Earlier this week for three days I wandered the streets of history, visiting beauty, checking my own Yankee self-image, enjoying she crab soup … learning and being and saying hello to every passer-by. This Yankee girl visited Charleston, South Carolina, the location of the first shots fired in the American Civil War by Confederate troops on Union troops occupying Fort Sumter. I kept my northern identity in check and embraced the graciousness, the charm, the friendliness, the beauty, and the food of the region.
Some of the houses along East Bay Street near the southern tip of the old part of the city appear to be on steroids. “Drunken wedding cake” is what I immediately dubbed this house. Seems lovely and gracious and huge. and Very Very Pink. Choice of holiday plumage includes illuminated candy canes and striped lollipops in the garden area by the front door. Too much? You decide.
The juxtaposition of palmetto trees and huge porches through the old part of town enchanted me.
Two days of meetings on a very serious topic (sharing case information among justice agencies while balancing civil rights / civil liberties and prosecution/law enforcement concerns) left some room and need for me and colleague friend Barbara to rent a car and drive the hour or so to little Beaufort. I’d heard of Beaufort through its role as location for a number of movies such as THE BIG CHILL and PRINCE OF TIDES and was curious. And the little town sweetness and another evening sky behind the public marina provided gorgeous visuals. And a lovely leavetaking.
This evening I am again back in my Philadelphia apartment pondering the weekend ahead, with new memories and images to inform my sense of the American South. Yankee girl softens a bit.