you about the apples?” We shake our heads. “The apple trees have had to be sprayed with some very serious pesticides to get rid of a cockroach infestation,” he says. “So you can’t pick from them. You can, however, take apples out of the bins over there to fill up your bags. Those were picked before the spray.” We collectively glance at two large wooden crates full of leftover apples. “So we just paid $15 a bag and we cannot pick apples?” I say. He laughs, but I am not amused. “I guess that’s correct.”

He heads off in the direction of the tractor and I suddenly despise his baggy overalls and scuffed boots. No longer do I find his beat up straw hat charming. No longer is my perfect fall aesthetic falling into place. For a moment we stand quietly. “Well I guess we should get some of the apples,” says Ava. We trudge over to the bin and start filling our bags with the traitor apples. After a while Jenni speaks up. “Maybe we should go into the Orchard anyway. We don’t have to pick the apples but we can take some photos and see what’s up there.” We agree and head into the chemical minefield, our bright, cheery red shirts hitting the landscape like overripe fruit. Our pictures turn into a large-scale photo shoot rivaling America’s Next Model. Before I know it I’m climbing empty crates and posing dramatically with a perfect, poisoned apple we find on a tree in the back. We’re running around the field getting action shots and throwing sticks up at the trees trying to knock down the most photo-ready apples. Ava and I take the first photo together we’d had since childhood (arranged family photos aside) and Jenni, our chief photographer, exercises her artistic license on important matters such as hip popping and Beyonce impressions. Hours later we collapse on a rotting picnic bench to eat our weight in cider donuts and review the day’s photographic plunder. Our bags of impostor apples lay forgotten beside us. I never made apple pie. In fact I haven’t turned my oven on since I moved into my apartment two years ago. But I discovered that I had all those cherished memories of apple picking not because I wore the right shirt or crafted the perfect tweet about it, but because I spent them with people I loved. Oftentimes making lasting memories isn’t about having the right aesthetic; it’s about walking into a toxic chemical environment with some good friends.

Celina Colby Celina Colby is a Boston based writer and the founder of the style blog “Trends and Tolstoy.”

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Congratulations to Coastal Youth Ballet Theatre (CYBT) as they celebrate 10 years of producing The Nutcracker. The entire family will be entranced by this amazing production, featuring spectacular scenery and sets along with fabulous and colorful costumes, making this age-old tradition sparkle like new. With a cast of eighty of the area’s most talented young dancers and the support of guest community members, the charming Nutcracker Christmas story is brought to life once more. Coastal Youth Ballet Theatre’s founder, Liza Mata is excited to announce that this year’s event will be held at Wheelwright Auditorium at Coastal Carolina University on December 11- 15, 19 and 22, 2015. To get your tickets, call 843-651-2006 or visit www.coastalyouthballettheatre.org.

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Profiles

Graceful Living: Sharon Davis Shades and Draperies

Describe yourself in three sentences. I love people –especially children -- my husband and I have six children between us, 12 grandchildren and one great-grandchild on the way! Gardening is one of my favorite pastimes. My mother gave me a hydrangea years ago, and I’m currently rooting 40 cuttings from that plant – I’ll give them away next spring! I also teach Sunday school at St. Mary’s Catholic Church in Georgetown. What do you reach for first at the Thanksgiving table? Who prepared it? The first thing I reach for is the hand of the person sitting next to me for our blessing. We circle up the 16-20 people and give thanks before we eat. The meal is usually at my house, and everyone brings something. Of course there is always much too much food, and I buy big plastic containers for everyone to fill up as they leave. I really enjoy having people over and feeding them! When writing thank you notes – hand written or digital? Why? Handwritten! I like keeping the notes I receive and have a drawer full of cards I’ve been given. Over the past few years, I’ve started keeping the cards I give my husband as well – I tried giving him the same cards over and over, but he caught on. [laughing]

Give us three things in your life that make you stop and say “thank you” – and why you chose them. There are so many, but my life, the people in it and God are the first three that come to mind. When I wake up in the morning, I stop and listen – and say thank you. Then, it’s time to get up and go! What makes Shades and Draperies unique? We are a design firm that specializes in beautiful custom made window treatments and bed coverings, including custom drapery, roman shades, valances, bed treatments as well as re-upholstery. Our fabric section has endless possibilities! We are also a Hunter Douglas Gallery dealer -- this means we have the very latest in shutters, shades and blinds that our industry has to offer, including motorized products. All proudly made right here in the U.S.A. I have been working side by side with my daughter, Sandy, for over 34 years now, and we absolutely love what we do! Our customers become our friends and helping them to make their home both functional and beautiful is very rewarding. Located at 4905 Highway 17, Unit D, in Murrells Inlet, Shades and Draperies is open Tuesday through Friday from 10 am - 5 pm and Saturday from 10:30 am - 3 pm. Contact them by calling 843-651-8177 or visit www.shadesanddraperies.com.

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Voice

The Thank-You Note That Made the Difference by Janey Womeldorf

I was eight years old and watching TV. The Pan Am Airways plane landed on the tarmac and out stepped three air stewardesses; they oozed with glamour. The trio glided down the steps and then, bookended by two suave pilots, sashayed and laughed their way through the airport. Envious and admiring heads couldn’t help but turn as the handsome crew marched by in their crisp, made-to-measure uniforms and beaming smiles. They travelled the world, stayed in exotic places and represented the good life. The image etched itself in my giddy, eight-year old brain, and I knew instantly that was what I wanted to do when I grew up; I wanted to travel, I wanted their life, and I wanted their uniform. At 19, I went to travel college. At 20, I got my first job working for a worldwide travel agency, and at 25, I got married. Within a month, I quit the travel-agency job I had adored for the last five years to move to Germany with my new husband. I loved my job, but I loved my husband more, and trusted that new job opportunities awaited. I desperately hoped, however, they would be with an airline. I had flown many times, and the company that stood out for me was Delta. I had loved them as a customer, and knew I would respect them even more as an employee. They were my one and only pick, and I called their job hotline daily. Three months later, my diligence paid off. The job wasn’t for a flight attendant, as they were now called, but for a reservations and ticket agent. It was similar to what I had been doing for the last five years (and loved), I still got a uniform, and the hours and location were perfect. The job was made for me. As I dropped my completed application in the mail, my entire body shook with hope. Two weeks later, I heard back. “I have an interview,” I shrieked to my husband. I did my research, practiced my interview questions; even bought a new suit. The night before the interview, I printed

off extra copies of my resume just in case there was more than one person interviewing me, and placed them in my black, leather portfolio along with my list of questions. The day of the interview I was so anxious to get there, I left two hours early. When they called my name, I took a deep breath, walked in and firmly shook the hands of the two hiring managers who would be interviewing me. The next hour passed in a blur and before I knew it, I was tucking their business cards in my portfolio and shaking their hands goodbye. On the drive home, I replayed the interview, their questions and my answers over and over in my spinning head. It went well, and it was hard not to get my hopes up. Once inside my front door, I headed straight for my box of thank you cards. I had never sent post-interview, thank-you cards before, but I wanted this job so badly, I would leave no stone unturned. I wrote both managers a card, thanking them for their time while reiterating my interest in the position and respect for their airline. With fingers crossed, I dropped them in the mail. The worst part of any job search is the agonizing waiting to hear after the interview. I checked the mailbox every hour, every day and screamed when I finally spotted a Delta logo. With my heart beating outside of my skin, I tore at the envelope begging for it to be good news. Tears filled my eyes before I even finished the first sentence, and I felt my legs almost buckle under the crush of disappointment; I was gutted. Despite my heartbreak, I went back to my box of thank-you cards and picked out a new one for each manager. I thanked them both for letting me know, and wrote that although I was disappointed not to have been selected, I hoped they would keep me in mind for any future positions; I then wished their chosen candidate the best of luck. I dropped my two thank you cards in the mail and trudged back to the house with tears in my eyes.

Six weeks later, the phone rang. It was one of the managers. “Are you still interested in the position?” he asked calmly. “Are you kidding,” I wanted to scream down the phone, “I have wanted to work for the airlines since I was eight years old; of course I’m interested!” Instead, I responded with a composed but enthusiastic, “Absolutely.”

Those two managers interviewed multiple applicants that week, and to this day, I believe the only reason they called me back six weeks later, was not because of how I answered their questions, my new suit or my fancy portfolio, it was because what set me apart was that I took the time to write and send them thank-you notes.

Two weeks later, I got my official airline-employee badge; three weeks later, I got my appointment to get measured by their tailor, and four weeks later, my crisp, new, airline uniform arrived. I had never owned or worn anything made-to-measure before and it fit like Cinderella’s gloves. I sashayed through the house like one of those Pan Am air stewardesses from the TV all those years ago and within moments, I was eight years old all over again. I bubbled over with disbelief and joy and all I could do was scream with excitement.

I believe sending those cards changed the course of my life and my career, and the eight-year old in me will be forever glad

Working for an airline enriched my life in ways I never thought possible. I loved my life; my job satisfaction was off the charts, and my husband and I got to travel to places we only dreamed of.

that I did.

Janey Womeldorf Janey Womeldorf once went to work wearing different shoes. She now freelance writes and scribbles away in Orlando, Florida. It’s probably best.

Voice

Pressing Pause by Diane Stark

“You might be wondering why there’s a treadmill on the stage this week,” my pastor said one Sunday morning. “I’m going to use it as an object lesson, and my good friend Kyle is going to demonstrate for us.” Kyle walked up to the stage and got on the treadmill. “Take it easy on me, Brett,” he said, grinning at our pastor. Brett shook his head and started the treadmill at a slow place. “So this is Kyle, going about his day. He has a job, of course.” Brett handed Kyle a briefcase and a cup from Starbucks. “And he has a wife and two kids.” He handed Kyle a framed wedding photo and two baby dolls. “And we all know how busy life gets once you have kids,” Brett said. He reached over and sped up the treadmill by a notch or two. Kyle’s eyes grew wide as he tried to hold all of the stuff in his arms while keeping up with the treadmill. But Brett wasn’t done. “Kyle, you look pretty fit,” he said. “I’ll bet you work out.” He handed him a dumb bell and said, “Gotta hit the gym every day.” For good measure, he sped up the treadmill a few more notches. At this point, Kyle was very nearly running, and he was barely holding onto all of his stuff. But Brett still wasn’t finished. “And you’re a Christian so you have obligations here at church too,” Brett continued. He handed him a plastic soccer ball and a package of disposable diapers. “Wasn’t it your turn to help in the toddler room this morning?” He grinned at Kyle. “And you know how fast some of those kids can run,” he said as he cranked up the treadmill again. Kyle tried his best to keep up. But as he ran faster, he dropped one of the baby dolls. “Way to go, Kyle,” Brett said. “You just dropped one of your kids.” Kyle started laughing and everything else slipped from his hands. Quickly, Brett stopped the treadmill and thanked Kyle for his help. “In case you haven’t figured it out yet,” Brett said, “my sermon this morning is about the evils of going through life at a breakneck pace.” I had figured it out, and I was hoping the person next to me was listening carefully as well. My husband’s life looked exactly like Brett’s treadmill demonstration. “You’re doing that same thing, except you’re carrying five baby dolls, instead of just two,” I whispered. Eric shook his head and whispered back, “Yeah, but I’m not carrying the dumb bell. I don’t have time to work out.” I snickered. “Maybe not, but you’re running on that treadmill with all of those other responsibilities, plus you’re carrying your dad.” Eric sobered at the mention of his ailing father whom he helped to care for every morning before going to work. “You’re right. I’m overdoing it. And I think you are too.”

It was true. For the past six months, we’d been living in survival mode. Last April, Eric’s dad had suffered yet another stroke, and his mom could no longer care for him by herself. Caregiving had become a part of our routine. Eric reached for my hand. “It’s time to press pause on the treadmill.” The following weekend, one of Eric’s sisters came into town to take care of their dad so that we could get away. It wasn’t a vacation in the true sense of the word. We stayed in a hotel only an hour from home, and we only spent two nights. But that didn’t matter. It was absolutely luxurious. Eric and I lingered over our morning coffee, something we never got to do at home. We had uninterrupted conversations, a miracle in itself. We walked downtown and shared an Italian ice. We ate good food and watched funny movies. It was nothing special, but at the same time, it was incredibly special. Because while our time away was brief, it re-energized our marriage. It reminded me that my husband is an amazing man, and I am so blessed to be married to him. So many people need my husband’s time right now. His job needs him, his parents need him and our kids need him. Sometimes, I feel like I’m just another person who needs something from him, another demand on him, another drain on his time. But our weekend away reminded me that Eric doesn’t think of me or our marriage as another obligation. In fact, it’s just the opposite. He manages his other responsibilities more easily because of our relationship. I was concerned about being another drain on him, but he said he draws strength from our time together. Turns out, he needs me as much as I need him. It was a wonderful realization. Sometimes, in life, our problems are so much easier to see than our blessings. The problems seem bigger, the blessings seem fewer. That’s not reality, but often, our blessings get overshadowed by our challenges. And that’s when we have to press pause on the treadmill. Just stop and say “Enough is enough.” Take a day or two – or even just a few hours – and look for our blessings. The blessings are always there. But pressing pause makes them a whole lot easier to see.

Diane Stark 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.

Shabby Chic

Profiles

Angie Rodriguez & Roxann Bartz

Two Sisters with Southern Charm Describe yourself in a few sentences. Angie: Roxann and I are different people, but very much the same! We think so much alike that often we finish each other’s sentences! Roxann: We are originally from Arkansas, but moved here together from Pennsylvania. Angie and I have three other siblings and we are all very close – we’re also a very artistic family, from painting to woodworking and everything in between. Angie: We even spend our day off together. We love going to the beach on Sunday in the warmer months – and we don’t do anything store related, this is our day to relax. What do you reach for first at the Thanksgiving table? Who prepared it? Angie: Always the hot rolls and they’re not even homemade. I just like to butter them while they’re hot. The holiday dinner is typically at my house and some years we have the whole family from across the United States. Roxann: When you move to the beach you have more company! [laughing] My favorite dish is Angie’s sweet potato casserole, it’s like a dessert. When writing thank you notes – hand written or digital? Why? Angie: I handwrite my thank you notes. It shows you take the time to thank the giver – it’s real. Roxann: I write them and get them ready, but never seem to make it to the post office. For me, it’s easier to call people and thank them personally. Give us three things in your life that make you stop and say “thank you” – and why you chose them. Roxann: Definitely my family. If you don’t have family, you have nothing. They are always there for you. And, my pets - I have a Springer spaniel and a Boston terrier that are my babies. Angie: That’s exactly what I would’ve said, see how much alike we are? Family and friends, really relationships in general, are so important. And pets are another reason to be thankful – I recently lost my sweet lab of 14 years and miss him so much. What makes Two Sisters with Southern Charm unique? Roxann: We opened in 2013 after moving here from Pennsylvania – we had a small space in an antique co-op there that evolved into a 2200 square foot area. Catering to our customers is one of our favorite things to do –if we don’t have what you’re looking for, we’ll try to find it or make it for you. Angie: We enjoy what we do – there is a lot of excitement when we work together. Both of us love a wide variety of things – from rusty to girly – everything we have means something, and we put a lot of love into every piece. Roxann: We do buy what we love – much of our buying is done at estate sales and auctions. Some people may look at a worn item and think it’s worthless, but we see it as something that was loved and well used.

Angie: Our merchandise is not just from our area; our family is always shopping for us. When they come, they always bring us items they find. It’s a family joke that “there is no free room and board.” Two Sisters with Southern Charm is located at 2520 Highway 17 Business in Garden City. Hours are Monday - Wednesday, 9:30 am - 5 pm and Thursday - Saturday, 9:30 am – 4 pm. Contact Angie and Roxann at 717-451-2856, www.twosisterswithsoutherncharm.com or find them on Facebook.

100% Natural Wooden Watches

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plan on attenDing our annual tree-ligHting ceremonY on november 29tH! Hammock Weaving Demonstrations • In-House Candle Pouring Tastings in Many of the Shops • Fun-Filled Playground www.The

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Two Sisters With Southern Charm Vintage &Shabby Chic Home Décor

Mark Your Calender for Our Biggest Event of the Year! Christmas Open House December 5th 9:30 - 4:00

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Refreshments! Give - A - Ways! Discounts throughout the Store! Great time to get your home ready for the holidays and pick up a gift or gift certificate for those on your shopping list!

Voice

Blue Suede Shoes and a Blue-Eyed Baby by Ann Ipock

Sandwich generation is a term given to Baby Boomers who are sandwiched between aging parents and our adult children and grandchildren. I was recently interviewed by our newspaper book editor as part of this new phenomenon, the sandwich generation—something I’m smack dab in the middle of. For instance, this year has brought challenges with two hospitalizations in our family. In February, Katie spent several days in the hospital in Charlotte with pregnancy complications. She had low amniotic fluid which was discovered about the sixth month. I’m happy to report all turned out fine as baby Sarah is healthy and happy. Katie delivered three days shy of 37 weeks, so technically, Sarah was a preemie. She was born March 6, weighing 4 lbs. 9 oz. at 18 ½ inches. But she was a fighter—trying to lift her head hours after birth—and did not have to be placed in the NICU, endearing our love even further. I memorized every square inch of her those two weeks of a blessed stay in their home, taking in her baby smells, touching that powdery soft skin, watching her blue eyes open a little more each day, gently rubbing her blonde hair, and listening to those newborn baby sounds. I kept a dairy to read to her when she’s a little older. As a side note, Katie and Michael moved back to Wilmington in May, a double joy—I mean, triple joy! I see our precious angel (now weighing over 14 lbs.) often and love babysitting her! As for Russell? OMG, he is over the moon! Often times, we’ll open our cell phones and call each other’s name, “Russell, look!” at her adorable photos. Or, “Ann, look!” at the newest video. It has been nearly ten years since our last grandchild was born. Carly is now 10 and Madison is 14. Let me just say that in ten years lots of things have changed! For instance, you don’t cover them up with a blanket when they sleep. You don’t give them solid foods for six months. You don’t use a bumper pad in the cradle (or the crib). And the campaign, “back to sleep” means just that; don’t lay babies on their tummy. Just as things have settled down with Sarah, fast forward to August when my 87 year old dad was hospitalized with pneumonia here in Wilmington. (He lives an hour away.) Navigating the health care system is tricky enough, but the staff and doctors (Gerontologist, GI and Pulmonologist) were great! What wasn’t great was waiting and wondering each day for their rounds at the hospital, some being 8 am

and others, 6 pm. He was discharged after ten days with home health care, and we hired a private 24/7 service since he is now on oxygen. In addition, we now have four adults (we siblings) taking turns visiting and helping out. My brother lives in the same neighborhood but we three sisters live out of town. Dad continues to mend (thank God) and surprises us daily with his optimism and sharp wit. He often rides around with my brother when Steve has a real estate appraisal to complete. In fact, Dad’s the first one in the car when offered an outing. But it’s true that each day brings its own worries, in general. Here in my home, a broken ice maker in the fridge and a leaking dishwasher (resulting in buying all new appliances) and a dying lawn that had to be replaced, plus Russell recently broke his big toe. I had a bout of a stomach virus. In other words, life goes on. Gardening, traveling and my super-fun (and crazy!) aerobics class have kept me sane. Not to mention my 45 year high school reunion last weekend. The two best parts? Reconnecting with old friends then—and now on Facebook. The other was walking on the beach the next morning with Russell, enjoying the bright sun and September sky, waves rolling in, collecting shells, and reminiscing about the night before and the future that lies ahead. And that future includes the oldest person in our family (Dad) and the youngest (Sarah) being watched over, cuddled and loved extra hard because right now they need it the most. But I’m happy to be in the middle. A recent video I made with my phone showed Sarah chatting away. (Never mind the fact that the file is too large. Ack! Don’t even get me started.) Her daily feats astound me. Katie said Sarah held out her arms recently as if to say, “Pick me up.” She loves to be read to, and she adores her 70 pound puppy, Gus, who makes her laugh. When I lay her head on my shoulder and sing, gently rocking her to sleep, I feel pure bliss. And Dad is just about strong enough to go on our pre-planned cruise to the Bahamas in October—his treat. He’s being weaned off the oxygen (mainly using it at night) and is picking out his clothes early, being the man about town (and a former shoe store owner). He told me yesterday he was going to be sure and pack his blue suede shoes because he intends to dance like there is no tomorrow. What a joy to be able to witness that!

Ann Ipock

Ann Ipock, the first Sasee hat recipient, is the author of the “Life is Short”humor trilogy. She currently writes for four publications and lives in Wilmington, North Carolina, with her husband, Russell. www.annipock.com

First snow

by bob Timberlake Unique Gifts & Home Accessories

We are framing till Christmas Eve!

843-314-0793

10729 Ocean Hwy. (Next to Bistro 217), Pawleys Island Mon. - Sat. 10am - 5pm 39

Antiques • Avon • Baby & Toddler Boutique Collectibles • Country Decor Fabrics + Notions • Wood Products Unique Handmade Crafts • Handbags • Jewelry WoodWick Candles • Vintage Items • Glassware

843-238-3622 • www.homespuncrafters.com 114-A Hwy. 17 N. • Surfside Shopping Center, Surfside Beach Mon - Fri: 9am to 6pm • Sat: 10am to 5pm • Sun: 1pm to 5pm

Bells for Christmas

“Set in a small Southern town in 1956, this heartwarming tale of a widowed pastor and his young daughter contains comedy, mystery, and romance. Sure to please people of all ages!” Dates: Fri. anD sat., Dec. 18th anD 19th, 7pm sun., Dec. 20th, 2:30pm tickets: aDults $12, age 12 yrs. anD unDer $8 Tickets may be purchased by calling 843-344-3312, or by making checks out to Bells for Christmas and mailing to same at Bells For Christmas, P.O. Box 1560, Georgetown, S.C. 29440. Be sure to specify how many seats, which day, and include return address. Winyah auditorium • 1200 highmarket St. • georgetoWn, S.C. 29440 ViSit our WebSite: Winyahauditorium.org

Granite / Marble countertops • All types of flooring • Travertine • Marble • Hardwood • Lighting Furniture • Natural Stone Pavers • Custom Cabinetry • Wallpaper Outdoor Kitchens • Fireplace Surrounds

Showcase Home

Showcase Home: 3800 Waterford Drive, Myrtle Beach, SC Main Showroom: 1620 S. Irby St. Florence, SC 29505 • Mon-Fri: 9am-6pm, Sat: 10am-4pm For Viewing oF Home Call For appointment only • 843-621-0649 • 843-992-1900 www.thegranitestore.net

The Best of

Everything Shops and Fine Consignments

Jewelry, Gifts, Accessories and Furniture

Long Winter Nights with the Moon and Stars Christmas Open House Friday, November 27 10AM - 5PM Saturday, November 26 10AM - 4PM

The Blue Heron 3491 Highway 9 East, Little River • 843-734-0730 Wednesday-Friday 10:30-5:30 & Saturday 10:30-4:30 www.facebook.com/theboellc

Gallery

1780 Chandlers Lane, Sunset Beach, NC 28468 (910) 575-5088 • www.blueherongallery-nc.com

North Myrtle Beach Internal Medicine, Inc.

Skin Care Department

2021 North Myrtle Point Blvd : Suite 101 North Myrtle Beach, SC 29582 843-663-2100

REJUVAPEN: Micro - Needling (collagen induction) • Permanent Make Up • Microdermabrasion • Facials • Peels • Waxing • Tinting ® • Obagi Products • Guinot Products

• North Myrtle Beach Internal Medicine is a registered agent with certified technicians for the Guinot treatments & products. • Guinot products represent Sophistication and State of the Art Technology in the skin care industry, utilizing pharmaceutical grade standards. • Hydradermie Treatments are unique Skin Care Services with usage of Guinot Products & its machine. • Age Summum voted one of the top five facials in the United Kingdom for 2015. ONLY REPRESENTATIVE IN THE GRAND STRAND

November2015 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 1

Taste of Georgetown,

featuring 20 restaurants, to benefit the Family Justice Center, 12:30-3 pm, Front Street, Georgetown. For more info, call 843-546-3926 or visit www.hammockcoastsc.com.

7- 8/14 -15

Art in the Park, 10am-4pm,

7-8 Chapin Park, 14-15 Valor Park, Market Common. For more info, call 843 446-3830 or visit www.artsyparksy.com.

Long Bay Symphony Youth Orchestra Fall Concert,

7:30 pm, Myrtle Beach High School Music & Arts Center. For more info, call 843-448-8379 or visit www.longbaysymphony.com.

12 - 15

33rd Annual Dickens Christmas Show, Myrtle

Beach Convention Center, Thurs. 9 am-6 pm, Fri. & Sat. 9 am-8 pm, Sun. noon-6 pm. For more info, call 800-261-5991 or visit www.dickenschristmasshow.com.

13 17 21 22

Bag Ladies Luncheon to benefit the Art Museum of Myrtle Beach, The Dunes Beach and Golf Club, 11am-1pm, $50 per person. For more info, call 843-238-2510 or visit www.myrtlebeachartmuseum.org.

Moveable Feast, Heidi Vukov MB Annual Direct SellHoliday Concert, ers Christmas Open House; Serendipity Singers, 3 pm, discusses, Bonjour Y’all: Heidi’s Fusion Cooking on the South Carolina Coast, 11 am, Inlet Affairs, $25. For more info, call 843-235-9600 or visit www.classatpawleys.com.

open to the public, 9am-5pm. Clarion Hotel, free. Shop for Christmas and win door prizes! For more info, call 843-903-0924. info, visit www.ds-stride.org/ grandstrandbuddywalk.

Trinity Presbyterian Church, Surfside, free. For more info, call 843-357-2561 or visit www.serendipitysingersofsc.com.

27 - 1/3/16 28 12/4 - 7 12/5 Brookgreen Garden’s Holiday Exhibits, free with

garden admission. For more info, call 843-235-6000 or visit www.brookgreen.org.

Intracoastal Christmas Boat Regatta, 5 pm start at

Little River south to Dock Holidays Marina. For more info, call 843 249-8888 or visit www.christmasregatta.com..

29th Annual Winter Arts & Crafts Show, Springmaid

Beach Resorts, Fri. & Sat. 9 am- 5 pm, Sun. 9 am-3 pm, free admission and parking. For more info, call 843-770-6895 or visit www.springmaidbeach.com.

Santa on the Beach, Myrtle

Beach State Park, 10 am - noon on the beach and 1 pm - 3 pm on the pier. Enjoy arts, crafts, games and bring your camera for the perfect holiday photo – pets on leashes welcome. For more info, call 843-238-0874.

Voice

Thanksgiving in Israel by Cynthia Buchbinder

My father and I stood at the counter of the local butcher shop. The owner turned to us. “Yes?” “I’d like to buy a turkey,” I said. “The breast or the legs and neck?” he asked. “I want to buy a whole turkey.” “Ah. For a whole turkey, I have to order one special. Maybe I could have it in two days?” He shrugged. Oh, no! Thanksgiving was in four days. What if it didn’t arrive in time? Years before, my husband and I had decided to move to Israel. We were blessed with two baby girls, an 18 month old and a 3 month old, so I struggled with diapers and learned to cook on the tiny European appliances. The days flowed past in a never-ending stream of dishes and laundry and stumbling over Hebrew when shopping. . The children grew up as little Israelis, speaking Hebrew better than English. Even though Israelis are very nice to their mothers, Mother’s Day itself, alas, passed with no advertisements reminding us to call Mother. Even though we’re thankful for many things, Thanksgiving passed without a special meal. The Fourth of July turned into the fifth and sixth and seventh seamlessly. Then one year after we had been abroad many years, my parents called: they were coming for a visit in November. “And the exciting part is that we can have the Thanksgiving meal with you!” crowed my mother over the phone. “Oh, of course,” I said, swallowing. I had just a few months ago forgotten to call on Mother’s Day. How could I disappoint her by telling her that we didn’t celebrate Thanksgiving across the pond?

The holiday had somehow slipped into a fog of childhood memories. I had grown up with lavish Thanksgiving meals: giant butterball turkeys, bowls of crystal red cranberry sauce, mounds of mashed potatoes and mountains of parker house rolls. I remember setting the table with our best china and the goblets that we only took out a few times a year for special occasions. I especially remember inserting linen napkins into the glazed ceramic napkin holders that I had made in the Camp Fire Girls camp and placing them next to each plate. My mother was no cook: it was always a miracle when the turkey came out looking like a turkey, so when she took the turkey out of the oven, she always called the children over to gather around the glistening, plump bird to admire it and compliment her. Now I, who was no great shakes as a cook either, had to come up with a Thanksgiving dinner. I hoped the turkey would come in time; it would be hard to present a traditional Thanksgiving table without one. Two days later, I went, with a thumping heart, to collect the turkey. The butcher reached into his freezer, and, thank G-d, pulled out a turkey, a long, stringy thing that dangled from his hand. I gulped. It didn’t look like a butterball – it looked more like a chicken that had shot up from childhood to a lanky teenager. I came into the house, and held up the turkey. “Ooh, Mommy, what’s that?” asked my 12 year old daughter. “It’s a turkey,” I said. “We’re going to make a Thanksgiving dinner for Grandma and Grandpa, and turkey is the main course.” “I’m sure it will be fine,” said my mother.

I pulled the turkey out of the bag and tried to fold the legs over the body to fit into the pan of my small European oven. The oven bags wouldn’t go over it, so I dusted it with spices, put aluminum foil over it and hoped for the best. But when I tried to fit it into the oven, the top brushed the top of the oven and the legs stuck out the front. I had a sudden inspiration: I called my neighbor who had an American-sized oven, and explained that I was making a Thanksgiving dinner for my parents. She was happy to let me put the turkey in her oven, and even promised to baste it and to call me when it was done. She was a good cook, so now at least I had no worries that it would burn.

2015 Historic Marion Christmas

Tour of Homes

Saturday, December 12, 2015 from 2pm-6pm

I managed the mashed potatoes fine, and even made some parker house rolls from the cookbook my mother had dredged up from my bookcase. Then I remembered the cranberry sauce. The only cranberries I had seen were dried ones, and I wasn’t at all sure I could make anything eatable from those on such short notice. I asked my parents if we could have applesauce and color it red. “Don’t color it red, dear,” said my mother. “We can have the meal without cranberry sauce.” When I brought the turkey over from my neighbor and put it on the table, I was a bit disappointed. It wasn’t the splendid, shining bird my mother had produced when I was a girl. The table was set with our best dishes, but we didn’t have linen napkins or pretty goblets. Then, as my father flourished the carving knife over the turkey and my husband took a picture, I looked around the table. My son was admiring my father’s carving technique. My mother was happily telling my daughters of Thanksgivings long ago, and they were hanging on her every word. I smiled.

2015 Featured Homes:

The Grove

Nathan & Stephanie Indergaard Rosewood Manor House Randy Floyd & Marion County Museum Dr. Alvin Abinsay Tom and Mary Jo Fuller Janice Lane Jerry & Janine Jordan

“Happy Thanksgiving,” I said.

Refreshments to be served at The Grove and Rosewood Manor House

Saturday, December 12, 2pm-6pm

Tickets $20

Cynthia Buchbinder Cynthia and her husband moved from America to Israel 28 years ago. They have eight children, six are married with children of their own and two are still at home.

Tickets Available at Marion Chamber, Marion Pilot Club Members Present ticket at any home on tour to receive tour book Proceeds to benefit Marion Chamber of Commerce & Marion Pilot Club Contact Marion Chamber of Commerce for more information: 423-3561

Antiques • Vintage Items • Collectibles Original Art • Books • Jewelry • New Gifts

MARION EMPORIUM

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Name

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• Custom Framing Available •

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A Sunset River Holiday

843-237-2631 11096 Ocean Hwy., Pawleys Island

Nov. 21 - Dec. 31, 2015 Please stop by for holiday refreshments during our Open House each Saturday

Like us on Facebook!

Ladies’ & ChiLdren’s CLothing Better QuaLity used Furniture uniQue deCorating items CoLLeCtiBLes • housewares

Upscale Consignment Shop 11115 Ocean Hwy., Pawleys Island (Next to Habaneros) • 843-237-8447 Monday-Saturday 10 am-5 pm • take2resale@yahoo.com

Monday - Saturday 10am - 5:30pm

Furniture

Celebrate the holidays with us! The Cypress Room is open on Thanksgiving and Christmas Day, featuring a traditional holiday dinner. Reservations required.

Now booking Holiday parties in the Cypress Room and Ballroom. Breakfast and dinner served daily Breakfast 7:30 am-10:00 am Dinner 5:30 pm-8:30 pm (Reservations recommended)

Casual Oceanfront Dining!

Home Décor Apparel Jewelry Custom Services Local Photography Holiday Open House Saturday, November 14

843-651-5560

6000 N. Ocean Blvd., Myrtle Beach, SC 29577 • 843-449-6406, xt. 0 islandvista.com

Taylor’s

“A Ladies Boutique”

Holiday Party? We’ve Got You Covered!

11412 Ocean Hwy. Pawleys Island (Across from Fresh Market) 843-237-9500 Mon.-Sat. 10 am-5:30 pm

4491 Hwy. 17 Business, Murrells Inlet (One Mile South of the Marsh Walk)

Tues - Sat 10 - 5:30

Gold • Silver • Diamonds • Gemstones

Watch us set your diamonds! Trade jobs welcome All work done on premises Most repairs done while you wait!

Handmade & Castings Engraving Pearl Restringing Watch Batteries and Watch Bands Monday - Friday : 9:30AM to 5:30PM Saturday : 9:30AM to 3:00PM 843-651-3517 • Inlet Crossing Shopping Center 3328 Hwy. 17 Bus. South, Murrells Inlet

Voice

Giving Thanks, Then and Now By Jeffrey Cohen As a child, I would watch the last few gold and orange leaves fall from the trees. The cool days of November warned us of a coming winter. Instead of mourning the passing of the sweet warmth of summer, we turned our thoughts to fall. As we happily dived into waist-high mounds of raked up color foliage or caught the sweet scent of burning leaves carried from one neighbor’s curb to the other on the chilled breeze of autumn, our thoughts settled on the first holiday of the season. Thanksgiving. I came from what you might call an “eating” family, where food was not only sustenance, but also the most joyous part of every celebration, the answer to every problem, the cure for every misery. And so, Thanksgiving was viewed as the grandest holiday of the year. First of all, it was the only time we would have turkey. These were the days before turkey bacon and turkey burgers. My mother would slather the bird with a mixture of olive oil, herbs and plenty of chopped garlic. Then she’d squeeze it into the refrigerator where it would marinade for several days. Early Thanksgiving morning, my father would make his usual stuffing-- a combination of turkey liver, bacon, onions, celery, apples, raisins and white bread, and spoon it into the bird that my mother would carefully sew closed. Then she’d slip the turkey into the oven. It took my mother years to figure out the best way to roast a turkey and still keep it moist and juicy, experimenting with a number of methods. She tried cooking it in a covered roasting pan, dressing it up in a brown paper bag, wrapping it in aluminum foil like some sort of astronaut, but she always returned to what was tried-and-true -- basting the old bird every ten minutes, just the way her mother used to. The choice of side dishes included varied vegetables, but there were certain traditional foods that needed to be included. Even though there were baked sweet potatoes, there had to be mashed potatoes as well. “Where else would you put the gravy?” my father would say as he poured the thick brown sauce into the white, fluffy crater he formed on his plate. There had to be rutabaga mixed with brown sugar and baked acorn squash halves drizzled with butter and honey. And no Thanksgiving meal would have been complete without canned jellied cranberry sauce slid whole, out of the can-- a shimmering red holiday cylinder. Dessert was always the same -- homemade pumpkin pie, created from the Jack-O-Lanterns we’d saved from Halloween.

The only thing that did change from year to year was the appetizer that started our dinner. If it had been a prosperous year and my dad, who had a seasonal job, was working regularly, dinner would begin with a ring of fresh shrimp hung lovingly around the edges of small glass cups filled with a mixture of catsup and horseradish. In a lean year, dinner began with small bowls of fruit cocktail. But no matter what was served, Thanksgiving was always a joyous gathering of our small family. We’d bow our heads as my mother wiped the sweat from her brow with her apron, clasped her hands together and offered thanks for everything we were lucky enough to have. Over the years, the size of the celebration increased with marriages and children and in-laws. But as the years passed by, our children and their children grew up. They began their own lives, carrying our tradition to all parts of the country, but they rarely had the chance to return home for the holiday. Last year, my wife and I were invited to celebrate with friends for Thanksgiving. Since it was just going to be the two of us home alone, we decided to accept the invitation. Being in someone else’s house for the holiday felt strange, but everyone at the rather large gathering was friendly and welcoming. We sat at a very long table, and to our surprise, our host brought out what he called a Thanksgiving bonnet. It was a tattered old hat fashioned in the shape of a turkey with colored construction paper, staples and glue. With its head leaning to one side and its twisted and bent tail feathers hanging on the other, the poor bird appeared to have been gobbling since their kids brought it home from grade school years earlier. Our host explained that their tradition was to pass this hat around the table. Each person was to place it upon their head and tell what they were thankful for. One by one, the hat went from head to head, each person giving their own thanks for a long lasting marriage, a speedy recovery from an operation, for a healthy newborn, an acceptance into college. With each passing testimony, I wondered just what I would say. When the hat reached me, I placed it onto my head and looked around at so many cheerful, warm, loving faces. Then it came to me. I smiled widely. “The thing that I’m most thankful for today? That you’ve invited us to be a part of your wonderful family on Thanksgiving.”

Jeffrey 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 contests, Vocabula’s Well Written Contest, National League of Pen Women Writing Competition, Southern California Genealogy Competition and Writers’ Weekly Contest.

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