Grab Your Coates and Get Your Hat

Finding history in Charleston is like finding something sweet in a candy store. Everywhere you look you find another visually tasty morsel.

Coates Row, however, is not one of those tidbits that locals boast of when prompted only because it has been what it is throughout its existence.

Depending on which you hold to be more accurate, the structures were built either in the 1680’s or shortly after Thomas Coates saw fit to purchase the property in the late 1780’s. Either way, the story remains the same - the properties are the oldest commercially used set of storefronts in Charleston, due to the fact that they are still open for business to this date.

Since their inception, Mr. Coates decided to allow multiple businesses in the group of buildings housed at the addresses between 114-120 East Bay Street. With little to no reference - without extensive research - there is miniscule mention of much else beside the taverns either initiated by Mr. Coates or by his wife, Catherine.

The first was the Harris Tavern, later renamed the French Coffee House, due to the regularity of the gathering of the Jacobin Club (French American immigrants aligned with the French revolutionists). The possibility that the activities of these particular individuals contributed to the American Revolution or its activities would be speculation, but many colonists looked with favor on the happenings in France. Significant among their membership was Robespierre who led the club as president. However, there is no indication that neither Mr. nor Mrs. Coates were associated with this group of revelers.

Mrs. Coates decided to try her hand at handling the bar. This experience prompted her to open her own java inspired establishment, The Carolina Coffee House. Other names

for the two taverns operated by the couple included Tavern on the Bluff and Mrs. Coates Tavern on the Bay.

Through the years, the names of these buildings went through many changes. It is probable that the multitude of varying nomenclature originated due to the close proximity from wharf to drink. The large number of sailors frequenting the taverns while waiting for their ships to arrive or unload or load, each swabby remembered the pub and its name in their own groggy way.

The current group of retail stores does include one of Charleston´s more well-known alcohol shops, the ABC Package Store.

So, however you color it, as much as things change, they still seem to have some semblance of the same at the keg’s core.

~ David Joyner

An (Extra) Ordinary Love

Depending on your age, the concept of celebrating an anniversary floods the senses with a myriad of images that range from the mundane to the ephemeral. Many well-known, overused phrases from the husband caught in that instant the wife asks, “Honey, what did you get me for our anniversary?” to the trend-setting, budget-busting, movie-scripted soiree talked about on the society pages for ages to come to the forefront of my mind.

The other side of the anniversary celebration deals with the original moment being celebrated and the person or persons involved. The common idea immediately brought to mind is a wedding celebration. So common is the theme that there are lists involved which tell us what the gifts for celebrating should represent. Silver, gold, and diamonds are the most obvious images that jump out. Paper, wood, and cotton don´t elicit shrieks of joy when the parties start for the first, fifth, and second commemorations when those get-togethers are held.

Wedding anniversaries are the most commonly celebrated, and they provide the benchmarks for all long-lived marriages, but they are not necessarily the most meaningful events that are cause for remembrance. Life has those moments that provide common ground for conversation amongst family and friends that sometimes make those special moments even more deeply felt.

I would suggest to those who know me and my lovely wife and our sons, that the heart and soul of any celebration here revolves around a profound understanding that none of the traditional themes enjoyed could be had without having made a conscious and very personal decision related to faith and spirituality. All the other decisions thus build on that foundation. Looking at life through that filter brings a

certain meaning to the most important decisions made after that. I, for one, am convinced that faith has painted our lives with brilliant and deeply saturated colors which make our celebrations more exciting and meaningful regardless of the theme or the number of years past.

So, you might be surprised to see the tears flow when invited to celebrate the day Jeannie and I met, or the day she said she would go steady, or the day we were married, or any of our birthdays (especially the boys), or the day John got his first pair of glasses, or Brandon graduated from kindergarten after learning to tie his shoes, or so on. A lot of love has been shared here by family and friends.

The memories from those years bring tears of joy as we light the candles on the cakes designed for the occasion at hand. Typically, we gather in a circle around the bar in the kitchen, share thoughts and jokes about the time gone by, and then a prayer of thanks for all those here and gone and the joy each brought. This year is our 53rd Anniversary and I am moved by the totality of the moments and the memories that have made those years so full. It is somewhat appropriate that all the charts claim paper as the representative image of this anniversary because this blog is my digital dissertation in its place. My wife and sons, our family and friends – these are the gifts that bring me the true feeling of blessedness one hopes for when celebrating all our special moments.

Yes, anniversaries around here are a big deal and so are the celebrations that go with them.

For those wondering – 73, 53, 50, and 40. Also – first Tuesday after Labor Day, December 22nd, and March 22nd.

Thanks, and praise for all those days.

~ David Joyner

Oh, Yes! They Call Him the Streak

My Mom and I were always close. She had such a sweet personality and that's why people liked to be around her. I was no exception and I tried to visit her every day – even if just for a few minutes.  

We would shop together, cook together, visit friends together, sew together, and definitely talk... talk... talk... together. 

She was a night-owl like me - or should I say – me, like her. She rarely went to bed before one or two in the morning and sometimes later than that.  

My mom was an excellent cook and my mouth still waters when I think about her rice and gravy (Mmmm!), fried chicken, fresh fried fish (caught and cleaned by my dad), pot roast with onions and carrots and potatoes (no one ever made it better), mac and cheese, and - oh yes - hot boiled peanuts (fresh green peanuts, boiled for hours to perfection). 

One balmy summer evening, we decided she would come to our apartment, make an evening of it, and boil a pot of peanuts. 

She came over around 11:30 that night and we pulled out a big ole pot, filled it with green peanuts, and started cooking them. We could hardly wait till they were finished.  

We lived in an apartment on the second floor with a door that led out to a back deck with a stairway that led down to the green area out back. Since it was such a beautiful evening, I decided to leave the sliding glass door open with the screen pulled closed but not locked - big mistake! 

Jeannie, what were you thinking? 

Obviously, I was NOT thinking! And so, thinking about it no more, I went back into the living room to join my mom. 

The peanuts had begun to boil so I decided to go give them a stir. I did this about every 30 minutes or so. 

I was standing at the stove facing the deck when something caught my attention out the corner of my eye. Not moving my head at all but just moving my eyes a little... to try to get a glimpse of whatever it was... 

I spotted something in the shadows. 

There, crouched down on the stairs, was a guy. And all I could see of him was a little of his face and the top of his head. 

At that point, I hadn't had time to take it all in. All I could think about doing was to carry on a conversation with my mom and also pretend there were lots of other people in the living room with her – both men and women.  

“Hey mom,” I said, “I need some of those strong men in there to come help me pick up this heavy pot of delicious peanuts!” 

I walked back into the living room to let my mom know what was really going on and to carry on a conversation with those “make-believe guests.” Maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't come in the back door if he thought other people were there in the apartment. 

As I walked back into the kitchen, I saw him turn around and quietly tip-toe his way back down the steps. At that point, I scooted over to the sliding glass door, pulled it shut, and locked it. 

“Whew, I'm glad that worked,” I thought to myself. 

I went to the light switch and cut off all the lights in the kitchen and opened the window curtains. 

I saw him. 

He was walking away, cutting through hedges that were growing in between the two apartment buildings. 

There was a street light next to our building. He stepped out into the light. 

“Brave soul, wasn't he?” 

His attire left a little to be desired, for all he had on was a red plaid shirt. That was all - no shoes, no socks, no pants, no underwear! 

“Hmm... Wonder what he was planning?” I thought to myself. 

No, I did not call the police. Stupid? Yes! 

As I thought about the incident later, I should have done just that, because the police may have been able to catch him and possibly prevented the situation from occurring again. 

Hindsight is 20-20, right? 

My mom and I laughed about that “peeping Tom” memory for many years after. Thank goodness it turned out OK, but who knows what could have happened had he not decided to leave. 

Do I leave the backdoor open anymore? Not on your life! 

We still continued to boil peanuts together for years. I can still taste them - just enough salt and so tender they would melt in your mouth. Our old local icon, Tony the “peanut man,” had nothing on my Mom when it came to boiling peanuts. 

Who knows, Tony and Mom could be boiling peanuts in heaven together right now! 

~ Jeannie Joyner 

Winnie the What Now?!

I’ve been friends with my buddy Clay since we were three years old. Pictures exist of us in kindergarten in complimentary Bugs Bunny and Donald Duck costumes. So… you know… we were tight.

After I moved to a different part of town, we became reacquainted in high school and our parents did too. If there is one thing that we did share, it was a love of Disney.

A couple of times a year, Clay and Carol (his momma) and myself and my mom would hop in a vehicle and tour all corners of the Magic Kingdom and its outlying areas.

I have sooooo many memories of the funky adventures that we had all over but most were in the Orlando area. Just to highlight a few…

· Carol, lip-syncing Elton John with a napkin on her head late night at Taco Bell.

· Tara – my high school sweetheart – trying to get into the wrong car at a rest stop.

· Ginny – another high school traveling pal – getting lost when she was looking at koi in the koi pond.

· My own mother, yelling at me that she didn’t have the three hundred dollars that she later admitted to having.

Like I said… I’m lousy with stories this side of funny. I’m sure that in later writings —right here, we’ll uncover some of the hilarity. There was one that stands out above the rest.

At the end of the day, Carol loves to laugh. Even more so, if you get Carol laughing, it’s hard to get her to stop. Not that you’d want to.

On one of our many trips, on the way home, Carol decided she was going to tell a joke. A dirty one at that.

And so, six hours outside of Charleston, South Carolina, it began...

“The first day of first grade, the teacher stands in front of her class. She says to her students, ‘Hello, class. Since you’re moving from kindergarten into grade school, we’ll be using more adult words. Who wants to tell about their summer vacation?’”

“After saying this, Shaun stands up and runs to the front of the class.”

“’Alright, Shaun. Tell us about your summer vacation.’”

“Shaun starts, ‘I went to visit my aunt and rode on a choo choo.’”

“The teacher stops him and says, ‘Not a choo choo but a…’”

“’A train.’”

“’A train. That’s right.’”

Around this point, Carol starts to chuckle. And chuckle. And chuckle. And can’t stop.

It was miles and miles and arriving in Georgia before we’d hear the next part.

“The next child went to the front of the class and the teacher says, ‘Tammy, tell us about your summer vacation.’”

“Tammy starts, ‘This summer, I visited a farm and got to milk a moo moo.’”

“The teacher stops Tammy. ‘Tammy, not a moo moo, but a—‘”

“’A cow.’”

“’Right, a cow,’ the teacher replied.”

Again, we lose Carol. Whether it was knowing what was coming in the end or having our rapt attention, she couldn’t stop laughing.

It wouldn’t be before we broke through the South Carolina border before the third act of this spectacular theatrically-presented joke was to be presented.

“One of the other boys in the class, Dylan, would proudly march up to the front of the classroom. He didn’t need any help from the teacher.”

“’This summer… my parents and I… went to Disney World… And…”

“Hehehehehehehhehehehehehehheheheh.” A high pitch cackle permeated the entire van. It was emanating from Carol. And it wouldn’t stop. “Heheheheheheheheheheheheheheheh.” This was… special.

And slightly deafening. It wasn’t until we pulled into the driveway...

“’This summer my parents and I went to Disney World and we met Winnie the S---!’”

You can fill in the rest.

The entire car burst into a mixture of tears and laughter, some of them due to the joke finally being completed, others due to the shrieking that was coming out of Carol. You never heard such slightly blue language coming from a tight-lipped Baptist woman. Especially not in Sunday school. But this wasn’t Sunday school at all. So, it’s okay.

There are many Disney/Carol stories to go around. And they’re all true. As the old sea shanty goes…

Got a whale of a tale to tell ya, lads

A whale of a tale or two

'Bout the flappin' fish and the girls I've loved

On nights like this with the moon above

A whale of a tale and it's all true

I swear by my tattoo.

Disney might have said that it all started with a Mouse, this adventure ends in a bear covered in honey among many other unspeakable things.

~ Brandon L. Joyner

The Love Bug

Love?  

What’s love?  

It means a lot; makes me feel happy and exciting and joyful. 

When I was younger, I didn’t have that much... No one in church really, but in school... I had a couple little girlfriends. Tasha was my first one... There was Laura and Angie... I had one in particular... it was Tammy.  

We dated.  

We went to the beach and we went to the fair. When we went to the beach, we talked and played in the sand and the ocean. And at the fair, we went to a Louise Mandrell concert. And, after a while I didn’t keep up with the dating part that well.  

We didn’t really keep in touch because we moved and went separate ways. She was my last serious girlfriend. But, other than that... I haven’t had much luck with women now and finding the right female. I’m still searching... can’t really figure that out. 

I’m not sure, I’m still I still haven’t found what I’m looking for. 

Showing love? You give them gifts or presents. Like if someone gets married, this shows love... it’s the person like and never want to spend a day without them. 

There’re different types of Love. Besides romantic love... There’re plenty of other ways that I love. I love family and friends. I don’t know what other kind of love I can give you... OK—here they are: 

Valentine’s Love – It's a time where you can give somebody something. Like soft (stuffed) animal or candies. And flowers as well... my favorite type of flower I don’t have a favorite, but to give fore Valentine’s day... red rose would be one of them.  

And type of candy? Chocolates!  

For the animals, a toy dog or twin kissing bears. Also, some soft music... that’s what I do. Romance Music, like Kenny Rogers and Lorrie Morgan and different love music.  No, actually, um... I listen to something Bobby Vinton “Roses are Red.” My favorite love song is very hard to pick...  

When Valentine’s Day rolls around, the first song I want to listen to is “Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain” by Willie Nelson. 

Romantic Love – Same thing I was talking about earlier... there’s a difference from just Valentine’s Day... it’s more than a crush. You tell someone how much deeper you feel about them. You can watch movies and see this love; like Sleepless in Seattle, Runaway Bride, French Love. 

Wedding Love – You tell somebody you love them. You get down one knee (I guess... no, I’m right on that one... yeah!) - you tell them that you love them, “Will you such and such (fill in the blank, though), Will you marry me? (That’s how you propose to them), you will probably shock them... they might be surprised (and hopefully they’ll be happy and say YES). And then, you KISS them! Other people will then congratulate you. That’s when the wedding happens. 

Anniversary Love – Then, after the wedding and reception... comes the Anniversary (or as Brandon likes to call it... “Your time served.”) Every year you’ll celebrate your anniversary. Well, I don’t remember... cause I’m not married. But, I’m sure there would be a celebration. I’d take ‘em out. To a fancy restaurant or an outing like somewhere downtown or vacation somewhere. 

Friendship & Family Love – Friendship love. Family always like my brother and parents and sometimes my grandparents and aunts and uncles and my cousins. I show my love by hugs and general love... that kinda thing. Friends, oh... you just um hug ‘em and talk and hangout... spend some time with them. 

Soul-Mate? Do I believe in it? Yes. Am I looking for one? What am I looking for in one? I don’t know... Well, my perfect person... for me—who's nice, kind, and beautiful, who you want to share your life with and who you want to live with and wants to do/like the same things I do... like this person would like country and not just such and such... this other person likes something and I won’t like something—it's not necessarily a bad thing, it’s just different. 

Is it hard or easy? It depends on who you like... that’s the hard part. 

I don’t have any more thoughts on love... not to my knowledge... Just that I’m still looking. And, this: Anyone out there that’s still looking for love... keep trying. Don’t give up. Whenever you might least expect it, true love might come along! 

The United States Supreme Fort

(A Brief History of Fort Moultrie)

Sullivan’s Island, home to Fort Moultrie, has served throughout history by protecting Charleston’s Harbor as the first line of defense against invasion, both in force and health. Fort Moultrie, once boasting 5.3 acres of seafront defense, is located between Stations 14 and 16 ½ (from Middle Street to Thompson Avenue) with the official address of 1214 Middle Street.  

One of the original log cabins and first of known forts on the island, Fort Moultrie (at the time known as Fort Sullivan) was initially constructed of Palmetto trunks and sand under the supervision of Captain De Brahm. It was not yet even fully formed when it was first attacked by the British warships in 1776. The fort was slated, in square design, to have 10-foot-high rows of palmetto logs in parallels, but at the time only stood 7-feet high with corner bastions and cavaliers along the rear walls. 

Despite its incomplete state, in the Battle of Sullivan’s Island, Colonel William Moultrie and his men fortified the island and stood their ground, saving Charleston (then, Charlestown) from British occupation. Throughout British occupation, from 1780–1782, the fort was known as Fort Arbuthnot. During this battle, Moultrie flew a flag of his own design, authorized by the colonial government – later called the Moultrie or Liberty flag – which became iconic to the Revolution in the South. Charleston locals celebrate “Carolina Day” to commemorate the bravery of the defenders of the fort. 

In 1793, war broke out between Great Britain and France. The Congress, seeking to safeguard American shores, authorized a second Fort Moultrie to be built. The fort was finally completed in 1798, but then suffered from much neglect. And, then, in 1804, it was destroyed by the Antigua-Charleston hurricane. 

It wasn’t until 1809 that this fortification, undergoing it’s third rendition, was finally completed, though very little changed from its original design-build. In the 1820s the fort began to record meteorological observations. Then, post secession, in December of 1860 it was abandoned when Union soldiers fled to the stronger structures of Fort Sumter. 

On April 12, 1861, at 4:30 AM, Confederate flares fired upon Fort Sumter and thus began the American Civil War. Fort Moultrie was severely damaged. Post surrender of Fort Sumter, Confederate forces used Fort Moultrie to protect Charleston’s harbor until February 1865 when they fled the city, again leaving the fort behind. 

Once the American wars ended, the fort was repaired and modernized by the Army for use during WWs I and II with additions of concrete bunkers to this coastal defense system. A comprehensive upgrade of the fortifications of the entire US coast were implemented with the outbreak of WWII. More batteries were built along the coast, including the BCN 520 (Battery Construction Number) at Fort Moultrie’s stronghold, which were armed with guns previously used at Battery Kimble in Galveston, TX. 

Then, in 1947, on August 15th, Fort Moultrie’s flag flew for a final time, thus ending its years of service in defense of the US as it had become obsolete with the advent of nuclear weapons and guided missiles. 

In 1960 the fort was decommissioned by the DOD and became part of the National Park Service as Fort Sumter and Fort Moultrie National Historic Park, boasting the only location that the entire defense history is traceable by the NPS. And, on September 6, 2007 all of its 171-year history was added to the National Register of Historic Places. Today, the Harbor Entrance Control Post has been preserved and the BCN 520, still remaining from WWII, is now a private residence. 

While we wouldn’t recommend knocking on the door to 520 for a behind the scenes tour, the visitor’s center at the fort features a mini-museum and shows a short film on the history of Fort Moultrie that many enjoy daily! 

~ Kristen N. Granet

~

All the Wrong Moves

My father was a practical joker. If he had an opportunity to play a joke on someone, he would. I've already written blogs on some of the crazy shenanigans he has pulled! 

My mom would get so upset with him. 

But did he ever stop? Absolutely not!  

We lived in downtown Charleston close to King Street when I was in elementary school. My mom's best friend, Louise, came from a family of six girls. And when Louise’s younger sister, Annette, wanted to move to Charleston from Kingstree, S.C. - to get a job on King Street - it was suggested that she move in with us for a while to save money. It was settled. She would do just that.  

Annette got a job at one of the dime stores on King Street so all she had to do was walk a few blocks to work. 

At that time, the kinds of jobs that most of the young people would apply for during the summers or before they were getting ready to go off to college were at stores such as Woolworths, Kress, and Silver’s - small mini-department stores, predecessors of today’s Belk’s. 

Annette was a feisty, beautiful, young woman with long dark hair and had no problem attracting the opposite sex. She was fun-loving and she and my mom were always laughing and having a good ole time. 

Like I told you before, my dad was always up to no good; and with Annette living with us, that just gave him another person - another opportunity - to pull off one of his practical jokes. 

Annette had met this gorgeous, tall, blonde, blue-eyed hunk and he had asked her out on a date. Annette, playing hard to get, put him off for a while before she finally agreed to go on a date with him. 

Annette had come home from work to tell my dad that she had accepted a date with this guy. 

“Ed [as she always called my dad] I have a date on Saturday night at 7:00 o'clock. He's taking me to dinner,” she said. 

Big mistake!  

The wheels in my dad's head started turning. 

Saturday night rolled around and Annette had taken all afternoon to get ready for the date. And she really was excited! She had been thinking about it all week. 

7:00 P.M. rolled around - no date. 

7:05 P.M. - no date. Annette was a little antsy but maybe something had just delayed him. 

7:15 P.M. -- 7:30 P.M. -- 7:45 P.M. - by this time, she was boiling mad. 

“If he thinks he can stand me up like this, he's got another think coming.” 

And, my dad was just making everything worse by talking about how wrong it was for her date to stand her up like that. 

7:55 P.M. – knock, knock. 

“Ed,” Annette said to my dad. “Someone's at the door. Ed?” 

No answer from my dad. 

So, Annette had to go to the door. 

She flung the door open and there standing with the biggest grin that you ever saw was her date. 

He started to say how excited he was that she was going out with him. At that point, she slammed the door in his face so hard that the windows rattled. 

In that instant, we heard a little snickering of laughter coming from the entrance to my dad's bedroom. Annette turned around to look at my dad and at that point, he burst out laughing. 

 “Ed,” Annette shouted, “What did you do? What did you do?”  

He confessed to turning the clock back an hour, so in reality, this poor guy was really five minutes early for their date - not an hour late as Dad had led her to believe.  

By this time her face was beet red. 

“Oh, my goodness,” she said as she ran to the door. She threw it open and there standing just where she had left him was her date with the most puzzled look on his face that you had ever seen. 

She grabbed his arm, trying to pull him into the apartment, with him hesitating a little, not knowing what was going on... 

“Ed,” she exclaimed, “you tell him exactly what is going on - exactly what you did, or I'm going to kill you.” 

My dad came over to Annette’s date, shook his hand, and explained everything. At that time, we all had a good laugh. 

What a way to start a date. 

From then on when Annette had a date coming to our house to pick her up, she carried the clock around with her and never let it get out of her sight until time for her date to arrive. 

Would you EVER trust someone who did that to you? 

Who’s got the time?!? 

~ Jeannie Joyner 

Two Tickets To Not Paradise, Exactly…

As the Beatles once said… “Baby, you can drive my car.”

It wasn’t until I was almost 18 that I got my driver’s license. To those of you who were unaware, you can thank my parents’ uncommon approach to a split generation pair of only children for this particular blessing.

I remember looking for cars as soon I was notified that this was even a possibility. Like so many that came before, I wanted a sports car.

Let’s be honest. None of us are looking at the classiest of all minivans. (Although… my friend Tom did have a van large enough to have a window with actual working blinds, ladies.)

The car that I had set my sights on was a 1982 Corvette Stingray.

Red, black, white. Color was not an issue. As long as I could be seen cutting through traffic with that sweet, sweet molded fiberglass body. The amazing part of this was how little money this was going to set my parents back.

These beauts only cost about six-grand. A steal in any decade. But especially those where ads on the TV would have gigantic numbers tumbling from the sky declaring that the newest model of this and that was still under 10K MSRP. Whatever those letters meant…

So… My parents did what any other caring family member would do.

They called a family member in Walterboro, South Carolina, and spent about a thousand dollars on a 1988 Subaru station wagon. Truly, the envy of every high school student this side of the Ashley.

I did not love this car.

But it had wheels. And seats. And ran. And a lot of other basic things.

Let me restate. I did not love this car… immediately.

I slapped on a dark grey bat decal on the tailgate and so it became: THE BATMOBILE.

CUT TO:

College – a couple years later. While I would eventually end up at the College of Charleston (Go, Cougars!), I spent the first half of the first year of the new millennium at Newberry College.

It probably was a wonderful school with wonderful teachers and a wonderful campus… But it wasn’t home. I decided that I was going to drive home. Every. Weekend.

And, I did for many of those months.

It took a little over two hours from point A to Point B. But…

I found that speed limits were just a suggestion. Only 65 miles an hour? I can’t drive 65. 85… 90… maybe 95? That’s more like it.

I was making the sojourn back to Charleston after my 9 AM Friday psychology course and from my rear window… Red. Blue. Red. Blue. So on and so forth. I was only a few minutes out of Newberry and there was a cop tailing me.

This was the first time I had ever gotten pulled.

Sure, I had heard stories from my pretty blonde girlfriends that the police were so nice. Just be polite. Hands on the wheel. Have all the information they ask for. You’ll be rewarded with a simple warning. How could this logic ever not work?

Did I mention this was my first time getting pulled?

“License and registration.”

“Um… Okay.”

While I’m getting said documentation, “Do you know how fast you were going?”

“Um… No. Sorry, sir. OFFICER! Officer, sir. No…”

He takes the information. “Stay in the vehicle.”

My mind is reeling. Keep it cool, man. This is your first time. Like everyone says. You’ll just get a warning.

“Here you are.” I had won a ticket for $150 bucks and a coupla points.

“Thank you?”

“Slow down, you hear?”

And it was over. Or so I thought.

I still had to break the news to my parents.

There were words had. Declarations made. All of that’s a blur, honestly. What isn’t was leaving Charleston just 48 hours later. I was pulled again. Again, for speeding. Again, a ticket. No warning.

I was becoming a seasoned pro at this. Who needs ten thousand hours, amirite?

The second violation was dropped, thankfully. Knowing people in your hometown might be rare but also can help you get out of having to own your stupidity from time to time.

FLASH FORWARD:

A few weeks later, I’m with my dad at the Newberry Court House. I stood in front of a judge and pled guilty to the charges. The judge and officer were kind enough to shave a little bit off the top of the fine and points. But I was still in for a good chunk of change.

Running into the officer while paying the fine, he advised my father that he didn’t love pulling me over. And he might not have… had I not passed his clearly marked vehicle going 15 miles over the speed limit.

The moral of this story? If you’re going to break the law – check the plates or at least the side of the car. You might be doing something naughty in front of someone who has the power to arrest you.

Or just don’t break the law in the first place. That’s probably a better takeaway.

I have been pulled about twenty times over the last twenty-plus years… But there really is nothing like your first. I’ve slowed down in my slightly advanced years. Yet, I still feel the need for speed from time to time and must remind myself to pull off the accelerator, lest we repeat the sins of our youth.

And from time to time, I flick on the radio and hear those Fab Four.

“Baby, you can drive my car. And maybe? [Just maybe,] I’ll love you.”

~ Brandon L. Joyner

You Will Get Wet On This Ride

Friendships are so important and true friends are really hard to find, especially ones that last a lifetime. We have friends who come and go – friends who are there for you in the good times, but as soon as things get unpleasant or complicated those “friends” disappear.

Reid has been our friend forever; through both the good and bad times! He was friends with my husband long before I came into the picture and has remained a dear friend all of our lives.

He’s always had such a sweet spirit and just so funny; always trying to make us laugh. Ever the jokester, he was always trying to get others to laugh and bring some joy. And we have had many laughs with him over the years and we pray we have many more.

I remember on one occasion we were at church preparing for the evening Christmas service when Reid showed up unexpectedly. David and I were quite involved with the preparations and Reid decided to entertain our son while we were doing so. John, our, then, 3-year-old son, is handicapped, and at that particular time, he had not begun to walk yet; so, he had to be carried everywhere.

Reid had picked John up and put him on his shoulders and had begun to hop up and down to make John laugh. John was just howling with laughter because he thought Reid was the funniest person he had ever met.

David, my husband, said, “Reid, I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

Reid just ignored David as usual and kept jumping up and down. And, John just laughed and laughed louder and louder!

“Reid,” David said, “I REALLY don’t think you should be doing that.”

And, as usual, he didn’t pay any attention to David!

Then, all of a sudden, Reid stopped.

He looked at David, his eyes wide with disbelief!

“Uh-ooohhh,” Reid said. “There is something very warm running down my back!”

David and I burst out laughing.

David said, “I told you NOT to do that, Reid. Now, see what you have caused?!”

Reid grabbed John and set him on the floor!

“Oh, no!” Reid exclaimed. “He just wet all over my brand-new shirt!”

“Well,” David said, “You should have listened. I told you not to do that.”

I guess it wasn’t bad enough that John wet all over Reid...but he was wearing a brand-new brown velour shirt that he’d just gotten for Christmas! So much for that new shirt!!!

Even after all of that, we are still very good friends and when we get together, we all still laugh about that “memorable” day and many others.

“Keep smiling, keep shining,

Knowing you can always count on me, for sure.

That’s what friends are for.

For good times and bad times.

I’ll be on your side forever more.

That’s what FRIENDS ARE FOR!”

~ Jeannie Joyner

The Big Brother Program

Brandon? I have to talk about Brandon?! Yeah, I guess I’m ready to do that... 

First thing that I remember about my brother? 

He started out funny after he was born. And sometimes, he would get antsy, so when he did either me or Nana liked to rock him, so we would. And then when he got a little bit older (still young)... sometimes he would ask me if I wanted to play with him and if I was doing something else then I would tell him “No, I’d play with him later.” 

When he used to sleep in his crib, I used to watch him do that. And I still watch him do that [though not in a crib any longer]. 

Sometimes I remember when he used to sleep in my bedroom, he put some old headphones on when we were sleeping; we would put them on our head to listen to music.  

Sometimes I would babysit for him when either mom or dad wanted to go out to a store or something. And then, I used to watch movies but he was so little he doesn’t remember that. But I watched after him at the movie theater while Mom and Dad went to another to watch something else. The first movie that I ever took Brandon to... I think it was a comedy movie... I can’t remember the name of it... I just know it was funny and we laughed a lot. It’s not that I don’t want to answer that question, I just don’t know it off the bat. 

At times he gets in a little bit spoiled mood, a little. Sometimes he’s a little bit spoiled... sometimes he wants to look at something and doesn’t ask. If I was holding something and I say “I’ll give it to you in a minute, Brandon” then that is when he would try to grab it out of my hand sometimes... but we got over that now... 

He likes to do a lot of things that I like to do but he likes to do them differently. When I would bring my school work home to do... he would read the words upside down while I did my homework. And then, when I used to have piano lessons, Brandon used to come and walk in the hallway and I had to bring him back out from wherever my piano lessons were so he wouldn’t be in the room. 

I used to do racetracks (running) and Brandon always did it after I did my racetracks exercise... at Danny Jones Complex. 

I remember we had different classes... he had swimming lessons and I had a different swimming lesson. This was a long time ago, before... with different coaches teaching us different classes. 

I know when we got a lot older, we tended to do things differently. Especially costume-wise. I know we’ve done plays together, like Down by the Creekbank. Back at the Creekbank... I did “It’s a Rainbow” and Brandon had a solo then. And then we did another one called “Fat Fat Jehosephat” and Brandon sang a song and I did “Don’t Be Afraid.” 

Sometimes I like to tease him - like my favorite color was purple and his used to be pink (but it wasn’t really true) … I used to tease him, ‘cause it’s always been blue. My favorite color is still purple and his is blue but I play with him on that! 

Sometimes we have fun, like Christmas and Thanksgiving. Like opening presents on Christmas and eating Christmas dinner and good food on Thanksgiving, especially the turkey. That’s what we always do—eat and have fun! And sometimes, for Halloween, we used to dress up... I used to do it a lot longer than Brandon but when he started, we went from Batman and Robin to Pinocchio and Jiminy Cricket (except he wouldn’t wear the makeup) and the last one was he was the angel and I was the devil but it was a costume joke kinda thing... people thought it should have been reversed. 

For music? We don’t listen to the same music. He does like 80s music... I just listen to country. About singing... we do karaoke singing... but we do it by ourselves and I’ll do country and he’ll do rock n roll. 

What do we do together now?! Now—well, nothing now, but in the past, we used to go to the movies. But, for the scary movies I don’t really go to the scary movies. Sometimes y’all [Brandon and Kristen] take me to buy CDs and movies at Monster. Sometimes we [my family and friends] do go out to dinner on Sundays and sometimes in the evening, but now it’s more take-out and eating at home. 

My favorite thing about having a brother? What’s my favorite thing? [He’s] sometimes funny... he makes me laugh. I love him... uh-huh... I just like him...  I think that’s the only thing I like about him, yeah... Some people say we’re both “only” children—But, NO! I’m an adult now... so we’re both “only” adults... 

For Brandon’s Birthday, I’ll say a couple nice things... Sometimes we have our ups and downs. It doesn’t have anything to do with today, just in general... I’d like to say I just like him... I’m glad to have him as a brother. I said love... But, that’s about all I can think nice about him now. Did I say love already?! I did say love! 

~ John Joyner

Going To the Chapel

(A Brief History of Summerall Chapel)

Sitting in the heart of the Citadel on the Avenue of Remembrance, this cruciform chapel is a testament to many. It serves not only the Citadel but also the South Carolina Corps of Cadets as well as the Charleston community.

Being non-sectarian, non-denominational, the chapel hosts weekly worship services also that are specifically Catholic, Protestant, and Episcopal. Throughout the year, many special events are held inside from weddings to the Christmas Candlelight Services to name a couple.

Designed by C.R. MacDonald, chapel construction began in September of 1936 and was completed merely one year later. On Palm Sunday of 1938, the chapel was dedicated simply as the Cadet Chapel. After Gen. Summerall’s retirement as president in 1953, the name was changed to Gen. Pelot Summerall Chapel.

Thirteenth and Fourteenth-century Gothic-styled architecture, oaken furniture, and ceilings of pine are prominent in the building’s design. Many stained-glass windows depicting the life of Jesus Christ adorn the chapel.

Medallions have been provided by families and friends of many commemorated cadets which make up the façade and transept windows. Each medallion is identical in size, but represents the specific individuals symbolically based on “courage, sacrifice, religion, truth, duty, loyalty, patriotism, faith, charity, prayer, adoration, praise, and immortality.” The chancel window behind the altar was dedicated in 1942 to all Citadel graduates who lost their lives courageously fighting for the country’s cause.

There are 57 flags on display in the chapel; this includes the flags representing each of the states of the union which not only hang throughout the chapel but also improve the acoustics within.

Summerall Chapel is well over 80 years old and the magnificent stained-glass windows have begun to show some wear and are in dire need of refurbishment due to their age. In 2019, the Class of 1974 launched a campaign to assist in such repairs. In addition, the Citadel Foundation has supported the formation of an Advisory Committee to further these efforts of restoration with a target completion of 2023.

Words of reflection are inscribed at Summerall Chapel-- Above the altar reads: “To the Glory of God, and In Memory of The Citadel’s Patriot Dead” and outside the chapel on the ground reads: “Remember Now Thy Creator in the Days of Thy Youth.”

Summerall Chapel is a place of remembrance, patriotism, religion, and prayer where all may come together in reverence to reflect and worship. It is a place of sanctuary, a stronghold, a safe place for not only cadets but all to commune away from the business and strains of daily life. And into the ages, it will remain a spiritual atmosphere for all to come and just be.

~ Kristen N. Granet

Touch-A-Touch-A-Touch-A-Touch Me

I have been singing with the wonderful trio of ladies called the “Glowettes” for many years. They are such supportive, kind, loving, steadfast friends and I feel very blessed to know them and to have been able to perform with them over the years.

We have had countless opportunities to sing for different occasions like military reunions, private parties, retirement facilities, churches, commercials, radio shows, and for about six years, toured with a roadshow. Sometimes we turned down a gig if we felt it wasn't right for us but we never wanted to miss an opportunity to sing in church whether it was our own church or another.

We have a vast number of stories to tell about the adventures of “us” to the point that we have even talked about writing a book. We just need to sit down and do it. As I sit here thinking about all of our escapades, one particular story pops into my head.

The “Glows” have always performed many genres of music - from country to big band, gospel, sacred, 40’s, and more - so it was not unusual for a church to invite us to do a secular concert. The church we had been invited to was a well-attended church. And, being the crazy girls that we are, we decided to change things up a bit to bring more laughter and audience participation in our concert. We had always thrown out glitter, candy, a little dance or whatever seemed to fit that performance.

We use our relationships with friends to make a connection to the audience but sometimes that connection is a little uncomfortable...

This particular concert we decided that we would invite men out of the audience to “sway” and sing a song with us that everyone knew. When this audience participation song came up, we left the stage, picked a partner, and headed back up to our places.

We took the time to instruct the guys on what they would be doing.

“So,” I said, “put your arms around our waist and when we sway to the right you sway to the right. Let's rehearse it, okay?”

That was the hardest thing to accomplish. I swayed to the right, he swayed to the left.

“Okay,” I said, “Let's try again.”

These guys couldn't grasp it so we decided to start the music and just go with it. Each guy got into the position and we were ready to perform.

The music started.

If you think it was easy trying to get guys to sway in the same direction while having their arms around your waist... then think again. It was like having ice skates on for the first time, trying to push off and getting nowhere cause the 200-pound dude ain't movin’!!!

By this time, I was laughing so hard tears were streaming down my face. If that wasn't bad enough, I stuck my mic up to my guy’s mouth so he could be heard singing instead of me. If you thought I was laughing, then you should have experienced what I heard coming out of his mouth. This guy - bless his heart - sounded like a wolf howling at the moon. He wasn't singing; he was bellowing.

I had lost all ability to sing.

As I glanced to my left, I realized my situation was minor compared to what my “Glow sisters” were experiencing.

One of the “Glows” was a little on the short side. When our audience participants were chosen, we had no idea how tall each one was. Unfortunately, the shortest “Glow” had chosen the tallest partner. As we sang and swayed, this gentleman's arms and hands were getting higher and higher till they were right under her arms and almost across her chest. She was trying to rectify the situation... but, one of her hands was holding the mic, one hand was trying to manipulate his arms back down from her yaboos to her waist while trying to get him to sing and at the same time sway in the right direction.

You can imagine how it looked to the audience because this gentleman had no clue what was happening. Let's face it... when his arm started sliding up... there was no stopping them! She must have felt like she was at the drive-in movie on a first date.

By this time, her chin rested on her bosom because of the tight grip he had on her. We were quite relieved when this number was over. The audience got a real chuckle out of all of it, especially the wives who allowed us to “borrow” their husbands.

Now we don't have to draw men from the audience as we have two of our very own who have joined the “Glows” permanently.

Some people say that church is boring, but it wasn’t that night! So, please remember, the next time that you go to a concert and the music touches you, that doesn’t give you permission to touch back...

As for now, we’ll keep singing... “Shine little glow worm - glimmer, glimmer.”

I Love a Parade

By the time my wife and I were joining our friends Lloyd and Mary Lou to drive to our one-and-only Rose Bowl Parade, a whole lifetime of experiences had been had. The 60s had been a real mix of events in rapid-fire occurrence.

I graduated high school in 1965 and entered the Citadel that fall. A freak accident ended my marching career there and led me to the Baptist College of Charleston where I enrolled in their Naval ROTC program with hopes that I would enter the service as an officer. We didn't expect the college to fall short of accreditation, which left the ROTC program, also without foundation.

My lovely wife and I said our vows in March of 1968 after I had completed Navy Bootcamp. I had come home with the expectation of active duty prior to that. I was finally notified to report on duty in San Diego, California in January of 1969. Tearful goodbyes and fears for my safety were part of my departure and flight from Charleston to San Diego, to San Francisco, to Honolulu, to Vietnam where I joined my ship in the Saigon Delta.

I expected to spend my 2-year requirement on board the USS Nueces - APB40. With one or two R and R’s, I would satisfy the active-duty portion of my contract, but fate being what it was, we cut our in-country tour short and headed for our new homeport.

The sail home began in July of 1969 moving from upriver to Vung Tau Harbor to Subic Bay in the Philippines and then across the South China Sea on to Yokosuka, Japan for servicing our power plants. After almost two months we sailed to Honolulu by way of Guam. We then set sail for San Francisco, but we were diverted to Long Beach after several conversations regarding where our group would find a final rest. We reached port in California late September of 1969.

Life as a bachelor was not my cup of tea, so I put together a lease plan that included an apartment off base and a flight home to retrieve my bride and our car filled with all we could carry. We headed west with well wishes from family and friends and concerns for our safety as we throw the “Southern route” across the country, which included the desert. Unfortunately, extra gas and water had no place in our two-door Chevy Nova, But, fortunately, they will not need it.

Our apartment lease allowed for the unknown tenure because we were decommissioning our ship. We began our stay in our new home in October of 1969. Our stay in Southern California was filled with special moments like our driving trips around Long Beach, Palo Alto, Los Angeles, and all the neighborhoods in between.

We made our one and only Disneyland trip in December of 1969 where we crossed paths with Mary Lou and Lloyd while scaring all the visitors within a hundred feet by screaming and shouting with joy. We became a foursome that enjoyed several road trips to locales as diverse as Tijuana, Mexico, and the San Diego Zoo.

We couldn't let her stay in Southern California go by without trying to satisfy our desire to see everything our time and budget would allow. If you come as no surprise then that the New Year celebration at Mary Lou and Lloyd’s apartment would go into the wee hours of the morning of January 1st, 1970. What else would make the party more memorable as the other guests left around 3 AM? Why, a trip to Pasadena to see the Rose Bowl Parade, of course!

We piled into our Nova, with its large back seat and almost as large front seat, and headed north to find the perfect spot along the parade route. There was no GPS to keep us from getting lost or to help us find the shortest route there. After about one and a half hours, we found a parking space just one block off the main street for the parade and immediately went to claim our place on the sidewalk to be assured of a viewing point. We quickly found out that even though the temperature was in the 60s, it was too cold to stay there from around 4 a.m. till 8 a.m. when the parade started.

We slept in the car till just before the parade began and rushed to reclaim our places. It very quickly became clear that we were part of an event that dwarfed anything that we had ever participated in. It was all we ever dreamed it would be. Our in-person experience was an intense dose of sight, sound, and smell. It was impossible to see all parts of the floats or hear all the instruments in the bands, nor smell every flower that was part of the parade.

Standing on the sidewalk in the throng of people watching the beauty of so many different creations, experiencing the sensations and filling our hearts with incredible joy. There's no way to compare a televised, homebound experience with the reality of being there.

A once in a lifetime event with my once for a lifetime partner.

~ David Joyner

Sock It To Me!

I've always tried to pick out special items to give my friends and family at Christmas. I'll admit it isn't always easy. Let's take, for instance, my sons. They're both into music and movies. I would never be able to select either of these for my sons. We’re talking about thousands and thousands of movies; thousands of CDs. If I need a movie or a CD, I just ask and they loan them to me.  

So, when someone studies another person enough to know what they might want or need for Christmas and then makes a purchase of that special item for them, then that person really feels loved.  

Let's face it - that's not always easy.  

So many of my friends and family have just about everything that they want or need. Like one of my dear, dear friends said when I asked him what he wanted for Christmas, “Only give me something I could eat or drink.” Now that's easy shopping, isn't it?  

By this time in our lives, we want to be getting rid of our baggage, not collecting more.  

Early in my marriage, I tried not to make a difference between my mom and my mother-in-law when it came to exchanging gifts. If I made my mom a dress, I made my mother-in-law a dress. My mother was always so gracious when I gave her ANYTHING! My mother-in-law – well, let's just say I could not always read her quite as easily as I could read my mother.  

Except when she was aggravated with me - which seemed to be quite often.  

This particular Christmas, we had joined my in-laws at their house for Christmas dinner and after our delicious feast, we gathered in the living room to exchange gifts! Everyone quickly tore into each gift with so much excitement, wrapping paper flew everywhere. Everyone was almost finished and was curled up in a comfy chair thinking we were finished. 

I really didn't care that no present was passed to me because my mother-in-law and I had very different tastes. Then a small package was handed to me. “Oh,” I thought, "I was remembered.” I open my “present” to reveal... a pair of socks. 

And they weren't even pretty socks.  

The room was quiet with most eyes on me. “Well, thank you so much,” I said as I really didn't know how else to respond. It was one of those times when you know you had been set up and my response was really important at that moment. I also knew and that for whatever reason my mother-in-law was upset with me for some reason and this was her way to get back at me.  

Talking about uncomfortable, I was!  

We sat around with the rest of the family for a few hours, gathered up our gifts, exchange goodbyes and headed home.  

Our trip on the way home—you could have heard a pin drop and finally, David broke the silence and said, “I don't know what gets into her.” I just shrug my shoulders because I didn't know what to say. Imagine me not knowing what to say! Haha!  

No, I did not give her a pair of socks the next Christmas! I still tried to make it special for her. And I'm glad I did. It would have been petty on my part if I had responded any other way.  

Let's always remember what's really important during the holidays. Things may not always go as planned but sometimes we have to make the best of a bad situation. Like Judy Carne from Laugh-In used to say... 

Sock-It-To-Me! 

Sock-It-To-Me! 

Sock-It-To-Me! 

~ Jeannie Joyner

Christmas With the Cranks

Isn't it nice to be able to gather around the table on a holiday, share favorite foods, but also share wonderful memories, and to spend time with all the people we love most?

Fellowship with family and friends - how I look forward to those times and our gatherings at Christmas - are my favorite. The presents are nice but - ahhh - the food! If I never received another present - the food is present enough!

Our guests are really great cooks. Turkey and dressing, mac and cheese, rice and gravy, banana pudding, cranberry sauce, pumpkin pie... to name a few!

Makes your mouth water, doesn't it?

Which brings me to the point of this blog.

It was Christmas and we had invited all our besties to help celebrate. All the food and desserts for placed on the island so we could all “help ourselves.” Everyone had brought so much food that all the dishes couldn't fit on the island so we had to put some items on the countertops.

Can you imagine?

We said grace and everyone was told to go through the line, help themselves, find a seat – and EAT! The aroma from all the homemade foods permeated the air and we could not wait to indulge!

We have waited for this all year, right?

We were all seated around the table when we spotted a white car pulling up out front. We all watched as three people got out of the car, collected their many dishes of food and presents, and started walking toward our house. Everyone at the table looked at each other and someone said, “Who are those people? We thought everyone was already here.”

“I have no idea who those people are,” I said.

Then, we heard someone open the front door and walk in.

“Okay,” I thought to myself, “I must be wrong since they hadn't rung the doorbell and were walking right inside!” We all turned around toward the foyer. We were staring into the faces of three people who had never seen before. We all stared, frozen. Then my husband stood up and greeted them, “Hey, guys. Come on in!”

One of them said, “Oh, I think we're in the wrong house. We were looking for a white house, spotted this one and thought we were at the right one.”

My husband said, “Well there's another white house about three houses down on the same side of the street. That must be the one you are looking for, but you are welcome to stay and share our meal because your food smells mighty good.”

We all laughed. We laughed and laughed about our “unexpected” guests and how the expressions on their faces were priceless as they realized they had just walked into a total strangers’ home. But, we could all see how embarrassed they were. They said that they thought they would head on down the street to the correct house cause their family would be waiting for them, but thanks for the invite.

They took the food and presents, packed them up again in the car, and drove on down to the next white house. When they left, we figured it all out - we had just had our house painted – WHITE! That's the reason they were confused about which house to go to. After all, what more could we have asked for then to celebrate it with our loved ones... and maybe a few extra “unexpected” guests?

~ Jeannie Joyner

Naut's Landing

A Brief History of the Yorktown

What if we told you we were going to a museum? What if we said that we were going on a boat this afternoon? Love both of those ideas? Well, then, have we got something to tell you about?

The attack on Pearl Harbor was one of the most horrific military attacks in United States history. Just six days prior on December 1st, 1941, the keel was laid down for the ship originally named the Bonhomme Richard.

During the Battle of Midway, a carrier named the Yorktown (C-5) was the only one lost during this conflict. But it’s legacy would be carried on by another craft.  The USS Bon Homme Richard was renamed on September 26th, 1942 as the Yorktown. Nicknamed “The Fighting Lady” and launched on January 21st, 1943, the USS Yorktown (CV-10) would finally be commissioned on April 15th, 1943.

An Essex-class ship and the tenth aircraft carrier to serve in the United States Navy, The USS Yorktown would be a major player in the Pacific Offensive during World War II in the fight against Japan eventually leading to their surrender in 1945. The Yorktown would accumulate eleven battle stars.

It was to be decommissioned on January 7th of 1947 only to be recommissioned on January 2nd, 1953 to fight in the Korean War. This wasn’t before being upgraded to an attack carrier. Then again, the Yorktown was transitioned into an antisubmarine carrier. Serving in the Pacific again during the Vietnam War from 1965 to 1967, the Yorktown earned five additional battle stars. 

But this ship was famous for other reasons as well. The documentary, “The Fighting Lady,” was titled after its nickname and even sections of Tora, Tora, Tora, which recreated the attack on Pearl Harbor, was filmed aboard-- not to mention the sci-fi film The Philadelphia Experiment (The less said about that movie, the better…).

After a successful and storied history during World War II and Vietnam, the Yorktown went the way of disco just a few years later. In 1970, the ship was decommissioned and placed in reserve. But… that wasn’t the end of the story.

1975 would see the aircraft carrier towed all the way from Bayonne, New Jersey to its new and more permanent home in Charleston, South Carolina to take the first steps towards its new lease on life. That new installation would open in 1976 as Patriot’s Point with the Yorktown being the centerpiece. The ship even became a National Landmark in 1986.

From protecting our great nation an aircraft carrier to educating the youth of America as a naval museum, the USS Yorktown (CV-10) stands – or floats – as a great achievement bridging the gap from the battles of yesteryear to the future we’re building together.

Ready to Lead, Ready to Follow, Never Quit.

~ Brandon L. Joyner

Back In Black

I’m not gonna lie. I think the Friday after Thanksgiving this year might look a little different.  

If you’ll allow, let me tell you a little tale… 

I come from a relatively large family. My father has four brothers – three surviving. The first cousin count on that side alone is eleven. And due to most of those having families of their own now, we rarely see each other during the holidays. 

Serendipitously, one year saw the Florida arm of my family in the same house as most of the Charleston branch. After the cranberry sauce was consumed and dessert was served, my Aunt Carey retrieved a stack of newspapers from her car. Ads from all of the major retailers cascaded to the floor as she marked up the offers that she was going to take advantage of and tossed away those that were of no use. 

“Um… Whatcha doin’?” I inquired. 

“Making a game plan,” she responded.  

Christmas was just around the corner and her three boys and one daughter required a huge mountain of presents underneath the tree in just a few weeks. 

At least, in my memory they did. I’m sure I’m being hyperbolic. 

She had a couple of televisions, computers, and toys of all kinds adorning her massive shopping list. And when was this to take place?  

“Where and when are you doing all this?” After all, she was hundreds of miles from home.  

“We’ll be getting up around 2am and starting at Best Buy,” she answered.  

“2am?!” Cause that’s the only proper response to getting up that early to stand in any line for hours and hours for anything ever. After a slight bit of deliberation, I inquired, “Can I join you?” I had never done anything so… so… intense for something seemingly so unimportant.  

But she said, “yes.” And the game was afoot.  

Like Samwise Gamgee headed into the fiery pits of Mordor, I followed her around town from store to store in order to save pennies on the dollar. The best part about it? I had a blast. Dodging to and fro to avoid the stampede of opposition shoppers, waiting in another line to escape the store and then tossing my findings on a counter with the final total announced at a fraction of what it would be on any other day of the year. 

And—you guessed it – this has become an annual event for my friends and myself. What other time of year can you hear so many strange rumblings from half-crazed, fully exhausted shoppers? 

A couple years ago now, standing in what was the music section at a big box store, a woman mumbled to her daughter, “Hey! Have you heard of this artist Michael BUBBLE? He’s pretty good.” Laughs from my groups were hard to stifle over this interaction.  

If you are a people watcher? This event built to bilk you of your hard-earned cash has become a perfect breeding ground for the hyper weird.  

Now the plague of the most capitalistically of capitalism is that Black Friday was starting to invade the Thanksgiving holiday itself. Where you had to shuffle out of your home in the middle of the night in the freezing cold to queue in a line that wraps around the building in the vain hopes that you can grab one of the ten TVs supremely marked down to bargain-basement prices… in the past few years, you could just head out about five in the afternoon and grab whatever you needed leaving those you might not want to be around in the dust holding their third serving of turkey.  

I never loved this… Thanksgiving to me has been about being thankful for that we have and have had. Not for what we can have or possibly consume.  

In these times of corona, it seems the clock has been reset. Wal-Mart and Target have both announced they won’t be opening their doors this year on Thanksgiving itself. Maybe its cause of the bottom line. Maybe it’s the companies themselves being more responsible. I think you probably know the answer.  

Whatever the reason? I’m ironically thankful. 

Let Black Friday be its own holiday in between food and more food. I’m happier this way.  

So… as you sit together respectfully socially distanced from family that you may or may not like in general or people that you may or may not agree with politically in times like these… consider Marcie’s words from "A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving" from 1971 - "Thanksgiving is more than eating, Chuck. We should just be thankful for being together." 

I hope you had a phenomenal Thanksgiving and HAPPY HUNTING this Black Friday. 

~ Brandon L. Joyner

My Old China

Do you have “keepsakes” from your grandparents, parents, children, etc?

Some people may think it's silly to say things like a special outfit your baby wore home from the hospital, a ring that belonged to your mother, a pair of glasses that belong to your grandfather. I never had many items that were passed down from one generation to the next, but the few that I managed to save are precious to me. I keep them tucked away to keep them safe.

When I was about three years old, my grandfather remarried a short while after the death of my grandmother. My father was not excited about the marriage and, according to him, my new step-grandmother was only after my grandfather’s money.

You've heard the expression, “the proof is in the pudding?” Well, my grandfather and “new” grandmother had only been married a short while when my grandfather passed away.

As a little one, I really had no real understanding of all that was involved in the settlement of his estate. The only thing I did know, a little later, was that my step-grandmother took everything, giving nothing to my father and siblings, but distributing all to her children, who were grown, and had never actually lived in the house with my grandfather.

Yes, you can get angry if you want because it was unfair. But life isn't fair, is it?

Somehow my father managed to acquire five plates from some that my grandmother had in her kitchen. How he got them I will never know. Maybe from one of his brothers or his sister. They were not expensive; they were everyday dishes. No information was printed on the bottom, only “USA.” They had a lot of porcelain cracking in the plates and a lot of the gold banding was wearing off along the edges, but I love them - so when my parents passed away, the plates were one of the few things that remained - so I acquired them.

I was always looking in thrift shops, antique shops, estate sales, anywhere I thought I could find a piece to add to my “five precious pieces!” I found a serving bowl at a vintage shop, another piece was found in an antique mall in Gatlinburg, TN. My collection was slowly coming together, but all this at this rate, it was going to take years to complete.

Then one day, my husband, two of my best friends, and friends visiting from Wales decided to go antiquing. We walked into a well-known antique shop in the Charleston area and decided to go straight to the back and work our way forward. My friend, Lois, came over to where I was browsing and said, “Jeannie, you’ve got to get over here right now. I think I found your grandmother's dishes!”

I thought she meant that she had found a piece or two.

WRONG!

We went over to the area in the back of the store and on the shelf were about sixty-two pieces of the most beautiful dishes I had ever seen.

“I can't believe it,” I said to Lois. “Surely this can't be the right price for all these!”

So, I ran to the front of the store where my husband was and excitedly, I blurted out. “David, you've got to come see this. I think we’ve found my grandmother's pattern on some dishes!”

He grabbed my arm, pulled me aside, and said, “Jeannie, you've got to stop acting so excited about the dishes. I'll never be able to convince the owner to give me a better price if we decide to buy them.”

“Ha!” I thought to myself, “If you think I'm going to leave here without these dishes, think again.” I didn't care how much they cost.

We told the lady that we may be interested in purchasing the dishes, she walked to the back of the store, removed the ticket, and brought it up to the front. At that time, she told us that the dishes had been mismarked and that they should be a lot more expensive.

I'm sure the expression on my face was one of real disappointment!

Then she said, “I'll have to sell them to you at that price because it was how they were marked.”

Inside I was jumping for joy. Yes! All I could do was grin from ear to ear as I thanked the lady over and over again.

I invited my old friends and my new friends from Wales over for dinner and happily displayed my new “old” dishes. It felt wonderful to fellowship with friends and to know that they had helped me find my treasured dishes because if my friends had not suggested that we go antiquing, I never would have found those dishes.

Wasn't it something that after years of collecting one piece at a time, I found almost a complete set right here under my nose, here in Charleston? Did I say, “HERE IN CHARLESTON?!” I've often wondered if these were the actual dishes that my grandmother had owned & had used every day when my father was a child. I like to think they were. At least I know I have five plates that belonged to her.

All I can say is don't give up on your dreams, even if it's something as small as a set of dishes. It made me so happy to find them and so happy every time I set them out on our dinner table. I really do think the food tastes better served up on these new “old” dishes. Are you hungry?

~ Jeannie Joyner

Strip, Tease

I love to be around people who make me laugh, people who are happy, people who are positive thinkers, people who look for the best in others. I've been very blessed with my wonderful family and circle of friends who are there for me when I have a “not so great moment.”

When I had a friend who was celebrating a birthday, the wheels in my head started turning! What can I do to make his birthday “something to remember?”

This friend was an organist in a fairly large church and the organ that he played every Sunday was right up front in this church -- and very visible!

“Hmmm...,” I thought to myself, “how can I use this?”

My family had just moved into a larger house and there was a room in the new house that we had never been in because the handle had been removed from the door. We were told that renovations were going on in this room so we didn't think much more about it.

BIG MISTAKE!!!

After we moved into the house, my husband collected his tools so he could open the door. Once we were in the room we discovered that the teenager living in that room had trashed it. Without going into great detail, we discovered that this stranger that this teenager had collected a large stack of Playboy magazines! I know... I know... He only read the articles. That's when the idea for a memorable birthday came to me.

I collected my art supplies, took one of the Playboy magazines and went to work.

Fast forward to Sunday morning. I left the choir room where the choir was rehearsing for the 11 AM service, scooted over to the sanctuary and placed the birthday card that I had meticulously created out of the Playboy centerfold right on top of his music so he could not possibly miss it.

The choir filed in, myself included, and the director seated us. The choir director sat down on the organ bench, spotted the card and smiled.

He opened it!

He slammed it shut!

He sat for a moment to think through what had just happened.

He slowly turned on the piano bench until he spotted me.

“How did he know?” I was thinking.

Our eyes met.

His eyes widened.

I grinned.

He knew.

It was all I could do to compose myself... for you see his wife was my best friend and she was sitting right next to me and observed all that had transpired! She was laughing uncontrollably (to herself) till her chair was shaking.

He carefully removed his “most memorable birthday card EVER,” placed it on the bench beside him, opened the music for the anthem, stood the choir, and continued on with the service.

Yes, I'm still alive.

Yes, I still sing in the choir.

Yes, we are still friends -- although now I think he checks his music very carefully before our Sunday services.

What are friends for if we can’t bring a little joy to someone else's life. I have noticed that he doesn't remind me anymore of his upcoming birthdays!

Wonder why?

~ Jeannie Joyner