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4

who’s who

PublisherDelores Blount

Sales & Marketing DirectorSusan Bryant

EditorLeslie Moore

Account ExecutivesAmanda Kennedy-Colie

Erica SchneiderGay Stackhouse

Celia Wester

Art DirectorTaylor Nelson

Photography DirectorPatrick Sullivan

Graphic ArtistsStephanie Holman

Scott Konradt

AccountingRonald Pacetti

Administrative AssistantLaura Lenhardt

Executive PublishersJim Creel

Bill HennecyTom Rogers

PO Box 1389Murrells Inlet, SC 29576

fax 843-626-6452 • phone 843-626-8911www.sasee.com • info@sasee.com

Sasee is published monthly and distributed free along the Grand Strand. For subscription info, visit sasee.com. 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 © 2014. All rights reserved. Reproduction of any material, in part or in whole, prepared byStrand Media Group, Inc. and appearing within thispublication is strictly prohibited. Title “Sasee” isregistered with the U.S. Patent & Trademark Office.

May2014

18 2726

28 34 38FeaturedMom on the Front Lines by Melissa Face . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8Flowers for Mom by Jeffery Cohen . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10Ready to Talk About It by Beth M. Wood. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 14The Gift of Time by Kim Seeley . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 20Apron Strings by Diane DeVaughn Stokes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 22Southern Snaps by Connie Barnard. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 26Defining Moments by Rose Ann Sinay. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 30A Better Version of Myself by Diane Stark. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 32My Favorite Mum Memories by Janey Womeldorf. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 36Sasee Kids . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 40

In This IssueRead It!. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 12Caring and Sharing: Cathy Altman, Mercy Care Hospice . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 18Family First: Elizabeth and Susan Darden, Darden Jewelers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 28Choosing Motherhood: Eve Benton Smith . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 34Bargain Beauty: Gail Roberson, Bloomingail’s Consignment . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 38May Calendar . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 50

Volume 13, Issue 5

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we’d love to hear from you!

You can reach us by:mail : P.O. Box 1389 Murrells Inlet, SC 29576phone: 843.626.8911email : info@sasee.comweb: www.sasee.com

It is with much sadness that we say goodbye to Tom Rogers, one of the Executive Publishers of Sasee Magazine and a principal partner in Strand Media Group. Tom passed away March 31, 2014.

Having worked with Tom since the late 1970s, first in radio and then in publishing, I truly valued his business advice, knowledge and friend-ship. Tom was a true gentleman and his word was as good as gold. If there was ever a business decision that I was not comfortable making on my own, I knew that he would be there with great insight, ready to listen and help me make the right decision. He was very open minded and very supportive in whatever ideas the staff came up with. Tom Rogers will truly be missed.

Delores Blount, Publisher, Strand Media Group

Letter from the Publisher

Love what you’re reading?Have suggestions?Let us know!

Pen & Brush

Seasons of Transformation, by Piper FreePiper Free is a graduating senior in Graphic Design at Mississippi

State University. Her illustration style is particularly drawn to using watercolor media, and painting is her favorite pastime. God is her primary inspiration for all of her work and seeking to glorify Him is her main goal. Her work, Seasons of Transformation, is descriptive of finding change within a person through the chang-ing seasons. As each season comes we are faced with transformation whether pro-gressing towards something better or digressing. As quickly as time elapses so, we too, are growing and changing. More of Piper’s work can be seen at piperfree.com, both graphic design and fine art medium. She is especially grateful for Brent Funderburk’s mentorship. For more inspiration she welcomes email at piperjofree@gmail.com

Professor Brent Funderburk led his Mississippi State University Watercolor students in a class project to create a cover for the May Sasee. All of the stu-dents’ work was amazing, and Sasee is so grateful for the time and talent of this wonderful group of young people. The winner, Piper Free, is pictured in the center.

Tom Rogers, August 8, 1936-March 31, 2014

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Dad threw up his white flag and surrendered to the safety of his bed-room. Once in there, he probably washed his hands several times, sprayed some Lysol and changed his t-shirt.

Meanwhile, the braver of the two soldiers trudged toward the room of contamination. I could hear her Dearfoam slippers scuffing against the carpet. That sound was more relieving than the hum of a helicopter to a castaway.

“What’s wrong honey? You sick?”I nodded and hung my limp head over the toilet.Mom rolled up the sleeves of her bathrobe and went to work. She ran

some water into a cup for me to rinse out my mouth. Then she prepared a cool cloth for my forehead.

“Can I have some medicine?“It’s a virus, honey. It’s going to have to run its course.”Throughout the night, I alternated between brief periods of sleep on the

bathroom floor and violent dry heaving. All the while, Mom was by my side, strok-ing my head and keeping me calm.

Mom was my caretaker during all of my childhood illnesses – pneumo-nia, mononucleosis, tonsillitis, strep throat and of course, the dreaded stomach virus. Just hearing the words “queasy” or “nauseous” sent Dad running for cover. But not Mom. She wasn’t afraid of my germs. She stayed on the front lines, ready to fight.

Unfortunately, I have not inherited her strong stomach. I feel nauseous if I have been on the phone with someone who has a virus. I sleep in the other bed-room when my husband is sick. At work, I resort to calling the school nurse and the custodian when one of my students falls ill. When it comes to throw up, I sim-ply cannot deal.

“I’m worried,” I told my mom a while back.“About what?”“I am afraid that I am going to be a terrible mother. I won’t be able to take

care of my kids when they’re sick.”“Of course you will,” she reassured. “Why would you even think that?”I explained my fear of stomach bugs and my extremely sensitive gag

reflex. I told her that there was no possible way I could sit in the same room and comfort a sick, retching child.

She started laughing.“I was the same way,” she said. “I couldn’t stand the thought of being

around a sick child either.”“So, how did you overcome it?”“I don’t know. It just happened. When it’s your child that is sick, some-

how, you’re just able to do it.”I felt a little better. At least there wasn’t some kind of a glitch in my genet-

ic make-up. Maybe I still stood a chance at motherhood.I missed a day of work not too long ago because I had spent the previous

day shivering and sweating on my couch. I tossed and turned, unable to get com-fortable. I coughed, blew my nose and regularly checked my temperature. It climbed past 100 degrees.

My husband brought me tea, soup and cough drops. My dad called to check on me. But the next day, when I absolutely had to see a doctor, it was Mom who chauffeured me.

I realize now that Mom is definitely susceptible to my bugs. She does not have a supercharged immune system that wipes out Melissa germs. I am sure that I have made her sick on numerous occasions. She runs the risk of getting ill each time she takes care of me. But she does it anyway. And she has never complained.

Although I am not looking forward to being around sick children, I do want to be able to take care of my kids and bring them comfort when they don’t feel well. I want them to be able to count on their mom.

When a nasty virus sweeps through my household, I will be prepared to fight back. I think I have the necessary supplies in my arsenal. Sure, germs are tough. But a moth-er’s love is stronger.

Mom on the Front Linesby Melissa Face

Dad heard me call out from my bedroom and came to check on me. He flipped the light switch only to see me get sick all over my bedspread.

“You need your mom, don’t you?”It was more of a plea than a question.“Yeah,” I muttered. “I’ll go get her.”

Voice

Melissa FaceMelissa Face lives in Virginia with her husband, son and daughter. Her stories and essays have appeared in Chicken Soup for the Soul and Cup of Comfort. E-mail Melissa at writermsface@yahoo.com.

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She would “ooh” and “ahh” over the hydrangeas, which she called snow-balls. She’d unfold the petals of tiger lily, tickle the bee balm and sniff the yellow roses. I’d follow her with a wicker basket as she snipped various blooms and passed them to me. Then she would carefully place each stem into a blue mason jar half filled with water, arranging blossoms into a beautiful country bouquet that explod-ed with color. Giggling like a little girl, she would parade her creation through the house, finally setting it on the kitchen table in front of my grandmother who would nod with satisfaction.

After my grandmother passed away, my mother continued this sweet tra-dition of picking flowers from the garden, but now they were lovingly delivered to her mother’s grave where they were just as carefully arranged.

She would smile warmly and say, “Jeffery, you don’t need to bring me flowers after I’m gone. Bring me flowers while I’m alive and I can enjoy them.”

“Then why are you bringing Grandma these flowers?” I’d ask, confused.She would smile at me, taking time to answer.“These flowers aren’t just for Grandma. They’re for me, for you and for

our memories of her.”Our yard was much like my grandmother’s. In spring, crocuses and daffo-

dils appeared through melting snow. Next came purple lilacs, filling the air with sweet fragrance. Hardy rose bushes grew along the fence, giving off dozens of fra-grant buds. Crimson Salvia, which Mom called firecrackers, lined the back patio. A great patch of pastel zinnias, mixed with fire red geraniums, filled flower boxes. Thick bunches of yellow, red and orange marigolds danced along the front walk and lasted through the summer and into fall.

My mother had a way with flowers, unlike my father, who would work a plot of ground, add fertilizer, lime and then carefully bury each seed at just the right depth and the proper distance from the next. He’d water and pamper and watch with little result. My mother would scratch a handful of seeds into a barren plot with a rake and forget about them. Like magic, glorious bunches of sprouts would fight their way through the soil and develop into great carpets of bursting blooms.

The one thing that my mother liked more than growing flowers was get-ting flowers.

“Jeffery, you don’t need to bring me flowers after I’m gone.” She would repeat. “Bring me flowers while I’m alive and can enjoy them.” And so I did for every occasion – birthdays, anniversaries, Valentine’s Day and especially on Mother’s Day.

It began with a handful of bright yellow dandelion flowers which I’d spent a May afternoon plucking from the front lawn when I was five years old. I proudly presented them to my mother. My father shook his head and snickered at my fist full of weeds, but to my mother they were as glorious as a dozen American Beauty roses.

In second grade, my class planted seeds in a cut off milk carton that we covered with aluminum foil. We tended, and coaxed and cared for them. Just before Mother’s Day, like a miracle of nature, pink blossoms finally unfolded just in time to take home.

There were some years when my dad would slip me a couple of dollars and drive me down to the florist shop in town where I would order a carnation corsage. Red if your mother is living, white if your mother had died, and pink if your mother was far away from you, I reminded myself.

There were other years when he and I would stop at a roadside stand to pick out a potted lily or glossy gardenia, my mother’s favorite, to surprise her with. These always became a new part of her ever-expanding garden.

Some bouquets’ lives were stretched far longer than they had a right to. Mom found it so hard to part with her flowers once they began to fade, finally snipping one bloom and pressing it between the pages of a book. No matter where I was or what I was doing, I made certain that my mother always had flowers on Mother’s Day. 

On a Sunday that’s devoted to mothers, I continue to bring flowers to her, carefully arranging them in a vase at her graveside. I have no idea what hap-pens beyond this life. I don’t know if we can see or hear what stays behind, but there is one thing I do know. As long as there is a Mother’s Day and there are flow-ers that grow, the memory of my mother will live on.

Flowers for Momby Jeffery Cohen

My mother loved flowers. Flowers of every shape and kind and color and scent. I think it must have been something passed down from her mother who kept her small yard fully adorned with blossoms. Each time we visited my grandparents’ home, the first thing my mother would do was to take me by the hand and lead me out to the flower garden.

Voice

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

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This fictional story is based on the real-life events that occurred with-in the author’s family. Jack Adams and Katie Vaughan grew up togeth-er and were childhood sweethearts. Katie even vowed on the first day of spring, that magical day when all promises come true, to never love another as much as she loved Jack. However, life happened, and Katie is now Kate who is trying to be in love with her boyfriend, Rowan. But, much has occurred in the last 13 years, and Kate knows she can’t fix things until she first talks to Jack. However the true healing process starts when her thirteen year old daughter, whom she gave up for adoption, finds her on Facebook. This is the story of how Katie, Jack and Emily find one another and find themselves along the way.

Patti Callahan Henry uses her real-life experiences and emotions as inspiration for this story. With each chapter rotating between the pres-ent and the past, readers will feel like they are walking down memory lane with Kate. Then, when the story switches to Emily’s point-of-

Read It!Nicole Says…ReadAnd Then I Found You,by Patti Callahan Henryby Nicole McManus

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view, it brings an entirely new round of emotions. The author’s writing will rip your heart open causing it to bleed with the characters’ pain, and then stitch it whole again with the sweetest thread made from undying love and conquering the fear of the unknown. This book is packed full of emotions and lessons to be learned, and I highly recommend it to fans of Women’s Literature.

I first read this book last year and the story has remained by my side from the moment I finished the last few sentences. Henry’s writing is exquisite and leaves readers with the important feeling of hope. I have added her to my list of must-read authors, thanks to this book. The author tells her family’s true story in a companion, non-fiction book called, Friend Request, but it is not necessary to read it before And Then I Found You.

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Nicole McManusNicole 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

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14

From the moment I knew of my first son’s existence within me – when he was just a baby blue plus sign – I talked to him constantly. Out loud or in my head, it didn’t matter. I felt that he could hear me somehow. That he understood. I’d tell him my biggest fears, my greatest accomplishments. About my first love, about how his daddy and I met, mistakes I’d made along the way – my hopes for him.

Home from the hospital, he slept, and slept. Family and friends told me to enjoy every second of it. “Sleep when he sleeps!” they cried. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t stop staring at this perfect little creature. Each moment of his little life was a milestone. I was so anxious for his first poop that I called the pediatrician in the middle of that first night home. “What seems to be the trouble?” the doctor asked me over a yawn.

“He won’t poop.”“Did you say ‘He won’t poop’?”“Well, the book says he’s supposed to poop in the first 24 hours…” I

trailed off, feeling foolish, but determined to get to the, um, bottom of it.“Listen Mrs. Wood,” he sounded a little exasperated. “If you stare at his

bum long enough, something’s bound to come out.”And when it finally did, I praised him endlessly. That’s when he started

crying. And crying. Other moms, even the pediatrician, told me to listen to the cries. One meant hungry, one meant tired, another, a wet diaper. For the first two months I wondered, “What in the world does it mean if I’ve already changed his diaper, fed him and given him a nap? What does it mean THEN?”

For the next six months my favorite words to him were “Shhh!” “Shh” as I rocked him, “Shhh” as I patted his back or changed his diaper.

Twelve months later, I couldn’t wait to hear that sweet voice utter his first word: “Mama.” I’d point like a fool at every object in our line of site and pro-nounce, oh so carefully, each noun –“CAR,” “BANANA” like I was trying to teach the language to a foreign exchange student with a hearing problem.

As the years went by, things changed between my little blue plus sign and me. Those free-spirited conversations with my little boy were fewer and further between. Somewhere between walking hand-in-hand into kindergarten and seeing – literally – eye to eye in middle school, the talks got shorter, and the silences grew longer. Time outs transitioned to groundings, and though they happened rarely, when they were over, he no longer wanted to talk about

it. For the first time, when it came to my son, I was at a loss for words.And Connor closed up: His mouth, his bedroom door. Even his arms

were forever folded protectively across his chest. I was unsure what to talk about with him anymore: sports, school, movies? So many things seemed to be off lim-its. His grunts and one-word, mumbled responses spoke volumes to me. He didn’t feel like talking about it anymore. Or maybe just with me. Me, who has always loved to talk – whose parents used to sigh and then ask me to “take a break,” – was out of words.

How do I talk to him about that bully at school? How do I explain the hereditary condition that forces him to endure surgeries every 24 months? Or how proud I am of him for pushing through high school soccer tryouts only to suffer a hairline fracture on the very last day. And watch him sit on the bench anyway to show the coach he is not a quitter. How do I explain that friends make mistakes, girls will break your heart, disappointments are just a part of life, if he’s not listening?

That’s when I realized that he’d been talking to me all along. Just not with words. Connor’s was a silent form of communication. The folded arms meant something, as did the silences. I began to pay attention to the signs he was unwit-tingly giving me. And react to them, even in the smallest ways. When he spoke to me through a half-eaten dinner, I learned to give him space, and leave out small snacks at bedtime. And over time, he began speaking to me in other ways: with tight hugs, a huge smile on the soccer field or plans made with friends. I wanted very much to keep our relationship strong, and our conversations going, so I learned to just be present. To sit quietly – on the edge of his bed or in the car, or across from him at the kitchen table, and let him know, just with my pres-ence…I’m ready to talk about it.

Ready to Talk About Itby Beth M. Wood

“Mama?” my three year old calls from his bedroom doorway, “I’m ready to talk about it!”

Back then I would smile a secret smile, and race up the stairs to pull him into a great big bear hug, cuddle up and talk it out.

Voice

Beth M. WoodBeth M. Wood is an award-winning marketer, free-lance writer and mom of three. Her social media addiction pays the bills and steady copywriting gigs feed her shopping habit. She blogs about marketing and social media at bethmwoodblog.com, digresses about life and parenting at bethmwood.blogspot.com and tweets @a1972bmw.

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Caring and Sharing

Cathy Altman:Mercy Care Hospice Tell us a little about yourself.I am the Public Relations Specialist for Mercy Care Hospice, and also manage some of our fundraising events. A true local, I was raised in Calabash, North Carolina; growing up, all of my relatives had restaurants, and my dad was a com-mercial fisherman. My article on Calabash was recently published in Our State Magazine – I was so thrilled! I live with my husband, Dayton, in Cherry Grove, and we have a 22 year old son, Thomas. We live in the house my husband grew up in, it’s actually one of the oldest houses in North Myrtle Beach, built in 1918.

Please share one of your favorite memories of your mother.There are so many. I’m fortunate that my mom is still living and I see her weekly. I can remember working with my mother as a child, heading and peeling shrimp in a huge walk-in cooler. Those shrimp would be served in restaurants the very same night. My mom was also the Calabash Town Clerk and later the Town Manager, working for the town for 30 years.

What are your plans for Mother’s Day?I will take Mom out to lunch; her restaurant choice is usually Ella’s Seafood in Calabash. We’ll spend the day together, and I’ll give her a plant or flower, some-thing she always loves.

How can Mercy Care Hospice help those grieving the loss of a parent (or anyone)?Everyone has to grieve in their own way, and Mercy Care offers support groups to help, as well as individualized grief counseling. These services are not just for the families of hospice patients, anyone can call and our Bereavement staff will be glad to talk with you.

Mother’s Day can bring a lot of sadness, like most holidays when you’ve lost someone special. Just this year, I have lost six friends, two on the same day, and the support and comfort I’ve gotten from the Mercy Care Hospice staff has made all the difference. They even had a huge bouquet of flowers delivered to my home.

Who should people contact to learn more about Mercy Care Hospice?They can call the office at 843-848-6480, or visit our website, mercyhospice.org. There are tools for caregivers listed that will be helpful for anyone caring for a family member, and we can also help you determine whether your patient is eligi-ble for hospice care.

This is a very caring team. Mercy Care Hospice is a 501 (c) (3) non-profit and no one is turned away, regardless of their ability to pay. We also offer two camps a year for children who have suffered a loss of any kind, we have even had children whose parents are in the military and deployed overseas. We hold fundraisers periodically to fund these types of programs.

I hope everyone will remember that every day is a gift and every moment matters.

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20

My husband and I have enjoyed the past few weeks with my daughter and her family. We are delighted that she and our son-in-law have chosen to live in the same small town, so that we can help with baby-sitting and drop by with lunch. I wash my hands and hold the baby, and my husband heads upstairs to play trains with our grandson. When he comes back down, I might play on the construction mat with Evan and his bulldozers while my husband holds the baby.

We are basking in the glory of grandparenthood, and reveling in the gift that makes these simple joys possible, the gift of time. My husband and I are retired now, as are many of our friends, and we are well aware of the importance and significance of the gift of time. It is a special blessing to be able to play farm or toolset without constantly checking the clock. There is a distinct timelessness in the very act of rocking a baby, memorizing her dainty fingers and toes, cradling her baby lusciousness in your arms, and losing yourself in the wonder of this new life.

Of course a grandparent does not have to be retired to be a super grand-parent. It just happens that in our case, our grandchildren have arrived in our early retirement years, and I regard days with these children as pirate’s plunder, treasures that quickly sift through our fingers. For childhood is not static, we cannot freeze these children in time. Each morning there is new growth, a new skill, a new word, a new behavior. Time is a gift, and it is fleeting.

When I think of my own childhood, some of my most pleasant memo-ries are those at my grandparents’ house. I recall summer afternoons, sitting with my grandmother on the front porch, shelling butterbeans or snapping green beans. My grandmother always told long, hilarious stories, usually about her own child-hood and relatives. In the winter, I would sit at her feet and help her wind her yarn into big balls, listening at the same time to another of my grandmother’s yarns about some wayward family member.

When I grew into my teens, I would bring my own stories to my grand-mother. She would soundly scold and condemn any bully who had mistreated me, admonish any boyfriend who had failed to appreciate the gem that I was and cast several curses on any who broke my heart or my trust. She would accomplish all this while clicking her knitting needles, preparing vegetables, or stirring cubed steak with gravy in her cast-iron skillet. My grandmother’s hands were never idle,

but I always felt that she listened to my concerns with all of her attention. She soothed my spirit whenever I laid my problems at her feet, and I always left my grandmother’s house feeling loved and cherished.

These are the feelings I want my grandchildren to remember. I want them to remember my house as a place where they were loved and cherished, just as they are at their own home. I want them to have the assurance that “Nanoo and Pop” will help them grow and thrive. I want them to remember reading fairy tales, playing the piano, and parading through the house with pots and pans and rain sticks and maracas, singing at the tops of our lungs.

Recently Evan became very sick with a high temperature, and Pop and I whisked him away from the new born baby and kept him at our house for four days and nights. We took him to the pediatrician, gave him medicine and held him when he felt too weak to play. While I was rubbing eczema cream on his poor little knees, which seemed to reflect the heat of his fever through his sensitive skin, this three-year-old looked up at me and said, “Nanoo, thank you for taking very, very good care of me.”

Of course, that melted my heart. That whole episode reminded me of other gifts for which I am grateful. I am grateful for doctors and for medicine. I am grateful for extra bedrooms and a new dump truck bed set, which helped perk up a sick little boy. I am grateful that my husband in his retirement is fast becoming the world’s best Pop. I am grateful for the role models of my grandmother and my mother, who is still a pretty terrific “Mammie” to her grandchildren.

Most of all, I am grateful for the gift of time. I do not take it for granted, and I try not to waste it, for I am aware that it is the most precious gift we can give our children and our grandchildren. I can only hope that the time I spend with my grandchildren will nurture them and help launch them into their own orbits in this universe, blazing their own trails with confidence and assurance and love.

The Gift of Timeby Kim Seeley

My family has been blessed recently with a new grandchild, a beautiful little girl, who has become another brilliant light in our little universe, along with her three-year-old brother, who has already blazed his own meteoric path in our lives and into our hearts. My daughter has been home with the new baby girl and preschool boy for nearly eight weeks, and is rapidly ap-proaching the time when she must return to work.

Voice

Kim SeeleyKim Seeley resides in Wakefield, Virginia with her husband Wayne. She is the doting grandmother of Evan and Delaney, who keep her imagination and zest for life intact.

21

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22

Nevertheless, my mom and I are joined at the hip and those “apron strings” that folks refer to when talking about getting loose from a parent, are still very much attached. I’m here to tell you we slept in the same bed until Mom remarried my wonderful new dad. I remember on their honeymoon, yes they took me with them, I said “Pete, where are you going sleep?” when we entered the hotel room, seeing only one bed. And Pete responded with a point of the finger, “You are going to sleep there on the couch!” Ouch! I have to admit I resented him at first, but grew to love him over the years. I was only eight and half years old, and my mom was EVERYTHING to me! I did not want to share her. Mom under-stood that and did all she could to make sure I felt special.

When I was ten, I was invited to a pajama party with my girlfriends, but I did not want to go because I was fearful of being away from Mom. And yet it was she who encouraged me to go by saying if I got homesick she would come and get me without question. At the last minute I decided to go after begging and pleading from my friends, but I was nauseated all night, calling Mom three times just to hear her voice.

Camp? Forget about it. The thought of leaving Mom’s side for a week was unthinkable. However, in 1968 I was selected to go to a citizenship camp rep-resenting my high school and all expenses were paid, even my travel there and back. I knew I could not let the school down as kids from all over the two Carolinas were gathering in the mountains of North Carolina for this grand oppor-tunity. Mom knew I was freaking out about it and promised she would come get me if I could not make it through the week without her. I did wind up going, apprehensive and shaking like a leaf as I hugged her goodbye. This was good train-ing ground for me, because six months later, I had to go to cheerleading camp: I threw up twice on the way there as I could barely face another week of missing my mama! Luckily none of the girls made fun of me. One of them actually said, “If I had a mom like yours, I’d feel the same way!”

College was a no-brainer, if you’ll excuse the silliness of that statement, as I attended college living at home even though I was given a full scholarship to go to USC. That proved to be a great experience, one I would not trade for anything. Being a part of the Florence, South Carolina, Regional Campus of the University

of South Carolina, and watching it blossom into Francis Marion University, was an education in itself. I became the student media spokesperson for the college, which gave me my first taste of broadcasting.

Once my career began, I was getting all kinds of offers to move, but could not and would not do it. And who knows? If I had moved I might never have met the man of my dreams! It wasn’t until 1984 when Chuck and I married and decided to move to Myrtle Beach that I had to finally step up to the plate and put on my big girl panties. Okay, so we were only moving 80 miles away, but the night we pulled out of my parent’s driveway, I cried like a baby. I must admit I had a little too much wine at dinner on purpose in hopes that it would soothe the pain of leaving. It didn’t.

Ten years ago, after my dad died, I moved Mom to Myrtle Beach. It is so wonderful to have her only one mile away, as she is one of the brightest spots in my day, every day. As a matter of fact, everyone who meets her describes her as a “Hoot,” or a “Trip,” or “A piece of work,” all meant to be complimentary. To know her is to love her. Mom makes people laugh and feel good about the world and what’s ailing them.

Do I regret any of the decisions that I made along the way due to this gripping maternal attachment? Absolutely not! I believe I am right where God meant for me to be all along. I treasure the quality time I have had with my amazing mom, and wouldn’t trade it for anything. She always encouraged my independence; I was just too wimpy to go very far from her. Since Mom was only eighteen when I was born, in a sense we grew up together. She is my head cheerleader and best friend. And I’m not ashamed to tell you that these “Apron Strings” are far from fraying with age. Actually you could say they are as good as new: starched and fully pressed!

Apron Stringsby Diane DeVaughn Stokes

Now don’t go thinking just because I entitled this piece “Apron Strings” that I’m going to write about spending time in the kitchen with my mom as a kid. No way. That memory is all about my grandmother who loved to cook and gave me the passion I have for creativity in the kitchen. My mom had to work since my father left when I was nine months old. We lived with my grandparents, and I thank God for them everyday. There is no memory of my mom slaving away in the kitchen to put dinner on the table.

Voice

Diane DeVaughn StokesDiane is President of Stages Video Productions in Myrtle Beach, Host and Producer of “Inside Out” on HTC Channel 4 and Host of “Diane At Six” on EASY Radio.

23

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26

Living with

Grace by Connie Barnard

Long Island in the Bahamas is a tiny string of land roughly 80 miles long and no more than four miles wide, an hour’s plane ride but a world away from its nearest neighbor, the boisterous resort center of Nassau. Nestled between the tur-quoise waters of the Atlantic and the silver blue of the Caribbean, the island is home to the world’s deepest blue hole and a barely tapped abundance of lobster, bonefish and grouper. A single road runs through the center of the island, connect-ing small settlements bearing familiar English surnames and a few more curious ones like Deadman’s Cay, Doctor’s Creek, Hard Bargain and the Bight.

Located on the Tropic of Cancer, Long Island was visited by Columbus in 1492. It also has historic connections to the Carolinas. In the wake of the American Revolution, a number of British Loyalists fled to Caribbean outposts to start a new life – growing the same crops with relatively mixed results. Adderly Plantation on the island’s north end is a case in point, its crumbled ruins a testament to time and misadventure.

Many of the plantation populations remained on the island, their presence reflecting an uncanny kinship to our local culture with accents more Lowcounty than British, a thriv-ing cottage industry of basket weaving (which they call plaiting) and a familiar kin-dred spirit. The beauty of Long Island remains unspoiled, in part because it is still primitive in many ways. The island did not get electricity until the late 1990s, and ser-vice remains sporadic. Phone and internet connections are sparse, and there is not a single franchise store, which probably helps keep the life and the people here so unspoiled. On this island there are many who live in poverty, but its peo-ple do not know they are poor. Their lives are enviably rich.

In 2011, former Myrtle Beach residents, Jan and Gabe Swing arrived here from the Charlotte area with their ten year old daughter Grace to head the Bahama Youth Network, a non-denominational youth outreach mission program. The move here was a cosmic change in lifestyle for Gabe, an ordained Presbyterian minister, and Jan, a regis-tered nurse. Their youth center, named the Oasis, operates out of a former Bahamian elementary school, each week connecting over 100 young adolescents from all over the island. Transportation is provided through two ancient, consis-tently unreliable vans which Gabe and his young intern Josh keep running, thanks to the skills and generosity of local mechanics. Several days a week the young peo-ple arrive to participate in a wide range of musical, athletic, social and spiritual activities. They are an impressive group in their spotless school uniforms – courte-ous and a bit shy at first, displaying no signs of typical teen-age insolence. On this day during our recent visit, the young people seem completely at ease both with one another and with the group of volunteers from America who replaced the roof on one of their homes, damaged and covered by a tarp since Hurricane Sandy’s devastating visit. The big treat for today is homemade pizza – truly home made by Jan who created 20 individual batches of yeast dough which was allowed to rise for several hours that morning before each was spread with top-pings purchased from Nassau and delivered by the mail boat earlier in the week. Afterward, she will deliver the leftover pizza to several families in need scattered around the tiny island – a typical day in the life of this for-mer ER nurse with a Masters degree. “Because we have no well-stocked groceries, just a few mom and pop markets, even providing simple meals for the kids is complicated and expensive.” Jan pauses a moment, watch-ing a group playing ball in the yard, then she adds, “Nothing is simple here, yet everything is. It is easy to separate your wants from your needs.”

Jan met Gabe while both were on the staff of First Presbyterian Church in Myrtle Beach. Jan recalls, “Gabe and I actually talked about our dreams of full-time mission work the first day we met while on a volunteer trip to Mexico.” When Jan’s son Kenny went to college and Grace was finishing fifth grade, they felt it was the right time to go for it. “I thought I was prepared,” Jan laughs, “but I had no idea. After selling the cars, putting some personal items in storage, giving away anything that was left, and renting out the house we had just completed renovat-

ing, the lump in my throat quickly turned into a large watermelon.” Now in their third year on the island, Jan reflects, “I had worked 12 hour shifts and picked up other hours to make extra money. I was like most parents who want the best for their children, and I liked having a job that made me feel useful. Shortly after we arrived on the island, however, I realized how much I love spending so much time with my daughter. This gift of time with her has been invaluable.”

An innately kind, confident and quick-witted twelve year old, Grace has thrived in her life here. Home schooled for her college preparatory curriculum, she attends the local high school part-time and plays on a local baseball team. “We were not sure how this experience would be for her,” Jan reflects, “but she loves it and has made many good friends. She has learned to speak Bahamian and inter-prets for us when we cannot catch the local dialect. They refer to her as “the white girl,” quite simply because she is the only one in the school. Culturally, she has adapted so well. She has friends who live without electricity and running water. I think she has learned to respect people for who they are, not what they have.”

Regarding Grace’s home schooling, Jan reflects, “I never had a desire to home school my children, but the move here made it a necessity. What a gift it has been. I still worry that I am not doing it right, but Grace turned out to be a great home school student. She can name all the fish she sees when we go snorkeling and has learned a lot about bush medicine. During class breaks she will investigate a soldier crab that has climbed up on our porch or watch a water spout skipping across the ocean. All cool things.”Grace is also a skilled photographer whose wildflower photos have been published in a coffee table size book.

Asked what they miss from back home, Jan immediately replies, “People, the most. Here we are the ‘missionaries.’ We talk with our families several times a week, probably more than when we lived back in the U.S.” Jan has especially missed her

son, Kenny, who will gradu-ate from the USC School of Business this month. She laughingly adds that next to family and friends, the things she misses most are Chick-fil-A, a clothes dryer and a garbage disposal. “My mom hung clothes on the line. It’s really not such a big deal. Grace and I try to make a game of it.”

Another game Jan and Grace play is “shopping.” “When things get a bit dull, we go shopping online. We look at all the cool stuff and put together outfits and

accessories. We never actu-ally buy any of them,” she adds, “It’s just good enter-tainment.” Jan is also grate-ful that Grace has been able to stay close to her best friend in Charlotte. “When the internet is up, she and Grace are able to Skype regularly. It gives her someone to talk with besides her mom.”

Myrtle Beach resident Mary Gene Singleton, who has been close friends with the Swings for many years,

says, “I remember very well the excitement on the day Jan and Gabe announced at a church staff meeting that they were expect-ing their daughter, Grace. Grace inherited their loving and gentle spirit, which served her well as her parents made the decision to pack up their home in the States and

begin a new life on Long Island. It is awe-inspiring to see Grace ‘gracefully’ giving up the normal must-haves of ordinary adolescents to become a comfortable bridge between her parents and the young people of their Long Island ministry…Jan and Grace share a beautiful bond both as mother and daughter and as best friends.”

The Swings don’t know when or where the road of life will take them next, but they do know clearly that right now, in this one small place, they are mak-ing a big difference. Lives here are being touched forever – especially their own. “We hope Grace will learn from this experience that, regardless of where we go in the world, we all have hopes and dreams…We all want to love and be loved, and we have a responsibility to make a positive difference in the world. Sometimes I do worry that we spend too much of our time doing for others, but if that is the worst mistake we make in raising a child, let it be. I think Grace has seen how much the smallest gift of kindness means to others,” Jan adds with a smile. “We can choose to live in faith or in fear. When we are old, we will not look back on our lives and say, ‘I only wish we had…’ We will look back and smile.”

Interested readers may learn more about the Swings’ program in the Bahamas at swingmission.com.

Connie BarnardConnie Barnard traveled the world as a military wife and taught high school and college composition for over 30 years. She has been a regular contributor to Sasee since its first issue in 2002.

27

Southern Snaps

“Lives here are beingtouched forever –

especially their own.”

28

Family First

Susan Darden and Elizabeth Darden:Darden Jewelers Tell us a little about yourselves.Susan: I am originally from Lancaster, South Carolina. I met my late husband Buzz when he moved to Lancaster to manage Darden Jewelers. We married in l971 and moved to Conway and later to Murrells Inlet.Elizabeth: I grew up in Conway, but now live in Murrells Inlet. After I graduated from USC, I lived in Columbia for 10 years. I wanted to be back at the beach, so I moved here and started working in the family business.Susan: Darden Jewelers is the oldest jewelry store in Horry County. My father-in-law opened the first store in Conway in 1940. In the l950s he opened a store in Myrtle Beach and one in Georgetown. The Lancaster store was opened in the 1960s. My husband and our son Stuart opened the Inlet Square Mall store in l989, and we moved to our current location across from the mall in 2000.

Please share one of your favorite memories of your mother.Susan: My mother was a lovely southern lady. She was a stay-at-home mom who loved to bake; she was never without her pearls. Even sick, Mom never missed her Thursday morning hair appointment.Elizabeth: I have always loved going shopping with my mother, and we have made many trips to Charlotte and NYC. And, we love to play tennis together.

What are your plans for Mother’s Day?Susan: I will go out to lunch with Elizabeth, Stuart, his wife, Lora and my 8 year old grandson, Tyler. It’s a day for family time.

What is the best thing about working together as mother and daughter?Elizabeth: Working with Mom is easy – we know each other! She keeps me at my best and makes me want to do better. Susan: I learn so much from my children, whether we agree or disagree we are still family and love each other. My children are the third generation in the jewelry business – that in itself is an accomplishment in today’s world. Being a small fami-ly business, our long time customers become family too. We are now serving third generation customers. My life, both family and business, has come full circle, much like a cherished ring passed down through the generations.

What’s new at Darden Jewelers?Elizabeth: We say “Darden is for Diamonds,” because customers are able to choose their diamond before it is set and have it designed especially for them. We also love gemstones and have a lot of wonderful items that would make special Mother’s Day gifts. Our selections are not the typical run of the mill item you see everywhere. We also do in-house jewelry repair!

Darden Jewelers is located at 2078 Highway 17 Bypass, Unit C, in Murrells Inlet, across from Inlet Square Mall. Hours are 10 am-5:30 pm, Monday-Friday and

10 am-2 pm on Saturday. Call 843-651-5067 for more information.

29

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30

I groaned. What was wrong with calling on the phone? I had just gotten a new computer and had spent the past few days trying to get used to it. Techie that I am (NOT), I hadn’t even looked at the Skype app. It would probably mean regis-tering and creating another new password to remember.

Just call, I texted back, knowing he would not take No for an answer. Get on Skype. It’s part of Dad’s birthday present, he insisted, guilting me out

of my chair. Surprisingly, the program popped right up. “The kids want to wish you a happy birthday,” I called to my husband. We crowded in front of the computer screen as their faces appeared. My

son and his wife had broad smiles on their faces. Each held a sign on their laps that said HAPPY BIRTHDAY. They panned the camera to another cardboard square: GRAMPA.

I squealed with delight; my husband studied the screen. “This is not a joke, right?” he asked, remembering the fake, winning lottery ticket from a previ-ous year. (My son is known to be a bit of a prankster.)

“Nope, it’s the real deal; but it’s still early. We’d like to wait a little while before we break the news,” my son said, dashing my plans of calling everyone I knew and plastering it on Facebook.

“How long,” I asked.“We’ll let you know,” he said. Finally, feeling safely over the four month mark, they made their big

announcement. I made my telephone calls. “You’re going to be a Grandma!” my friends sang back to me.

A few weeks passed. My daughter-in-law was not having an easy pregnan-cy. Morning sickness had turned into all-day sickness. The tired, bloated feeling was not going away. Her feet swelled; her legs, arms, her entire body inflated. She hesitated to call the doctor’s office thinking her complaints would be pronounced the typical hormonal changes of a pregnant woman (with a wink and the all-knowing smile). By the end of the week, she had gained 30 pounds and had become so swollen that it was difficult to walk. This was not normal. She made an appointment.

Jacqueline was admitted to the hospital, and the barrage of tests began. Kidney failure? Preeclampsia? So many fears popped into our minds. We rushed to the hospital in Boston where her parents were already at our children’s side, camped out in the waiting room – pacing, worrying.

Questions, questions and more questions – no answers. By day four, the team of kidney specialists had a diagnosis: Minimal Change Disease, the doctors called it. Not so bad, I had thought. “Minimal” meant small, so we had a small problem. Not so…It seemed this would be one for the textbooks.

Minimal Change Disease (kidney disease named for its inability to be observed in a specimen under light microscopy), is most common in children

under the age of seven. It’s rarity among women, particularly pregnant women, became evident as the doctors searched for data. They found only two document-ed cases from which to draw information.

The high-risk OB/GYN team assessed Jacqueline’s situation and gave lit-tle to no hope of the pregnancy progressing. They delivered the same message day after day, warning my son and his wife of the threat to her health. My brave daugh-ter-in-law refused to give in, the mother in her wanting one more day, and then one more after that.

The day before Thanksgiving, her doctors believed they could wait no longer; a decision had to be made. My son asked that we give them some time alone. There was nothing we could do, he told us, his face showing the strain.

We left the hospital desperately wishing we had the ability to shoo away their pain and heartache with a kiss and a bandage as we had when they were chil-dren. My husband and I wanted to know their child – this child – our grandchild. Sniffles and sobs punctuated the long drive to my daughter’s house.

Thanksgiving Day was grim. The irony of the holiday, though unspoken, was on our minds as we waited to give our love and support.

Finally, the call came. There was a glimmer of hope from the kidney spe-cialists. Maybe…just maybe…they could manage the disease, keeping Jacqueline stable until the baby was born. After the birth, they could aggressively treat her condition with powerful drugs. No promises, but hope, none-the-less.

After two weeks in the hospital, Jacqueline and Terry went home to their apartment. Jacqueline’s parents (incredible people) took turns staying with them, helping out, while their daughter was on complete bed rest. Ups and downs and uncertainties shadowed their days; every twenty four hours so precious and scary. Day-to-day became week-to-week. A month inched by; two months turned into three. We were all so grateful as my son’s wife entered her third trimester of pregnancy. 

Today I received a beautiful picture. Black and white and grainy, it took a few seconds for my brain to recognize the leg and foot in mid kick. I laughed, and then I cried. My heart was so full of joy that I thought it would burst.

This month I will become a Grandmother. Correction: I am already a Grandmother in my heart and soul – and soon-to-be in person. I can picture her in my mind – a little bit of Terry and a lot of Jacqueline (as my son would say) and I am smiling.

Defining Momentsby Rose Ann Sinay

My cell phone dinged – a text from my son.Get Dad on Skype, he had written without preamble. It was his father’s birthday.

Voice

Rose Ann SinayRose 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.

31

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“I can’t believe the summer is almost over already,” my kids and I lament every August.

“And we didn’t do anything we wanted to do,” we say.Somehow, year after year, the summer months just seem to slip through

our fingers, and we’re left feeling like we should have had done more, seen more and just had more fun.

But the school year looms upon us like a giant kill joy.Last summer, I was surfing the internet and found a solution to this problem. I

ran across Summer Fun Bingo cards. They are like a Summer Bucket List for kids.On the first day of the kids’ summer break, I printed out one card for

each of my five children and helped them fill in the spaces with activities they wanted to do that summer.

Concerned that I would end up with five Bingo cards filled with “Go to Disney World” and “Fly to the Moon,” I made sure we talked about limiting the number of expensive activities to just a few and trying to think of fun things to do that didn’t cost a lot.

My kids surprised me. Each card was a little bit different, but the kids chose some of the same activities. Their Bingo cards included the following free or nearly free activities: have a water balloon fight, go to the library, have a family movie night, go to the pool, build an obstacle course, go play at the park, have a watermelon seed spitting contest, have a board game day and build a tent in the living room.

Their cards also included going out for ice cream, ordering pizza, getting frozen Cokes from the Speedway station, choosing a candy bar at the drug store and getting hot pretzels at the mall. These are all things our family does on a regular basis anyway – we gotta eat, right? – so it made sense to include them on the cards.

There were also some extra special activities like choosing what I made for dinner one night, buying a new outfit, going to the movies, having a friend spend the night and choosing which restaurant we visit for lunch.

After all the Bingo cards were filled in, we hung them on the fridge. “I’m not promising that we’ll be able to do everything on everyone’s card,” I said. “But I promise everyone will get a Bingo sometime this summer.”

“What’s the prize for getting a Bingo?” Four-year-old Nathan asked.I thought for a minute. “I think I’ll pick up some fun things from the dol-

lar store.”“Oh, I love the dollar store!” Ten-year-old Julia said, and then jumped up

and grabbed her Bingo card from the fridge. She erased one of her activities and in its place she wrote, “Go to the dollar store.”

Each of the other kids followed suit. So we decided that when we went to buy the Bingo prizes at the dollar

store, each child would choose three things to share with everyone else. Three items times five children times one dollar per item equals fifteen bucks.

Quite a bargain for an afternoon of fun. Ten minutes later, we were in the car on the way to the dollar store. The

kids were beyond excited to be getting their first square filled in on their Bingo cards. At the dollar store, they chose squirt guns, water balloons, glow sticks and Silly String.

Including the Bingo prizes, we spent twenty dollars at the dollar store that day, and those items kept the kids busy for days. The kids even got another square or two filled in on their cards.

During our giant squirt gun fight, Nathan grinned at me, water dripping down from his hair and into his eyes. He swiped his hand across his face and said, “You’re fun, Mommy.”

For this mom, that was a million dollar moment. It meant so much to me because while I know that I’m a good mom to my kids, I’m not always a fun mom. A good mom prepares healthy meals and makes her kids eat their veggies. A good mom makes sure that homework is done, baths are taken and bedtimes are fol-lowed. A good mom is responsible and sensible.

But a fun mom fills water balloons and plays hide and seek. She spits watermelon seeds, eats popsicles and builds blanket forts. A fun mom throws cau-tion to the wind and bends the rules for the sake of fun. She grins and giggles and doesn’t worry what time it is or how many calories something has. She’s laid back and care free.

Last summer, I became a better version of myself. For those ten weeks of summer break, I was actually a fun mom. And I

vowed to keep her – or at least a part of her – once my children returned to school.But it wasn’t easy. Vegetables need to be eaten and homework must be

completed.I found that being Fun Mom all the time just isn’t possible. Our lives

would be utter chaos if I stopped worrying about things like bedtimes and home-work. My kids need me to remember things like track meets and snack days at pre-school. They need me to remind them that they cannot live on just Cheez-it crack-ers and chocolate chip cookies. They need me to be responsible and sensible. My kids need a good mom.

But then I remember the squirt gun fight and the look in Nathan’s eyes when he called me fun. I miss that look and long for the return of Fun Mom.

My solution? A Summer Saturday, no matter what season it is. It’s a day off from schedules and clocks – and even from calories. The kids make mini Bingo cards, and we try to cram as much fun into that one day as we can.

For that one day, I am once again, a better version of myself.I love being Fun Mom.

A Better Version of Myselfby Diane Stark

Voice

Diane StarkDiane 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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Choosing Motherhood

Eve Benton SmithTell us a little about yourself.I grew up in Myrtle Beach, and my husband Chris and I met in high school, but only dated a year before he moved to North Carolina. During the summer before my freshman year of college, he vaca-tioned in Garden City where my family has a beach house, and we started dating again. We’ve been married 27 years. I am a stay-at-home mom, and Chris works in his family business, Primarily Pine. Before we had the boys, Chris and I owned T. Christopher and Eve in the Hammock Shops.

After we were married, we could not get pregnant, and tried fertility treatments. It was so hard! I didn’t understand why I couldn’t get pregnant when my mom had four children and my sister had two. Some friends of ours introduced us to Bethany Christian Services, and we went to a fundraiser. When one of the birth mothers could not find a family she wanted to place her child with, the staff remembered meeting Chris and I, and brought us to her attention. It was a “God thing” for sure, because we had not even started the application process. We adopted both of our sons through this won-derful agency and now they are 18 and 15. My two sons couldn’t have been a more perfect fit for this family – God knew exactly what we needed. They have always known they are adopted, but, really, we are all adopted into God’s family.

Please share one of your favorite memories of your mother.Mom and I are very close – she is my best friend. We adopted our old-est son when he was two days old, and I had no idea what to do! I went from having eight hours of sleep a night to no sleep. My mother moved in with us for nearly two weeks and helped. I don’t know what I would’ve done without her.

What are your plans for Mother’s Day?We will go to church at All Saints, and I’ll have lunch with my boys. We’ll see both of our parents in the afternoon. We may go to Brookgreen and have a picnic if the weather is nice.

Do you have any advice for couples considering adoption?Start praying and do your homework. Talk to people who have adopt-ed and get their opinions. Most importantly, do not give up. There is more than one way to have children.

What’s new and exciting at Primarily Pine?We’ve been open for 23 years now, and we’re not all pine! Primarily Pine has home goods, amazing designers on staff and lots of cottage furnishings inspired by life in Pawleys Island. Please stop by and see us.

Primarily Pine is located at 11302 Ocean Highway in Pawleys Island. Please visit their website at primarilypine.com or call 843-237-3562.

Hours are 10 am-5 pm, Monday-Saturday.

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36

The Ironing BoardI grew up in England in a bustling neighborhood where it seemed every-

body knew each other (or if not, knew their business), everybody had kids, and nobody thought twice about dropping by – unannounced. (Maybe people did that back then because nobody had phones. The only phone I remember was the lonely, freestanding booth that serviced the entire neighborhood, reeked of stale cigarettes and always had a line.)

Few people locked their doors, so when you made your unannounced visit, you would just knock on the door of your unsuspecting host then walk right in hollering, “It’s just me, put the kettle on.” I never understood whether the cursory knock was a warning that unexpected visitors were entering, or shorthand for “get the tea going.” In England, tea drinking is a national obses-sion so I suspect the latter.

I was one of six kids, so a steady stream of our friends, plus other mothers and their kids were always coming and going. Our house was like Grand Central and Mum lapped it up – she loved nothing more than a houseful of kids. Fifty years later, she still loves it. Mum would feed any child who happened to be at our house at eating time so consequently, there were often more small bottoms than chairs at the table. When this happened, Mum would get out the ironing board and lay it across two of the chairs for us all to sit on. You had to be careful though because if you were sitting on the pointy end and all the others got off, it would tip up like a seesaw. Get me and my five siblings together and we still laugh about it. Funny but I have absolutely no memory of Mum actually ironing.

The Spin CycleOur neighborhood boasted a communal Laundromat. Houses were

small, kitchens were tiny and few families, if any, had the space or money for a tumble dryer. Mum would wash what she could at home in the small, top-loading, twin-tub washer that lived in the closet under the stairs. On wash day, she would shimmy it over to the kitchen sink, fill it with a hose, and then dangle the unat-tached end of the fat drainage hose over the sink for when the machine drained all that water during the spin cycle. This was my all-time, favorite part.

When the machine hit the spin cycle, the vibration would send the free-standing washer (and its drainage hose) dancing around the kitchen. It only took one flooded kitchen floor for Mum to come up with a solution – she would have one of us kids sit on top of the machine to anchor it down. For a five-year old, rid-ing the spin cycle was more fun than a roller coaster.

The KissWe’d take sheets to the Laundromat to dry, and I’d help Mum fold them,

first left to right, then in half. My favorite part was when you bring the two ends together and meet in the middle. Mum would kiss me. To this day, if my husband helps me fold sheets, we kiss when we meet in the middle.

Banging on the WallMum’s friend Leslie lived next door, and Mum, Leslie and her mother

loved to play cards. When my Mum was in the mood for cards, she would walk to the end of our living room and bang twice on the wall. A few minutes later, right on cue, we’d hear the cursory knock on our front door, followed by Leslie’s familiar cry of “It’s just me, put the kettle on.” If Mum was comfy in her chair or busy, she would instruct one of us kids, “Go bang on the wall for Les for me.” I tried once when I was really young, but my small fist did not make the cut or the noise. It was priceless. Just thinking about it makes me chuckle.

Iffit’sWhenever we asked that hungry, burning question: “Mum, what’s for

dinner?” her answer would be the same: “Iffits.” We all knew that was the end of that conversation. One night, decades later, my husband asked me the same ques-tion. Out of nowhere, I replied “iffits.” (The first sign that I was, in fact, turning into my mother.) He stared at me blankly until I elaborated what it meant. “If it’s in the cabinet you can have it; if it’s not you can’t.” We ate iffits a lot growing up. Looking back, it was a smarter response to six hungry kids than “I don’t know yet.”

The Ice Cream ConeOn weekends, the ice cream van would visit our neighborhood, signaling

its arrival with its jingling tunes. When you’re a child, life stops when you hear the ice cream van, and Mum and Dad were powerless to our begging. Mum never ordered anything – she didn’t care for the soft, whippy ice cream but she loved the cone. Consequently my Dad would get to savor the ice cream but then have to hand over his untouched cone to my Mum. To this day, I don’t know if I’ve ever seen my Dad enjoy a whole ice cream.

Fast forward forty years. When I am out with my husband and he craves ice cream, rarely do I join him – until he reaches the cone. Just like Dad, my hus-band hands me his cone, still crunchy but with that perfect kiss of melted ice cream – delicious. I don’t know if it’s nostalgia, mother love or inherited taste buds but my heart smiles with every bite.

Whether I like it or not (I do), I am turning into my mother more and more every year; I have her ges-tures, looks, even make her nois-es. I am fifty now, but when I am around her, I am still her little girl. It’s as if nothing has changed – apart from maybe one thing – I am too big to sit on the wash-ing machine now.

Thank you for every-thing Mum. I love you.

My Favorite Mum Memoriesby Janey Womeldorf

Voice

Janey WomeldorfJaney Womeldorf prefers the cone to the ice cream, loves elastic, and spends more than she cares to admit on Starbucks’ lattes. She scribbles away in Orlando, Florida.

37

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Bargain Beauty

Gail Roberson:Bloomingail’s Consignment Tell us a little about yourself. I’m originally from Newport News, Virginia, but moved here in 1992. I have one daughter, Tracy, who lives in Sunset Beach. I live in Little River, but spend many weekends in Oak Island with friends, and I love to shag! I am an active member of the O.D. Shag Club and the Shaggers of Brunswick County (the S.O.B.s) – we call ourselves “Card Carrying S.O.B.s!”

I opened Bloomingail’s in 1997 and have moved six times, each time to a larger building. I’m a true workaholic, but I believe if you love what you do, you’ll never work a day in your life. I enjoy clothes and decorating, but I love a bargain better than anything.

Please share one of your favorite memories of your mother.My mother was a stay at home mom and loved to entertain. I can remember coming home from school and she would have friends over for coffee and cookies. I love to do that, too! There is always a good reason to have a party.

What are your plans for Mother’s Day?Bloomingail’s will be closed on Mother’s Day in honor of all of the mothers who work so hard every other day at Bloomingail’s. Tracy works at Sea Watch Resort, and on Mother’s Day I go have lunch with her – they let her have a break to eat with me, and then she goes back to work.

What’s new at Bloomingail’s?Every day there are 600 new items in Bloomingail’s! We take twelve appointments each day, and people can bring 25 clothing items and 25 household items. If you don’t see something you like today, come back tomorrow and it will be a whole new store.

My goal when I opened Bloomingail’s was to give every woman a chance to have nice things. As women, we know that a new blouse or pair of shoes can make your day. All of our items are high quality, fashionable, clean, neat and ready to wear. Plus, I haven’t raised my prices since I opened. I do carry new costume jewelry and fashion scarves, but everything else is consignment. I encourage everyone to take the short drive to Calabash and make a day of it. It just might change the way you shop!

Bloomingail’s Consignment is located at 9990 Beach Dr., SW in Calabash and is open seven days a week; Monday-Saturday 10 am-5 pm

and Sunday noon-4 pm. Call 910-575-4949 for more information.

39

www.cabanagauze.com

Sasee Kids

State parks contain a wealth of family friendly activities and prices. Locally, Myrtle Beach State Park and Huntington Beach State Park offer programs for children all summer long! Some are free with park admission and others require a small additional charge. Park Passes are a great deal for $75 and cover a year’s admission to any South Carolina State Park.

Myrtle Beach State Park offers programs Tuesday through Satur-day for children ages 5 and up. A Myrtle Beach State Park badge is awarded to children who attend three or more programs.

Children will test their luck catching crabs and other critters during “A Crabby Experience” and meet and greet some unique animals during “Creature Feature.” Your little ones can create a nature-loving masterpiece at “Leaf Your Mark”, where lots of fun pounding and banging puts designs on fabric.

These are just a few of many programs offered for your child’s summer fun – they won’t even realize how much they are learning!

Huntington Beach State Park is a site of the South Carolina Ju-nior Ranger Program, designed to involve your children in ac-tivities that will capture their attention and imagination, while teaching them to protect and enjoy the natural and cultural re-sources of South Carolina State Parks. Parents and grandparents can visit scjrranger.com to learn more.

For older children, Huntington Beach State Park also offers kaya-king and bird watching excursions, both led by trained natural-ists. Hikes with Rangers are programs geared toward getting your children excited about the natural world.

For more information aboutHuntington Beach State Park, call 843-237-4440

or visit southcarolinaparks.com.

For more information aboutMyrtle Beach State Park, call 843-238-0874

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Banish Summer Boredom with a Trip to a State Park

Let’s face it – as much as we all love those free-from-school summer months, it’s easy to let those precious weeks slip by without making quite as many fun memories as we would like. Summer Fun Bingo gives your children and grandchildren a chance to do some of the things they really want to do, plus you’ll love being the center of all the fun!

First, sit down with your children and come up with lots of ideas of fun things to do this summer. Make sure they understand the family budget and include plenty of free, or nearly free, activities.

Make or create blank bingo cards, like the one pictured below. Have each child put an activity in each square to create a personalized card. Keep the cards in a central place where they are easily accessible – under a magnet on the fridge is always a good choice.

Pick an activity each day and have your children mark that activity on their card.(Make sure each child gets a “Bingo” this summer!)

Prizes for getting Bingo can be small items from the dollar store or even handmade gifts, but make it some-thing small. The activity and family togetherness are the real prizes.

Activities on the Bingo board can include the following, but the sky is the limit!

For an account of Summer Fun Bingo, be sure and read “A Better Version of Myself,” by Diane Stark in this issue. Her essay inspired this page!

B I N G O

44

The Accessory Cottage . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 39

Arts & Antiques by the Beach . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 31

Barbara’s Fine Gifts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25

Bienvenue Home . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 29

Bistro 217 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .2

Bloomingails . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 37

Brookgreen Gardens . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 44

Cabana Gauze . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 39

Carolina Car Care . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19

CHD Interiors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .3

Chive Blossom Cafe . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 23

Christopher’s Fine Jewelry . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 12

Coastal Dance Centre . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15

The Crab Cake Lady Co . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 33

Cuckoo’s Nest Home Consignments . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .2

Darden Jewelers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 29

David Grabeman, D .D .S ., P .A . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .9

Doodlebugs Children’s Finery & Gifts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15

Douglas Diamond Jewelers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 37

Downtown Pawleys . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .2

Dr . Sattele’s Rapid Weight Loss & Esthetics Centers . . . 17

Elan Day Spa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 39

Eleanor Pitts Fine Gifts & Jewelry . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .5

Feather Your Nest . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 23

Finders Keepers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 12

The Flamingo Porch . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 31

Gallery of Oriental Rugs . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 31

Grady’s Jewelers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .9

Graham Golf Cars . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19

Harvest Commons on Commerce . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 33

Hats Galore LLC . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19

Heartfelt Calling . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 29

Homespun Crafters Mall . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 37

The Joggling Board . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .9

The Kangaroo Pouch . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11

Kingston Village Dentistry . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 21

Advertiser Index

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Legacy Antiques . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11

Litchfield Dance Arts Academy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 23

Long Bay Symphony . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 47

McLeod Health . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 48

Mercy Care Hospice . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 33

Miller-Motte Myrtle Beach . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 31

Millie’s . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 23

Mister Sparky . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11

Moore Farms Botanical Garden . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 33

Morningside of Georgetown . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 44

My Sister’s Books . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 12

Palmetto Ace Home Center . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 21

Park Smith . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 21

Pawleys Island Swimwear . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13

The Pink Cabana . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 24

Pounds Away of Myrtle Beach . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 45

Primarily Pine . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 35

Pure Palmetto Southern Outfitters . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 47

Rainbow Harbor . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25

Rioz Brazilian Steakhouse . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 35

Rose Arbor Fabrics & Interiors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25

St . Somewhere . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 16

Sea Island Trading Co . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .7

Seven Seas Seafood Market . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 37

Shades & Draperies . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .5

Shop the Avenues . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 24

Simply Divine . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .2

Simply Sophia . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 16

Strand Styling Studio . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 47

Studio 77 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 24

Swamp Fox Art Gallery . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 35

Take 2 Resale . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15

Taz . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .5

The Thinking Monkey . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 24

Two Sisters with Southern Charm . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 45

Ultra Tan . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 29

Victoria Dianne’s Rejuvenation Center & Day Spa . . . 13

WEZV . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 16

Winyah Fitness Center . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .2

843-215-7262www.poundsawayofmb.com • No appointment necessary

4691 Dick Pond Rd. | Unit C | Myrtle Beach, SC 29588Tuesdays & Thursdays 4 pm-7:15 pm • Wednesdays 10 am-1 pm

One Saturday a month 10 am-1 pm (Call for Saturdays)Like us on facebook for occasional special offers!

We’ll help you get beach body ready!

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May2014

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17th 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.

Boeing Boeing, Swamp Fox Players, Strand Theater, Georgetown. For times and ticket info, call 843-527-2924 or visit swampfoxplayers.com.

Annual Blessing of the Inlet, Belin United Methodist Church, Murrells Inlet, 9 am-4 pm. For more info, call 843-651-7979 or visit blessingoftheinlet.com.

Rivertown Music and Craft Beer Festival, 11 am-9 pm, Conway. For more info, call 843-248-6260 or visit conwayalive.com.

Porgy and Bess: The Glory of Gershwin, Carolina Master Chorale, 10th – St. Paul’s Church, Conway; 11th – Trinity Church, Myrtle Beach. For more info, call 843-444-5774 or visit CarolinaMasterChorale.com.

Waterway Art Association 22nd Annual Exhibit & Sale, Brunswick Community College Extension, Route 17, Calabash, N.C. For more info call 910-575-7981 or visit waterwayart.org.

C.A.N. (Champion Autism Network) parents’ group meeting, 5:30 pm, Surfside Beach Library. For more info, call 609-744-0099.

Moveable Feast, Jane Spillane discusses My Life with Mickey, 11 am, Location TBD, $25. For more info, call 843-235-9600 or visit classatpawleys.com.

Blue Crab Festival, 9 am-6 pm, Little River. For more info, call 843-249-6604 or visit bluecrabfestival.org.

Ocean Isle Concert Series, Fridays, 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.

“Wines of the World, A Midsummer Night’s Dream,” wine tasting, hors d’ oeuvres, music & dance vignettes, 5:30-8:30 pm, $30, Litchfield Dance Arts Academy, 97 Otis Drive, Pawleys Island. For more info, call 843-237-7465.

Coastal Uncorked, various events throughout Myrtle Beach. For more info, call 843-626-9668 or visit coastaluncorked.com.

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843.448.8379www.LONGBAYSYMPHONY.com

GOING FOR BAROQUEfeaturing William Terwilliger and Erin Althoff, violins; Ashley Solis, organ

SATURDAY, MAY 17, 2014 7:00 PMTrinity Church, Myrtle Beach

SUNDAY, MAY 18, 2014 4:00 PMWinyah Auditorium, Georgetown CALL

NOW!SEATS STILL AVAILABLE

Long Bay Symphony Chamber Orchestra

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As a recipient of the 2014 Distinguished Hospital Award for Clinical Excellence™ by Healthgrades®, the leading online resource for comprehensive information about physicians and hospitals, McLeod is rated among the top 5% of more than 4,500 hospitals nationwide for its clinical performance.

“Every hospital aims to provide the highest quality care and many hospitals have specific areas of expertise and produce high-quality outcomes. However, McLeod stands out by exhibiting superior performance and comprehensive high-quality care across multiple clinical specialties,” said Conor Tuttle, of Healthgrades.

Being singled out as one of the top hospitals in the nation for our clinical excellence is quite an honor. The credit for this honor belongs to our dedicated and experienced physicians who use their knowledge and skills to provide the highest quality care for our patients. And to the nurses and other healthcare professionals who also put our patients first every day. Together, our nationally recognized team continues to provide medical excellence with one goal: your good health and well-being.

McLeodMcLeodHonors.org

McLeod2014 Distinguished

Hospital Award– Clinical Excellence™ –

Recognized Among the Top 5% in the Nation for Clinical Excellence