Charlotte and Carolyn are back from their mission trip to Peru and will be taking over the reigns of Go Fish tomorrow morning. So, Connie and I are officially retiring from retail. It has been a fascinating experience.
Retail is entirely about establishing relationships (isn't everything...) and serving the customers perceived wants and needs. That being said, I am entirely inept at assisting a customer in selecting a blouse, skirt, matching shoes and complementing jewelry. And Connie is brilliant!
Then again, when it comes time to run the computerized Retail Pro software, transact the sale, close the books and make the bank deposits, I'm your man.
The dogs have been a huge hit. They lay on their pillow under the counter until they hear someone enter the shop. Then they sprint down the shop floor barking excitedly and jumping up on the customers legs for hugs and loves. Usually the customers get right down on the floor to play with them. SSI is such a dog friendly place.
The most fun of this job is meeting the people, listening to their stories, connecting, laughing... and selling them shoes.
It was a beautiful day in Georgia and we didn't have to work until 2:00 so Bob, Judy, Connie, Glen, Sampson and Delilah jumped in the van and drove over to the island next door. It is amazing that we had the entire beach to ourselves.
Bob and Judy found a quiet dune and hunkered down for a spell...
Bob already knows how to "just B..." (inside joke... check the hat)
We met some neat peopple in GO FISH yesterday and ran into them again on Jekyll. They were attending a physical education seminar at the convention center. self professed "Georgia girls"... Good people.
Working 9 to 2 tomorrow. Maybe we'll head up Island to the Red Barn on Saturday night for a little dancing and roasted oysters. They fly out on Sunday. It's been fun.
A little chilly this morning... 30 degrees. But we're not complaining. Katie says it's well below zero in Maine.
The Oprah website has posted a transcript of Wednesdays show complete with pictures. Click here to view.
They also posted 20 pages from Elizabeth Lesser's book, Broken Open. Lots of food for thought. Click here to view.
I read through the hundreds of comments posted on the Oprah blog responding to the show. There were so many people expressing profound grief and loss, trying to release some of their pain by writing about it. Most of those people were grateful for the program.
We have received hundreds of emails and calls from family, friends and total strangers. Thank you all so much for your kind words and feedback. We are so happy about the exposure that organizations like Hospice Volunteers have received from the show. The Oprah website provides a link to the National Hospice and Palliative Care Organization (NHPCO). They provide access to so many valuable tools for people across the United States, those approaching end of life and for those left behind. The Oprah Show producers have done a very good thing here. Well done, Scott and Leigh! You made sure the education piece concerning the full mission of Hospice was in the show and you will never know how much good you have done.
OK, time to bundle up and take the dogs for a walk on the beach. Bob and Judy are flying in on Wednesday for a few days to check out life without snow... YEAH!
Thanks so much for all the kind words from people who saw the Wednesday Oprah Show. We are relieved and just so pleased that it has been received positively. Our goals of honoring Eric and of helping people who are suffering loss have been so abundantly granted. We are very grateful. And we are so proud of Ryan. He's helped many, many people with his words.
To those folks who have discovered this blog and are reaching out, we want to help.
Find people who have walked the walk; a doctor, pastor, priest or rabbi, a counselor, co-worker, friend or family member, a Hospice Volunteer or Compassionate Friends group. You don't have to do this alone. In fact, you can't.
Be gentle with yourselves, Take it one day at a time. Have hope.
The full moon caused an amazing low tide and we were able to walk miles out into the ocean on sand bars (always keeping one eye on the incoming flow...). Even came upon this beautiful old snag posing in the glisten off the sea.
The shrimp must have also been running because the shrimp fleet seined back and forth along the coast as close to the sand bars as they dared. Wonder if the jellyfish were causing them problems... must have.
On Sunday afternoons, I head for The Bookmark, a local book store owned and operated by my new friend Brion. Last November he invited me to join a small (but powerful) gathering of local guys who talk books, politics, poetry, publishing, religion, technology and any other topic that might be raised. They were looking for a token Yankee... I'm proud to be among them.
Bob is retired military, Army, Vietnam vet, drove his MG from California to Florida along Old Route 66. Avid reader and golfer.
Russ is Georgia born and bred, a former publisher and recent author climbing the ladder toward his first book sale. An unofficial historian of SSI and a collector of people.
The brain power in the room is awesome. If you say something, be prepared to be challenged and to back it up. Even the smallest of issues can result in a full blown debate. For instance, Sunday's debate was over the subtle but significant distinctions between the concept of a justice system vs. a legal system. Brion is the computer whiz and acts as the information arbitrator, final but not binding. Sometimes when things calm down he "frags" the group with a choice piece of well researched information. Debates are ongoing and span years. I am just a side show.
I took my family over a few Sundays ago and they were a big hit, not shy about engaging in any debate ( they were raised in it!).
Just good guys willing to share a lifetime of adventure and experience.
We have been notified that the Elizabeth Lesser/Broken Open Show (this includes our taping ) will air on Wednesday, January 14th. Elizabeth is also going to be on the Jan. 7th show ( We are not).
If you haven't read the story of our "Oprah Experience" Click here
Hope we don't come off looking like wing nuts.... wait... we are wing nuts! But our intentions were noble; to honor our son/brother Eric and to help if only one family "in the fire".
Just remember that...
later,
the "dog man" and Connie Sue (as we're known on the Island... LOL)
Our Great Grandmother, Abbie Emma York Willard was born on January 4, 1879 and died on March 17, 1979 at 100 years old.
From our father's genealogy work, the York's arrived from England in the 1600's. Samuel York was born in Oyster River New Hampshire in 1645. His son, Benjamin was born in what is now Falmouth, Maine in 1680. Maine became a state in 1820, by the way. That make's my children and their Tilton/Grannell/Johnson cousins 12th generation Mainer's... as they used to say. "that and a quarter gets you a cup of coffee." Still, we are darned proud of it.
If you knew Gram Willard you'd know why we are proud. She was a spunky old gal. She was 72 when Craig and I, her oldest great-grandchildren, were born and we remember her laugh , more like a joyful cackle, even today. She lived to hold 4 of her great-great grandchildren; Christopher, Sayde, Eric and Ryan.
When I told her the names we had chosen for our son's she said, "Land sake, Sonny Boy. Where did you get those names... under the wood pile?" That from a woman married to Clarence with a daughter named Maybelle and a son-in-law named Morris.
I remember her telling the story of sitting on the point on Orr's Island as a child with her sister and watching the very first steam boat to ever enter the harbor. We were watching TV. It was July of 1969 and Neil Armstrong was walking on the moon.
Gail tells the story of visiting her shortly before she died. Gram told Gail she was pregnant. Gail said, "No Gram, that's Connie. I'm not pregnant." Still, Gram insisted that she was and told the rest of the family. 3 weeks later, when Gail learned that she WAS pregnant (with Kimberly Rose) she called Gram and asked how she knew. Gram said "I saw it in your eyes."
New Years Eves… the average man gets 77, give or take. Women get another 5 on average. Not sure I envy them that… I suppose this is true for every day of the year. On average, 77 December 31st, 77 October 23rds, 77 July 7ths… But only one actual birth day and one actual death day.It’s the dash between those two dates on your tombstone, the space and time between them, that you have to work with… to play with… to really live Life.
We just read a study that suggests that the earlier a person retires, the longer they live. For instance, the study showed that a person who retires at 50, on average, will live to age 86, another 36 years. In contrast, a person who retires at age 65 lives only another 2 years. Of course, statistics can be used to prove anything, but this study begs the question “If a person never worked, would they live forever?” Still, there is something here to consider.
On September 15,2007 (one of those once in a lifetime days for me… or is it?) I retired from the work-a-day world after 35 years in the trenches. Environmental engineer, sewerage treatment plant operator, high school teacher, paper mill supervisor, salesman, personnel manager, government affairs specialist… It was quite a ride, not a planned career path in the least. More of a stream of opportunities approach. The fun parts were a pleasant dream. And, of course, there were nightmares (best forgotten). By October, my wife and best friend of 32 years and I had sold our home of 18 years, bought a little touring van and hit the road.
It has been an extraordinary year and a half. The economic meltdown of 2008 has introduced a certain level of uncertainty to our future plans (to say the least), but NOBODY called that one, so we can only hang on for now and go with the flow… the flow, that space and time between DOB and DOD, abbreviations used by life insurance companies and coroners … the flow that has beached us for the last few months on a wonderful, little backwater island off the coast of Georgia.
Saint Simons Island has a unique history. A military outpost from the earliest days of European expansionism, the British and the Spanish fought a decisive engagement in 1774 in the Battle of Bloody Marsh. It was the furthest north the Spanish were to ever venture, from there a slow retreat over the next 60 years, pushed south of the Rio Grand in Texas, out of Florida, Arizona, New Mexico and California. Cotton became the cash crop on Saint Simons and thousands of slaves were imported to work the plantations until 1864. Following the Civil War, the former slaves were issued land grants on the Island and direct descendants of those people live here today.
Our rented house is on the cusp of the Island’s culture. On one side of Cumming’s Lane are beach houses, single story structures painted bright colors within walking distance of East Beach. On the other side of the one lane road, beneath the Live Oaks and the jungle of green vegetation and creeping vines, are black families ranging from a recluse, 80 year old woman, to young men in pimped out cars and sound systems that vibrate you out of bed at midnight, to biracial families with lots of beautiful little children. The smell of smoke and of barbecue pervades the neighborhood. Outside burning/cooking is a tradition… a religion.
For us, this New Year’s Eve was anything but typical. From our past experiences, December 31st was usually snowy and frigid, typically spent skiing as a family and celebrating our son’s birthdays. This year we walked the beach, listened to the waves and the bell buoys off the shipping channel and got dressed for an evening of dancing under the Live Oaks at Bennie’s Red Barn.
The Red Barn is located on Frederica Drive, up island from our place in “the Village”. It's a large, rustic, establishment … it’s, well…barn-like to state the obvious with a distinct history of its own. In the 50’s and 60’s a dress code was strictly enforced. Men wore jackets and ties, provided at the door if you were without. The wait staff, all black, wore white jackets… genuine, formal Southern tradition.
Today, ¾ of the “barn” is reserved as a restaurant, tables centered around a huge stone fireplace taking up all of one wall. The remaining ¼ is accessed from the restaurant through sliding barn doors and consists of a large worn, wooden dance floor, a stage runs across the front wall and a long bar along the back wall. The “club” continues outside onto a large open air deck under lighted Live Oaks with a huge metal caldron where a fire is kept and oysters are roasted. A second circular outside bar surrounds one of the majestic trees. The scene is magical; the warmth of the fire and the smell of roasting oysters, sounds of people dancing to R&B and the ethereal sight of smoke drifting through moss laden oaks.
The crowd evolved as the evening progressed. Doctors, lawyers, judges and real estate developers in whimsical, colored bow ties and tuxes were slowly outnumbered by young people in alligator boots with tight jeans and silk shirts. By midnight, the Red Barn was literally rocking up and down as people packed the dance floor and, with a collective sign of relief, kissed and hugged in yet another new year.
The barn doors slid open to the evening finale, a Southern breakfast buffet of smoked sausage, baked eggs with greens, cheese grits and biscuits all liberally doused with hot sauce.
New Years Eve, the average man gets 77, give or take… this one was special.
Then again, when it comes time to run the computerized Retail Pro software, transact the sale, close the books and make the bank deposits, I'm your man.
The most fun of this job is meeting the people, listening to their stories, connecting, laughing... and selling them shoes.
I really think Connie has found her niche...
