Home is where the heart is...

Today I worked. Sales Calls are always fun to me. I love people. It is the fun part of my day job. Going out and meeting people, letting them know what services I offer (get your mind out of the gutter) I'm talking Customer service here. Anyway, It's always fun and I have the best customers in the world! However, to get to some of my customer's offices I do have to drive a bit. Today it was an hour and half one way and then back. This doesn't really bother me as it gives me time to clear my brain. There is something wonderful about the black ribbon of aphsalt that can make the cobwebs of the brain disappear as if they never were to begin with. The car is quiet. I have my coffee, my music, my cigarettes, and I don't need much more than that for peacefulness. It is then that my mind begins to wander and ask the questions of what if?

My brain came up with this sentence. I love the visual it gives.

The trees were a vibrant green against a bruised and battered sky.

I know that it is a simple sentence, and maybe not even a particularly good one. But if you have ever been in North Carolina right before a thunderstorm hits, that is what it looks like. The sky looks to be a dark purple-grayish color in the background which intensifies the green of the trees. It is one of the things I missed most when I lived in Dallas. That bruised North Carolina storm ridden sky.

I grew up in Charleston, SC. Charleston is full of history, ghost stories, and old ancient houses that stand guard like long lost sentinels of the past. You have the whistling ghost, Dock Street Theater where Poe's mother was an actress at one time, long avenues of Oaks that lead to the front of beautiful old plantation houses. (Ones of course that weren't burned to the ground through Sherman's firery rath) I once heard some women talking in a gift shop. The two women were tourists of a Northern persuasion. They were complaining that they thought there should have been more plantation houses to visit. Might I add that they were complaining rather loudly as well. These two ladies were to my left. To my right two older Charlestonian women with raised eyebrows that were listening intently. (That should have been my first clue to vacate my immediate position stat.) But I am not always the smartest apple in the cart and being the young southern girl I was at the time, I wanted to see how my southern peers would handle this situation. They didn't dissappoint me. You see, you can tell older southern women by what they wear. This has not changed since I was a young girl. I think that when you live in the south and turn 50 there is a handbook that they give you that tells you what you are supposed to do. No Southern woman in her right mind would leave the house without being properly dressed. [This includes going to the mailbox to get the mail]This means big round pearl earrings[clip ons of course,], your grandmother's pearls, a hat, the biggest ugliest aligator purse you can find, and gold tennis shoes. (I'm really not kidding about the gold colored tennis shoes, but I think this fad had passed thank the heavens) So you always know the Charlestonians by their dress. That and the drawl. It is not like a Scarlett O'Hara drawl either. It is the extra added syllables that you toss in there for fun. Like road becomes rowad, and dollar becomes dollah. Anyway, I'm getting off the subject.

So these two sets of women eye each other. (This scared me.) The Northern ladies became louder and then pronounced to the general populace around them. "Can anyone here tell us why there aren't more plantations?) Well, they had opened the door.

The two Southern women responsed something like this if memory serves me correctly:
"Mary Margaret, do you think they are speaking to us?"
"I do believe they are Carol."
They look to the other two ladies of Northern persuasion. "Are you speaking to us?" They ask in unison.

The other ladies, obviously not aware that the civil war is still being fought to this day in Charleston, responded. "Why yes. Do you know of any other plantation homes we might visit. We thought there would be so many more."

My ladies clucked their tongues, wet their lips and began.
"Honey, the reason there aren't more of the beautiful plantation houses is because YOUR man SHERMAN burned them to the ground. It wasn't enough that we lost our men and our Father's but he had to burn our homes too. So, why don't you go ask the ancestor's of Sherman why you don't have anything to look at..."

And with that they huffed off leaving the other two ladies with their mouths hanging open. Then the other said. "Well, so much for Southern Hospitatlity."

I, of course, knowing what was going to happen before it did, snickered and moved off to avoid any further flying verbal shrapnal.

Charleston is very proud of it's heritage, as am I.
I just thought that was a cute little story because things like this happen all the time downtown.
No offense intended to anyone, we Charlestonian's are still just a little sore about that whole war thing. We never forget anything, especially our dead.

Things I don't miss about Charleston:
-The smell of the papermill
-Getting stuck on the old bridge in beach traffic and feeling the bridge swaying to and fro. No, you could actually see it swaying. Used to scare the tar out of me.
-Mosquito's
-Nats or No seeums. These suckers are serious about their blood, and they swarm.
-Water bugs as big as the size of your palms. They are NOT afraid of you! I repeat these bugs laugh at you when you pull out a can of Raid. Best results are achieved when spraying them with Final Net and setting them on fire.
-Beach Traffic.

Things I miss about Charleston and Home:
-My Daddy's laughter
-My Mother's (aka Sweetie's) smile & laughter
-My Mother's friends at the beauty shop. They are a wonderful bunch of women and they make me laugh.
-Long nights shrimping in the Charleston harbor and then pinching the heads off the nights catch.
-Crabbing.
-My Grandmother and Grandfather. (Wilma and Wallace, I love you and think of you everyday.)
-My Great Aunt Alma. Who has the best sense of humor in the entire human population.
-The way the sun sets over the water on the Isle of Palms
-The smell of the ocean on the eveing breeze no matter where you are.
-And finally being around the ocean period. I feel landlocked and out of place. The ocean is a balm, the lapping of waves can erase stress in a way I've found no other place can.

Hugs to all,
Michelle