tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-48863171432017033962024-03-19T05:32:50.556-07:00Living on SaltwaterA blog about life on the southern coast of the United States, with reflections and lessons from beaches near and far.Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05539141933589743270noreply@blogger.comBlogger19125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4886317143201703396.post-77363443954861243682017-10-09T08:59:00.000-07:002017-10-09T08:59:08.281-07:00ChangeI drank from her cup this morning. Tears disappear in coffee, you know. I don't always know when it will rush over me. The smell of her lotion, the sight of her hairbrush, the feel of her lightweight mug--and then I miss her. Mom has been gone more than two years now. Fall is beautiful in her beloved mountains, but she said it was somewhat sad. The changing of the leaves meant the bareness of winter was close behind. That was one of the many things we differed on. I find the vibrant colors of fall and the crisper weather invigorating. <div>
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It should be fall-like now as October rolls in, but here near southern salt water, land of hurricanes and humidity, it is still hot. There has been so much change in our lives and a change in weather would be welcome. We left our home of twenty-two years, the only home our grandchildren had ever known us in, the home where we cared for Mom and for the cats that came our way. We moved further south to the Charleston area, but closer to other family and that brings joy. Mom's cat died here, unaccustomed to the new surroundings and a little heart-broken. So change brings ups and downs.</div>
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Our granddaughter turned 13 yesterday. A teenager! That's a startling change, but one full of promise and excitement. After December 1, all our grandchildren will be teens. Sigh.</div>
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We have more time in this beautiful but unfamiliar place and that offers an opportunity to explore. It's good to learn new things, to keep our brains active. So here's to change. Bring it.</div>
Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05539141933589743270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4886317143201703396.post-17515905191254095422015-10-24T12:34:00.001-07:002015-10-24T13:34:36.581-07:00New England in Autumn<span style="color: #e06666; font-size: large;">New Englanders are hearty people.</span> Old folks there keep going like the Energizer bunny. I can only guess it's a strength borne of a lifetime of having to get where they're going in the snow, ice, or rain. A strength borne of shoveling snow, carrying in wood and walking the dog on a sheet of ice. And they come from hearty stock: their European ancestors left everything they knew, braving the Atlantic Ocean to land on these shores.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Damariscotta, Maine</span><br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Photo by Susan E Hance</span></td></tr>
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A nod to another strength of the </div>
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northern climate; the south has nothing on New England for their summer insects. Mosquitos and black flies bite with a passion in New England. I can only guess that they Frankenstein quickly to beat the rapidly approaching end of summer.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_x6uNFfOQaYXiWmC6kK3ld5sjwUE5hAojFVEZzldEYBFWTflhK8w9bOeoTrXfZsxQwXyybEIBDiNllx5vUCVDkvumWkCpVfDb6qt7F-0th_HYQ8Nl4NlMq41R64r_CiYeVlWUgOgKFWw/s1600/Moses+at+the+Burning+Bush+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_x6uNFfOQaYXiWmC6kK3ld5sjwUE5hAojFVEZzldEYBFWTflhK8w9bOeoTrXfZsxQwXyybEIBDiNllx5vUCVDkvumWkCpVfDb6qt7F-0th_HYQ8Nl4NlMq41R64r_CiYeVlWUgOgKFWw/s320/Moses+at+the+Burning+Bush+-+Copy.JPG" width="240" /></a>There's a saying that a farmer wonders every winter why he lives there, but every spring he gets his answer. I would suggest it is the fall in New England that makes living there worthwhile. (In addition to the wonderful people, the way they talk and the "lobstah").</div>
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In autumn, leaves of every color sparkle in sunlight and reflect in water. White clapboard churches and inviting homes dot the landscape. Birds busy themselves around birdfeeders and flowers take their last glorious breath before resting a while. <br />
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When I visited there recently, I thought how easy it would be to live among the bright colors, brisk days and still water until winter came. Even then, a quiet snowfall could calm the spirit. <br />
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<em></em><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>Now I know where my friend gets some of her strength. Many of us draw power and meaning from our places on this earth.</em></span> </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Bar Harbor, Maine</span><br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Photo by Susan E Hance</span></td></tr>
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Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05539141933589743270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4886317143201703396.post-64552404042677991872014-02-25T10:46:00.002-08:002022-01-30T13:35:29.823-08:00Aloha<strong>Aloha</strong> is a greeting in the Hawaiian language that means affection, peace, compassion and mercy. What a jam-packed meaningful greeting! That's like "Hey, y'all" on steroids.<br />
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On our recent trip to Hawaii--a first for me--we found that the people embodied all those qualities. Peaceful and kind, they made us feel welcome. And they don't seem stressed like people on the mainland. They seem to live the sentiment of one of my favorite bumper stickers: "Slow down, this is not the mainland."<br />
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No wonder we met so many transplants who went there for a visit and never left.<br />
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Crystal blue water, giant waves and brilliant sunsets came to life there, just as they look in the photographs, only better. (I'm sharing my photos with you here.) Our friends (and traveling companions) who have visited Hawaii many times treated us to overlooks, gardens, and out-of-the-way places we would never have found on our own. For us, that's the gem in going somewhere new: spend very little time on the tourist hype and much time on the real place.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAENcn_Kn5glDjczn6MlatHLREh4zzUh-eGZEvDEJnDfLD4MJ_nq04kQ6yoioTZpvDgknAbqPsMAhiLlLswMzMUA1XSTj1nCPaSgWjLz3i22yLzLSgIjjc7IoOV7VqxnIz2a0u1BeCbb0/s1600/DSCN1468.JPG" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAENcn_Kn5glDjczn6MlatHLREh4zzUh-eGZEvDEJnDfLD4MJ_nq04kQ6yoioTZpvDgknAbqPsMAhiLlLswMzMUA1XSTj1nCPaSgWjLz3i22yLzLSgIjjc7IoOV7VqxnIz2a0u1BeCbb0/s1600/DSCN1468.JPG" width="640" /></a><a href="https://www.google.com/flights/">Book flights with confidence | Google Flights</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kaneohe Bay</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUgHnnOjEj10Kirlhq2twDAKfW4VE9-LowRaqco3QNgp-PnpmBzyDVCarCaQ2vbrikXUMnZ_Ka7qQJIjjj-HCXGA-IAIyzQXWhyVZZ2k9UzfDWrx6dmx8VnhSy7b39VD-4bg95RlwQwHo/s1600/DSCN1384.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUgHnnOjEj10Kirlhq2twDAKfW4VE9-LowRaqco3QNgp-PnpmBzyDVCarCaQ2vbrikXUMnZ_Ka7qQJIjjj-HCXGA-IAIyzQXWhyVZZ2k9UzfDWrx6dmx8VnhSy7b39VD-4bg95RlwQwHo/s1600/DSCN1384.JPG" width="200" /></a>I enjoy comparing beaches and lifestyles on different shores. We had no problem settling down on <a href="http://www.gohawaii.com/oahu/regions-neighborhoods/honolulu/waikiki" target="_blank">Waikiki Beach</a> or drinking tropical drinks with names like "Lava Flow," watching Hawaiian dancers, or climbing to the top of <a href="http://www.hawaiistateparks.org/parks/oahu/Index.cfm?park_id=15" target="_blank">Diamond Head</a>. The life was at once familiar yet different. The beach was a little wider, the hill a little steeper and there were many more Japanese tourists than we have here. And I loved it all.<br />
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The respect shown for those who lost their lives in the attack on Pearl Harbor was chilling and awesome. Just knowing the sailors who went down in the <em>USS Arizona</em> are still there gave me goose bumps. <br />
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We happened to visit the USS Missouri on her birthday and came upon bands playing, flags flying and tours going on. It's the ship on which the surrender was signed in Tokyo Bay to end WWII. She is docked in Hawaii now with the documents and other historic markers there for all to see. And she has many stories to tell. For example, a kamikaze pilot who crashed into the ship was even given a proper military sea burial during WWII. The guys spent hours constructing a Japanese flag to cover him with. He was respected for doing his job, even though he was the enemy.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunset Beach</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At Waimea Bay</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFFrOIjAeXsHY4Jgt0sL7qCsCSozNia3cm2gq9jA_g70KAkfZLntf1lO1JIKCZhpDiWwNGPcI7r-fUtTM8-A57AhepzJ6s8bPOmeP9-FruCUl6tNWzv8lys4uJIeniGv_eQUWSwXYUJ2k/s1600/DSCN1318.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFFrOIjAeXsHY4Jgt0sL7qCsCSozNia3cm2gq9jA_g70KAkfZLntf1lO1JIKCZhpDiWwNGPcI7r-fUtTM8-A57AhepzJ6s8bPOmeP9-FruCUl6tNWzv8lys4uJIeniGv_eQUWSwXYUJ2k/s1600/DSCN1318.JPG" width="200" /></a>But some of the best treats were the private beach at <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Waimea_Bay,_Hawaii" target="_blank">Waimea</a> Bay, the dive-looking food truck court that served scrumptious fresh local shrimp, surfing competition that we happened upon at <a href="http://www.gohawaii.com/oahu/regions-neighborhoods/north-shore" target="_blank">Sunset Beach</a> in Haleiwa, the technicolor water of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/K%C4%81ne%CA%BBohe_Bay" target="_blank">Kaneohe Bay</a>, the dancing dragons on Chinese New Year, cacao beans drying at <a href="http://www.islandxhawaii.com/" target="_blank">Old Sugar Mill</a> in Waialua and getting kicked off the film set of <a href="http://www.cbs.com/shows/hawaii_five_0/" target="_blank">Hawaii Five-O</a> on Waikiki Beach. Sorry--I didn't realize what I'd wandered into--just wondering why a helicopter was on the beach.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hawaii Five-O</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chinese New Year</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Diamond Head</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View from Diamond Head</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDMH5PXsXdDU9vUh5Qul7ZzXO4FlzllUkzYLtkGLLKRIORO94Q-3wI3QPKKzVeOPKvFC4y-2bMjV69urJyAoq9a5ClAyUdbsNt8svO_Md0Z0MGAyf-SZyOzXlT2XE8sUfaHJGU-tKevS0/s1600/DSCN1256.JPG" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDMH5PXsXdDU9vUh5Qul7ZzXO4FlzllUkzYLtkGLLKRIORO94Q-3wI3QPKKzVeOPKvFC4y-2bMjV69urJyAoq9a5ClAyUdbsNt8svO_Md0Z0MGAyf-SZyOzXlT2XE8sUfaHJGU-tKevS0/s1600/DSCN1256.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fresh shrimp from the food truck</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6yKysXEIYEj9X1VBoaJE7AleNDgW03kOnma2W9rLM2VpLj2CPcDFjZTNj_DpmCyGKt-qUIbYC_3rQrv6_wqKFIy2SHoLXnVpvX4S8L2tRj2Tw_yFs3Mqhjn9NvTkN3oDA6rok264d4wY/s1600/DSCN1516.JPG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6yKysXEIYEj9X1VBoaJE7AleNDgW03kOnma2W9rLM2VpLj2CPcDFjZTNj_DpmCyGKt-qUIbYC_3rQrv6_wqKFIy2SHoLXnVpvX4S8L2tRj2Tw_yFs3Mqhjn9NvTkN3oDA6rok264d4wY/s1600/DSCN1516.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From Diamond Head</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>So many shores and so little time. I'm glad I got to this one. Hope you do too.</strong></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">All photos copyright Susan E. Hance</span><br />
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<br />Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05539141933589743270noreply@blogger.com0Honolulu International Airport (HNL), 300 Rodgers Boulevard, Honolulu, HI 96819, USA21.332898 -157.9214180000000221.2737305 -158.00209900000002 21.3920655 -157.84073700000002tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4886317143201703396.post-8906795100687170942014-02-19T10:38:00.002-08:002014-02-23T09:52:00.361-08:00Mom Moved InI've been under water lately--or it seems--we've been so busy. My 89 year old mother moved in with us (just after I returned from Grandparent Camp last summer) and it has been exhausting. Some of us in the sandwich generation are squarely between parents and children/grandchildren. It's a blessing. <br />
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I know that sounds odd to call it a blessing when I just said I was under water from all the activity, but I've seen people who have no one. Little ladies in nursing homes. Men on the streets. I'm blessed to be able to care for my mother and also be involved with my children and grandchildren.<br />
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Sure, it's a lot of work sometimes. We had to organize Mom's things, renovate the house to make it viable, sell the things she couldn't use, move her here and merge our ways of doing things. It was very difficult for her too. I've learned so many things about my mother as an adult that were not apparent from a child's perspective. Who knew she didn't like fuzzy blankets? Or floor lamps?<br />
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We'll try to manage holidays, attendance at weddings, vacations, illnesses, food, football weekends, heating, air conditioning and television volume. That's a good start and there will be more to come.<br />
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It's amazing how a drive to Kure Beach, where we look out at the waves, hear the gulls, watch the tourists and eat hand dipped ice cream is like a spa retreat for my mother--totally relaxing. That's not so difficult and a lot less expensive than a spa.<br />
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<a href="http://www.ourstate.com/" target="_blank">Our State Magazine</a> asked clergy from around the state to submit a prayer for North Carolina in one issue. The ones they gathered are moving and more than a prayer--they are epistles to the good life here. <br />
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<strong>It made me think about asking family members to write a prayer for our family. What would yours say</strong>?Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05539141933589743270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4886317143201703396.post-84264717454786215452014-02-19T10:26:00.001-08:002014-02-23T09:54:15.930-08:00Not On Salt Water<span style="font-size: large;">I'm a coastal resident, but in all seasons I think of the mountains. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">In the song, <a href="http://niccowan.bandcamp.com/track/reno" target="_blank">"Reno," Nic Cowan</a> asks, "What drives you to create?" The song tells us, "I never had a choice to make. It chose me long before I wrote..." One man returns to create paintings in the place where he was born. I understand that.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The mountains wear a comforter of snow right now, but soon enough buds will peer out from the trees in preparation for spring. I found this photo from last April taken at </span><a href="http://www.wildacres.org/" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: large;">Wildacres Retreat</span></a><span style="font-size: large;"> in Little Switzerland, NC.</span> <span style="font-size: large;"> It's a place where artists of all persuasions go to hone their crafts.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUGZVgdqnLYjWQNMYHGfQmYbB5G2HkgtFt1YQCJ6rDG6FzmVB7ADJaffAv37vxXH4Odu4PNaxe74NDYR4NHsmoJF5kjxLzS6K7ea0DY59dwMlPcNgSwd9-lmG4CEfe3Q2nbEPDNV6t2C4/s1600/DSCN0860.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUGZVgdqnLYjWQNMYHGfQmYbB5G2HkgtFt1YQCJ6rDG6FzmVB7ADJaffAv37vxXH4Odu4PNaxe74NDYR4NHsmoJF5kjxLzS6K7ea0DY59dwMlPcNgSwd9-lmG4CEfe3Q2nbEPDNV6t2C4/s640/DSCN0860.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">View from Wildacres Retreat, c. 2013 Susan E. Hance</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;"></span><span style="font-size: large;">It was a magical experience, driving higher and higher into the mountains on zigzagging roads ("</span><a href="http://www.wordsense.eu/sigogglin/" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: large;">sigogglin</span></a><span style="font-size: large;">" in mountain talk) that almost let you look at the back of the car coming around. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Then suspending all reality to do nothing but write and commune with nature and other artists was a soul-nourishing experience. I hope I get that chance again. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Of course by summer, the mountain trees and flowers will flourish, just waiting to blaze into autumn.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Meanwhile, I'll enjoy the sound of seagulls, warm sun on my face and</strong> <strong>sand in my shoes</strong>.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">The Grounds at Wildacres, April 2013</span></td></tr>
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<br />Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05539141933589743270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4886317143201703396.post-70273755749307630862013-05-01T10:52:00.000-07:002013-05-01T08:06:01.436-07:00Ireland: From the Mountains to the Sea<span style="font-size: xx-small;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;"></span>Have you ever been to a place for the first time and felt totally at home? That's what happened when I first set foot in Ireland. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Wicklow Mountains, County Wicklow Ireland, c. April 2011, Susan E. Hance, </span></td></tr>
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The hills, the green misty fields, the people with their sense of humor, the laughter, coastal life...and the music...oh, no way I can hear that and keep my toe from tapping. Small pubs with musicians playing fiddles, guitars, bodhran drums, and harps filling the cozy space with tunes of love, loss, and a sense of place.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRgHARzfsWmdpFFVIzyfF7gmTQdcgjSZWh8zfvcZzwpi4yJoM3EYRMaoE8ZsdAswQTDqw4_dacklD2JzfCwG1LK_Zb07ERBdfrOCUTLXHKzILWOTmvTLcZ9nsy7g_f7vH6WxpBd6nqh3M/s1600/166081_3045344586023_30172432_n%5B1%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRgHARzfsWmdpFFVIzyfF7gmTQdcgjSZWh8zfvcZzwpi4yJoM3EYRMaoE8ZsdAswQTDqw4_dacklD2JzfCwG1LK_Zb07ERBdfrOCUTLXHKzILWOTmvTLcZ9nsy7g_f7vH6WxpBd6nqh3M/s200/166081_3045344586023_30172432_n%5B1%5D.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Glendalough(Glen of Two Lakes), 6th century monastery</span><br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">c.2011, Susan E. Hance</span></td></tr>
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I loved it all at first sight.<br />
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The Appalachian mountains, where my parents were raised and where I was born, have a connection to Ireland and the British Isles. Not only did Scots-Irish and British immigrants make up a large portion of European settlers in the Appalachians, the mountains themselves are connected. They are the same mountain range! <br />
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<a href="http://www.sharynmccrumb.com/" target="_blank">Sharyn McCrumb's</a> novels are typically set in her native Appalachian mountains and she writes:<br />
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<span style="color: blue; font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: black;"><strong><em></em></strong></span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Hemlock Inn, Bryson City, North Carolina</span><br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">c.2009, Susan E. Hance</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: blue; font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: black;"><strong><em>The proof of this can be found in a vein of a green mineral called serpentine
which forms its own subterranean “Appalachian Trail” along America’s eastern
mountains, stretching from north Georgia to the hills of Nova Scotia, where it
seems to stop. This same vein of serpentine can be found in the mountains of
western Ireland, where it again stretches north into Cornwall, Wales, Scotland,
and the Orkneys, finally ending in the Arctic Circle. More than two hundred and
fifty million years ago the mountains of Appalachia and the mountains of Great
Britain fit together like a jigsaw puzzle. Continental drift pulled them apart
at the same time it formed the Atlantic Ocean.</em></strong></span> </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Clouds in Jones Gap, South Carolina, c. 2009, Susan E. Hance</span></td></tr>
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<a href="http://img2.imagesbn.com/p/9781931672313_p0_v1_s260x420.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Blood and Bone Remember: Poems from Appalachia" border="0" class="product-image image img book" data-expand-image="1" height="200" id="rnd-16999873" itemprop="image" src="http://img2.imagesbn.com/p/9781931672313_p0_v1_s260x420.jpg" width="131" /></a>Maybe the immigrants felt at home in a new land because it seemed so familiar. It begs the question: Does DNA have memory? In her work, <a href="http://www.blogger.com/in%20her%20work,%20Blood%20and%20Bone%20Remember:%20Poems%20From%20Appalachia." target="_blank">Blood and Bone Remember: Poems From Appalachia</a>, Jane Hicks, poet and fiber artist, suggests that it does.</div>
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Ireland has beautiful mountains and coastline. Perhaps my heritage informs my comfort zone, making me comfortable in both landscapes. Two of my favorite locations in Ireland are the Wicklow Mountains and Dingle Bay, opposite landscapes on opposite sides of the Isle--which by definition is surrounded by salt water. <br />
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The Appalachians are older than the Rockies, worn down over 10 million years of erosion. My beloved mountains that rose from the sea now continually wash into the sea. And so it goes.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Dingle Peninsula Ireland, c 2011, Susan E. Hance</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Mountains and water, Ireland, c. 2011 Susan E. Hance</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">On the Sky Road, Clifden Ireland</span></td></tr>
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Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05539141933589743270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4886317143201703396.post-28932143043618630002013-02-13T07:56:00.000-08:002013-02-13T07:58:24.646-08:00Friendship on Foreign ShoresTrue friendship knows no nationality, no boundaries, no international law. My friend, Kyoko, who celebrates her birthday this week, is as dear to me as someone who grew up living next door, though her neighborhood is in Tokyo Japan.<br />
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We've been good friends since 1977. No, I'm not from Japan and she's not from the US. That's part of what makes our friendship so extraordinary. We met in Iwakuni Japan when another American woman and I were looking for a department store that was having a sale. Shopping: The universal language for women, right?<br />
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Millie and I were in Iwakuni to visit our husbands, stationed there courtesy of the USMC. Having ridden bikes into town to shop, we stopped some ladies on the street to ask directions. "Sumimasen," I said, "Excuse me." That and a few other words filled the short list of Japanese at my command. We spoke in English, and showed the women an advertisement. The women smiled and nodded to show understanding, but our communication was hindered by lack of a mutual language.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigQVuUy0X4zll_pWeWEhSa0Kyg9jpP51cfugtRiDM2HKR9A3Mw7d-zbeGbO8Sku6f3ra2olkUa3oa0XYH-5RPdEoaXFULFeKGl6i1XAE_YckEFnnlrALJTC1sHx5jK6BSRAoN4Qlj1nzY/s1600/Millie,+Kyoko,+and+Susan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="249" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigQVuUy0X4zll_pWeWEhSa0Kyg9jpP51cfugtRiDM2HKR9A3Mw7d-zbeGbO8Sku6f3ra2olkUa3oa0XYH-5RPdEoaXFULFeKGl6i1XAE_YckEFnnlrALJTC1sHx5jK6BSRAoN4Qlj1nzY/s320/Millie,+Kyoko,+and+Susan.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Millie, Kyoko, Susan 1977</td></tr>
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Always helpful, the Japanese women stopped a young woman who was passing by and explained our situation. The young woman possessed a <em>joie de vivre</em>, a curiosity of all things that was immediately evident in intelligent eyes and a quick smile. And she had recently graduated university---majoring in English literature! How lucky for us to meet Kyoko on that day in that place. How fortunate I've been ever since.<br />
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Kyoko acted as our guide in her free time, showing us prominent sights and out-of-the-way places for the month I stayed in Japan. It was all new to me. Tatami mats, futons, toilets in the floor (even on trains--try to go with the flow in that situation!), Japanese etiquette and seafood (squid, octopus, and kelp). Before long we could ask her almost anything without offense and vice versa.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghsgTZwKtUM0gUREKi1RwENM66tqY0VwFd3y4aw5b7dE9s5LrlyvJGOw_3YNL4RlkQcjeycPzrjUHc7Ek7kZMK1FtmLot1G3P2wRiDCwB030lpaYTXNDyjmIOJqi1bUTu70hpgW2mIr_A/s1600/Kyoko+in+kimono.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghsgTZwKtUM0gUREKi1RwENM66tqY0VwFd3y4aw5b7dE9s5LrlyvJGOw_3YNL4RlkQcjeycPzrjUHc7Ek7kZMK1FtmLot1G3P2wRiDCwB030lpaYTXNDyjmIOJqi1bUTu70hpgW2mIr_A/s320/Kyoko+in+kimono.jpg" width="220" /></a>Kyoko married the next year, wearing beautiful traditional costumes; then changing into other outfits for the wedding events.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi04H_zL5LYo32lLCTH-5sEbXQkSV-xNu96Ol5MYIL3B-AyPv3mN68gtLFu11bFbWP3iV_Q5MH8cbuyGcZ6oNnGdr8SX2vX9TlYhc7PdBfM73jOO5ebXbVlMdt1BLqw0X8jIboqhgoEB58/s1600/Kyoko+in+traditional+bridal+gown.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="140" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi04H_zL5LYo32lLCTH-5sEbXQkSV-xNu96Ol5MYIL3B-AyPv3mN68gtLFu11bFbWP3iV_Q5MH8cbuyGcZ6oNnGdr8SX2vX9TlYhc7PdBfM73jOO5ebXbVlMdt1BLqw0X8jIboqhgoEB58/s200/Kyoko+in+traditional+bridal+gown.jpg" width="200" /></a>The next year, we received photos of beautiful twin boys, their sweet faces crowned with gobs of gorgeous black hair. We had two sons, as well, while Kyoko had a third son. Over time life got busier and the letters fewer. Without email and Facebook, snail mail and expensive phone calls were the communication methods of the day.<br />
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One evening in 1997 my husband answered the phone to a string of questions. Kyoko had called around the country until she found us again. She remained effervescent. One of her sons was attending school in the US and he was in a difficult situation. He no longer had a host family, so when school closed on the holidays, he had no where to go. Our home became his home for the holidays. <br />
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We loved having Kyoko's son with us, partly because he reminded us of her. He has the same gusto; a reach-out-and-grab-life philosophy. The first time he came to visit he opened an email from his mother. The first part was addressed to me in English: Thank you for having my son, etc. The second part was in Japanese. "That's for me," he said. I left him alone to read. <br />
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When he came downstairs, he reported that his mother's email instructed him to "be nice, pick up your clothes, say thank you." I laughed out loud. It was an ah-hah moment for me. Mothers are the same the world over. We just want our children to be safe in a place where someone cares for them and to be polite in return.<br />
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Kyoko loves to travel as much as I do and has visited many different shores. She visited large cities in the US such as New York and San Francisco, where she could take tours and public transportation. Visiting slower paced areas such as the NC coast is more problematic for foreign visitors. Renting a car to drive the coast or mountain areas of our state can be daunting.<br />
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So in October 2010, Kyoko came to our house to visit the southern coast. We took carriage rides in Wilmington, ate shrimp and grits in Charleston, visited the Biltmore estate in Asheville, went to a college football game in Clemson, shopped the outlet malls, and stayed in my relatives homes along the way. As we traveled, we caught up, filling in details of our years apart. Kyoko said to me one day, "We're lucky we get along so well." Even though we had enjoyed communicating all these years, being together for two solid weeks puts the relationship to the test.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> My cousin Judy, Susan, Kyoko 2010, Grove Park Inn, Asheville<br />
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And we passed with flying colors. Our friendship is a blessing to me and it shows me how connected we are around the world. She and I mother in the same way; both of us helicopter mothers. I understand her concerns for her children and she understands mine. When there is an earthquake and tsunami in Japan, it affects me closely. When she cares for an elderly family member, I know her concerns. <br />
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We can look at each other and see ourselves. That's a gift. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> Silver Pavilion</td></tr>
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Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05539141933589743270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4886317143201703396.post-39541843724017157642013-01-26T12:38:00.002-08:002013-01-27T10:36:58.591-08:00Family Traditions<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiItLdKRWCc4zQ6iuygR5RxSs4ezu8KVHwTQMbri4P5upg1RAfbjKbyyGMdIrcZOQ9zdhB7xN9PV6mPOCvDWTFSEzEONxNSEUywFxc59iCbBlXYdcOYne3sfXZzoeSkfKiQD5n-uU83Nls/s1600/DSCN0606.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiItLdKRWCc4zQ6iuygR5RxSs4ezu8KVHwTQMbri4P5upg1RAfbjKbyyGMdIrcZOQ9zdhB7xN9PV6mPOCvDWTFSEzEONxNSEUywFxc59iCbBlXYdcOYne3sfXZzoeSkfKiQD5n-uU83Nls/s320/DSCN0606.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
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</span><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: xx-small;">Sunset on the Cape Fear River, </span><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: xx-small;">© 2012 Susan E. Hance</span><br />
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Here it is near the end of January and I'm almost lucid again. I loved every minute of our holiday family time--well almost every minute. The memories: who can forget playing "Headband" with adults and children sitting around trying to guess what's written on the card attached to the headband on their own head; rushing into Christmas Eve candlelight service, all eight of us late as usual, hoping the kids wouldn't set anything on fire with the candle on the way out; grazing on the homemade peanut butter balls coated in chocolate and any number of other "sinful" delights; walks on the beach trying to burn off holiday calories and horseback riding lessons.<br />
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<span style="color: blue; font-size: large;">Walks on the beach trying to burn off holiday calories...</span><br />
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</span><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: xx-small;">CrossRoads Farm, © 2012 Susan E. Hance</span><br />
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<span style="color: blue; font-size: large;">...and horseback riding lessons</span>.<br />
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The pre-holiday wind up was intense, so the unwind by all rights had to be the same, only it should have been faster, right? You know when the old style phone cords got wound up and you took the cord close to the phone, held it up in the air with the receiver hanging down like a pendulum and the cord spun around until it started to go the other way? That's it. <br />
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Oftentimes the things that are worth doing may not be easy. The easy thing is not always the right thing. We could cut back, skip Christmas, have a limited version. While reducing materialism is a great idea, skipping traditions would change the culture of the family. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5LU9lDmuuMLkDvWxvGYJtArcqkJZLhUcBLO7eCUhCP2pEdIv2njuCLZFP6dR1DEHZYqxel3XeCliBesfweHMIkfkZ-rNmfWNO9nQaNT-rGZtBmRqUbpZ5hBpIivRBc4TLoXo-UFJTeAE/s1600/DSCN0500.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5LU9lDmuuMLkDvWxvGYJtArcqkJZLhUcBLO7eCUhCP2pEdIv2njuCLZFP6dR1DEHZYqxel3XeCliBesfweHMIkfkZ-rNmfWNO9nQaNT-rGZtBmRqUbpZ5hBpIivRBc4TLoXo-UFJTeAE/s200/DSCN0500.JPG" width="200" /></a>Over the years the kids have developed routines when they come to our house. At Christmas they ALWAYS watch Home Alone 1 and 2 and they look forward to it. They sleep on air mattresses in the FROG (family room over the garage) and if we tried to put them in a bed, they'd be insulted. According to them, sleeping in the FROG with the TV and DVD player readily available is their birthright. <br />
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There were songs to sing, presents to wrap, and <span style="color: #7f6000; font-size: large;">gingerbread houses to decorate.</span><br />
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When the extended clan came to visit for two days, we had around 20 people in the house. Everyone helped, everyone laughed, everyone had a story to tell. Those are the memories that stick with us and become a part of the <span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: large;">fabric of the family</span>. <br />
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One of the best parts is finding treasures when everyone leaves. I found a note the girls wrote about how much fun they had with their cousins (until one of them threw up) and how great family is. How'd they learn that? <span style="font-size: large;">From family gatherings.</span> Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05539141933589743270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4886317143201703396.post-50934850337671964422012-12-10T21:38:00.002-08:002013-06-16T20:25:24.800-07:00Fort Fisher<div style="clear: right; float: right; height: 1536px; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; width: 635px;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Fort Fisher, c. 2012 Susan E. Hance</span></td></tr>
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In the film,<em> Lincoln</em>, the President and his men focus on the attack on Fort Fisher in an effort to defeat the Confederacy in one last blow. I thought of all the times we've been to Fort Fisher, how its mounds are haunting, how you can feel the souls of those who fought there, imagining how they must have felt knowing this was the one last stronghold and that they would certainly be attacked.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">West toward the Cape Fear River, c 2012 Susan E. Hance</span></td></tr>
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The Confederate soldiers must have stared into the sunset on those December nights, shivering with cold and fright while Union soldiers planned their move. If the Union ended the war too soon, the President would not get the 13th amendment passed. The country would still face the need for abolition, yet Lincoln knew it would be more difficult to pass such an amendment if peace came first. What a weight on his shoulders.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Trees Bent Inland, c. 2012, Susan E. Hance</span></td></tr>
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The live oak trees at Fort Fisher are bent inland from years of ocean breezes pushing against their hardy frames. If only they could talk. What sights have they seen, what conversations have they heard, what prayers from the soon-to-be departed have they lifted up? <br />
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In the book, <strong><a href="http://www.andyandrews.com/ms/the-butterfly-effect/" target="_blank">The Butterfly Effect</a>,</strong> Andy Andrews uses examples from the Civil War to talk about why each of our lives matters. The Butterfly Effect is based on a thesis that if a butterfly flaps its wings, it moves the air around it, that moves the air next to it, and the chain reaction can literally change the weather around the world. Andrews describes the role of school teacher, Joshua Chamberlain, officer in the Union army, who in the face of almost certain defeat when his unit had massive human losses and no ammunition, gave the order to charge with bayonets fixed. To the astonishment of all involved, they won the battle. He goes on to say that if the South had won the Civil War, there would have been more than two countries, North and South; there would have been multiple sovereign states, as there are in Europe. Interesting thought. </div>
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Further, he says if that were the case, if the USA were divided, it would not have been strong enough to prevail in WWII. Chilling thought.<br />
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While in battle, Joshua Chamberlain was hit by a bullet. In the belt buckle. He did not die. That's when he rose to lead the charge that changed history.<br />
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<strong>Andrews' point is that we each have a purpose; each of us has a life that matters.</strong> <em>And everything we do matters. </em>We can change the course of history,just by doing what we were put here to do. Ours may not be the battle that changes the country's history, but it may change the history of those around us. As a result, they will change the history of those around them. Awesome thought, isn't it?</div>
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Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05539141933589743270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4886317143201703396.post-84688776268961548692012-11-27T20:02:00.001-08:002012-12-13T06:38:41.941-08:00Camellia: The Rose of Winter<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOOqEJasNCfhePblG5yrKm4Py5yl3i2vs8LT00-ceg-pPzYyaJiBiRuKV_sXaC-4tu7QYCXSE875KKRHSvKJSNIWPFXk_ZTy7IZ8Ydj2Um5ylXcK1OweWMBF5lzXm4I1T8eBcIWAtCH-0/s1600/Camellia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOOqEJasNCfhePblG5yrKm4Py5yl3i2vs8LT00-ceg-pPzYyaJiBiRuKV_sXaC-4tu7QYCXSE875KKRHSvKJSNIWPFXk_ZTy7IZ8Ydj2Um5ylXcK1OweWMBF5lzXm4I1T8eBcIWAtCH-0/s640/Camellia.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Camellia with Bee, <span style="font-family: Calibri;">©<o:p></o:p></span>
2012, Susan E. Hance</span><span style="font-size: small;">
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Thanksgiving Day dawned beautiful and there were so many things to be grateful for, the list would wrap around the house. Even though we couldn't get together with all the family we longed for, we were able to Skype--and that's amazing in itself. For an 88 year-old to interact with an 8 year-old, miles apart, started me thinking of all the developments of the last hundred years. <br />
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Since 1912, we've been through two World Wars and numerous regional ones. We've experienced the rise and fall of the Berlin wall, the development of penicillin, the advent of televisions in every home, computers, near eradication of smallpox, awesome advances in medical treatments, telephones have morphed from wall bound instruments to portable computers, email, text messages, and automobiles that talk to us. <br />
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And <a href="http://roadnow.com/i40/" target="_blank">I-40</a> was completed all the way from Wilmington, NC to Barstow, CA. We are a connected country, shore to shore, Atlantic to Pacific.<br />
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What would Alexander Graham Bell or Henry Ford think of the world today? The story goes that the first time my great-grandfather, James Daniel Dean, saw a "moving picture show," he walked out, deeming it "a bunch of foolishness." My guess is he'd have no interest in tweeting.<br />
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I'm grateful for all the <a href="http://www.google.com/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&frm=1&source=web&cd=3&ved=0CEYQFjAC&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.innovation.org%2Fdocuments%2FSelected%2520Advances%2520in%2520the%252020th%2520Century.ppt&ei=To61UKicFJHI9QSBq4GgCg&usg=AFQjCNHShMxuYt39qax47h3M_LP4PiQ7xw" target="_blank">advances</a> in my lifetime, but I'm learning to appreciate the small things in each moment. Maybe it's my age, but I hope everyone can find small pleasures in each day. <br />
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On Thanksgiving, I noticed from the kitchen window that the bees were happily visiting every blossom on the <a href="http://www.bhg.com/gardening/plant-dictionary/shrub/camellia/" target="_blank">camellia </a>bush. I've always liked the label, "<strong>Rose of Winter</strong>" that I'd heard given to that flower. I'm not sure mine is that variety, but it blooms in November and December here on the southern coast. It's my rose of winter, regardless of it's variety. In the next moment I was outside, knowing my food preparation would wait until I returned. I was as drawn to the bush as the bees, admiring its delicate petals, verdant leaves, and numerous buds; offering the promise of more to come.<br />
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In winter, when it can be bleak, there is simple beauty to be found. We sometimes feel down about what we lack, yet there is abundance all around us. <strong>Let's look for the promise of things to come and grasp our opportunities.</strong><br />
<br />Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05539141933589743270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4886317143201703396.post-58035287748475596622012-11-01T13:44:00.001-07:002012-12-13T06:40:39.908-08:00Hurricanes at High Tide Under a Full Moon<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NLJ5iZYAj14/UJLRwBpn_-I/AAAAAAAAAgE/7uxlmIHBx94/s1600/DSC_0061.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NLJ5iZYAj14/UJLRwBpn_-I/AAAAAAAAAgE/7uxlmIHBx94/s320/DSC_0061.JPG" width="214" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Full moon on high tide, c. 2012 Susan E. Hance</span></td></tr>
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Coastal dwellers know. High winds, high tide, full moon, bad news. Sadly the Northeast has experienced just that. The good news is: disaster can bring out the best in people.<br />
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I was asked how many hurricanes I've experienced. Not counting tropical storms, there are 18, best I can figure. <br />
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We drove the coast from Pensacola, FL to Mobile, AL one month after hurricane Camille and were astounded to see ships in the highway median and grand old homes that once faced the ocean reduced to toothpick size rubble. In 1996, Fran ripped the 197 foot steeple off our 126 year old church and left it lying in the street like the tip snapped off a string bean. And last year we came home to find a pine tree resting on the roof of our house over the piano. But in the end it's all just stuff, and we are alive and well.<br />
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One thing I've learned through all these storms is that people step up to the occasion. And not just because it's their job. The people who go into helping professions (hospital workers, emergency personnel, law enforcement, firefighters, meteorologists, etc.) go into those professions because they are nurturing people. Thank goodness. The image of the nurse holding and bagging a neonate, while they were placed in the ambulance, is an iconic example.<br />
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During the 16 years I worked in the hospital setting, I learned how they decide who will stay on duty and who will go home to tend to their own families. There was a list of two sets of staff: Team A and Team B and people volunteer. If the hurricane lasts a long time-which it did when Dennis went up the coast, turned and came back-Team A takes care of patients while Team B rests. Then they reverse. The teams are "locked down" in the hospital when the winds reach sufficient strength. It isn't safe to drive or go in and out of the hospital. Until then, people can slip away to prepare their own families, then return. Meanwhile the hospital rooms must be prepared, food that doesn't need cooking stocked up and bottled water brought in. Staff members get sleeping bags or cots and choose a spot on the floor in an office or conference room. There isn't a room for all of them to sleep in a bed. Patients who can be discharged are. The rest hunker down.<br />
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Once there is lock down, staff is isolated from their own spouses, elderly parents, children and pets. Their focus becomes keeping patients safe and as comfortable as possible.<br />
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When the power goes out, the generators run only the red emergency outlets, used for breath support and other critical instruments. In hot weather, the temperature rises, while the humidity races to wilt everything. The windows are made to bow in high winds so they don't shatter. At the height of the storm they begin to pulse in and out. Patient beds are moved into the hallways, away from the windows and closer to available light in the evening. Patients are miserable: afraid for themselves and their families, uncomfortable in the heat, tired of sandwiches and fruit, and anxious about the storm's outcome.<br />
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Staff members meet the physical needs of the patients, while also trying to distract them: tell some stories, sing songs, offer a smile and a listening ear.<br />
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When the storm passes, those who are on duty just hope replacements can make it into the hospital. After endless hours of nurturing others, they want to go home to their families. During Hurricane Floyd, those who left the area could not get back in. Flood waters kept rising for days, as the flooded rivers drained toward the ocean. <br />
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Fortunately, the power company works on restoring power to the hospital first. That means power company employees have been on call all through the storm, ready to move at the first opportunity. They even come in from other states to assist; long caravans of power company trucks are seen moving into the storm area as residents evacuate.. All over town, people who serve others are in the same situation; standing ready. <br />
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<strong>Let's give thanks today for those who help others</strong>. Thank a medical worker, law enforcement member, firefighter, power company employee, military personnel, public official, or anyone else who has devoted his/her life to helping others every day. It's more than a job to them.<br />
<br />Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05539141933589743270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4886317143201703396.post-20856631939740763282012-10-27T14:09:00.002-07:002012-10-27T19:19:01.722-07:00Lessons From The Coast: Walking on Water<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmnXtxeYiBWTgRj_9F0p8fFlfggWGUp8AFz5pbKPTyHf56Rc5nhlFpFkjOnVdVzlQ-rvZFYglJ5sCOCF9LaScw3Ct1Vg7hmokhAfcrFvwIGP_PENe9oGA0cNm7P6_ZKNFOT7ybY4zWL8o/s1600/DSCN0341.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmnXtxeYiBWTgRj_9F0p8fFlfggWGUp8AFz5pbKPTyHf56Rc5nhlFpFkjOnVdVzlQ-rvZFYglJ5sCOCF9LaScw3Ct1Vg7hmokhAfcrFvwIGP_PENe9oGA0cNm7P6_ZKNFOT7ybY4zWL8o/s640/DSCN0341.JPG" style="clear: both; float: left; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px;" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">The Rocks, <span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">© 2012 Susan E. Hance</span></span></td></tr>
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Near Fort Fisher off the end of Federal Point, there's a wall known as "The Rocks". Built by the Corps of Engineers from the tip of the peninsula to Zeke's Island, it creates The Basin. Constructed between 1870 and 1891, the <a href="http://www.myreporter.com/?p=11579" target="_blank">rock jetty</a> was designed by Henry Bacon to prevent silt from filling in Wilmington's route to the sea. Later his son, also named Henry, would use that knowledge in construction of the Lincoln Memorial.<br />
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Locals know that you can walk the wall all the way to <a href="http://www.nccoastalreserve.net/uploads/File/general/Chapter%205%20Zekes%20Island-site%20profile.pdf" target="_blank">Zeke's Island</a>, but you'd better know the tides. It covers with water at high tide. Now days the rock is crumbling and treacherous in places, so walking out at low tide is tedious, and walking back at high tide can be tricky.<br />
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One local woman took her young son to the tip of Federal Point one day. He pointed to the area between the point and the island and said, "Mommy, is that Jesus?"<br />
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"No, son. Why do you ask?"<br />
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"He's walking on water."<br />
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The man was making his way back as the water covered the wall, but things were not as they seemed.<br />
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<strong><span style="font-size: large;">Knowing the path I'm walking and where I'm going helps in life</span></strong>. Even when I'm up to my ankles in water, knowing where I came from can lead me back to a solid foundation.<br />
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Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05539141933589743270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4886317143201703396.post-45917715133936376382012-10-26T13:30:00.000-07:002012-10-26T13:55:13.427-07:00Lessons From The Coast: Low Tide<div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Low tide brings great discoveries,</strong></span><span style="font-size: small;"> like an</span> array of shells, many broken, but some that have survived the tumultuous trip in tact; a feather, the shell in which an animal once made its home, part of a claw and some man-made debris. <br />
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When we find ourselves at low tide, just when things seem depleted, we might feel broken and beat about by the surf, and that's when we find what we're really made of. We find grit and treasures within us that we didn't even know were there, or had forgotten. <br />
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Then we find we are whole at the core. Just like a perfect pair of angel wings. <br />
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Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05539141933589743270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4886317143201703396.post-61601297310533788932012-10-26T13:25:00.003-07:002012-10-26T13:56:15.040-07:00Lessons From The Coast: Butterflies at the Beach<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Butterflies at Fort Fisher, <span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">©</span><o:p></o:p></span>
2012 Susan E. Hance</span><span style="font-size: small;">
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<strong><span style="font-size: large;">Have you found beauty in the most unexpected places</span></strong>? The beach holds beauty for me, even when the ocean crashes with all its strength against the shore and tosses white caps across its surface. Most often it is serene when we walk on the beach, with soothing air, the cawing of laughing gulls, and sandpipers and terns running little marathons to catch their dinner under a mango colored sunset.<br />
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When I saw butterflies at Carolina Beach and Fort Fisher, I wondered what they could possibly want from the sand and surf. Surely not salty water for their little bodies and there are no blossoms growing on the beach. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Butterflies near Battery Buchanan, <span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">©</span><o:p></o:p></span>
2012 Susan E. Hance</span><span style="font-size: small;">
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But that's where I was wrong. Along the boardwalk Lantana bushes and flowers grew by human design. And in the dunes wild flowers and patches of weeds thrived, with butterflies greeting them like old friends. The butterflies busied themselves flittng from one plant to another, finding life and beauty in a place where it would seem they might not frequent.<br />
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Occasionally they took a cruise down the beach, then returned to their livelihood. That's how I like it too. A visit to the beach and back to life as we know it. And I think to myself, "Aren't we so LUCKY to live on the coast?" The lesson is to find beauty in unexpected places, wherever we are.</div>
Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05539141933589743270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4886317143201703396.post-27733108000037254522012-10-26T11:20:00.000-07:002012-10-27T14:45:58.182-07:00Lessons From The Coast: Ruffled Feathers<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Fussy Grackle <span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">©</span><o:p></o:p></span>
2012, Susan E. Hance</span><span style="font-size: small;">
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Maybe it's a beautiful day, a productive work session, a family gathering, or just a trip to do errands. You go along in a good mood; then there she is. The one with the ruffled feathers. Many of us automatically think, "What did I do wrong." The answer, "Nothing." </div>
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It has taken me a long time to realize that there are some people who just have to look on the bad side. More than a cup half full, more than a worst case scenario-type person. A person who LOOKS for the bad. As my mother says, "If you walked on water, she'd say 'Look at her, she can't even swim.'"</div>
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I tried for many years to 'fix' the situation, but now I know,<strong> <span style="font-size: large;">ruffled-feather types don't want a fix</span>.</strong> That would take all the fun out of it for them.That realization makes me much happier too. I can walk on and enjoy life.</div>
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There are different types of difficult people in different settings and this <a href="http://www.psychologytoday.com/collections/201205/difficult-people/the-high-art-handling-problem-people?page=4" target="_blank">article</a> gives good suggestions for dealing with each of them. </div>
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The grackle in this photo had her(I think it's a her) hackles raised as I walked on the beach one day. I walked on and I'm sure she went on with her day, without any assistance from me. We were both better off.</div>
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Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05539141933589743270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4886317143201703396.post-90115763045170230092012-10-08T15:06:00.000-07:002012-10-26T10:48:02.786-07:00Lessons from the Coast: Walking Into the Wind<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Walking on the beach is soothing. It lets me get my thoughts together, and frankly after Labor Day is my favorite time. Visitors return home to settle into bustling lives, school, work, and everyday challenges. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">There are lessons to be learned at the beach. It's a microcosm of life in some ways. Here is one lesson. I'll post others in the days to come. You may have others to share.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><strong><span style="font-size: large;">Start out walking into the wind</span></strong>. You'll be tired on the return trip and the wind at your back will help you along. The Irish prayer says, "May the wind be always at your back." Of course we wish we could sail along without resistance. But in life, the initial struggle to achieve your goal makes the other side easier going (but not without gusts).</span><span style="font-family: Arial;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Memory plays out my struggles to finish college, graduate school, the first job, marriage and parenthood. Experience and confidence make things easier in some respects, though marriage and parenthood are filled with swells and gusts continuously, no matter how many years we have at the helm.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">I watch the pelicans glide into the wind, soaring just above the water, using the wind to stay aloft and to control their bodies as they search for dinner. Hopefully I can learn to use resistance to stay aloft and steer a clear course too.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #274e13; font-size: x-small;">May the road rise to meet you,<br />May the wind be always at your back.<br />May the sun shine warm upon your face,<br />The rains fall soft upon your fields.<br />And until we meet again,<br />May God hold you in the palm of his hand.<br /><br />May God be with you and bless you:<br />May you see your children's children.<br />May you be poor in misfortune,<br />Rich in blessings.<br />May you know nothing but happiness<br />From this day forward.<br /><br />May the road rise up to meet you<br />May the wind be always at your back<br />May the warm rays of sun fall upon your home<br />And may the hand of a friend always be near.<br /><br />May green be the grass you walk on,<br />May blue be the skies above you,<br />May pure be the joys that surround you,<br />May true be the hearts that love you.</span></div>
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Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05539141933589743270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4886317143201703396.post-5578861262856699952012-08-28T20:18:00.000-07:002012-10-27T14:56:15.106-07:00Low Country<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Charleston's Cooper River Bridge, photo <span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">© 2012 Susan E. Hance</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">There is something timeless and aluring about the low country of South Carolina. As soon as we travel over the bridge in Georgetown, I can imagine people in the 1800s working the rice fields, boating down the river, or riding a horse under low hanging Spanish moss that drapes the ancient live oaks. If only they could talk.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">It makes me wonder what generations to come will remember of us.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I visit family near Charleston where we make memories. Who knows, maybe the oaks, water, and sand absorb those memories so that they seep into the fabric of the place. And the fabric changes over time, ever so slightly, like the tides. People who once loved and lived a culture leave us remnants, and as they change, so does our inheritance. Oftentimes for the better.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Charleston's charming old buildings and new construction live in harmony. <strong>We can too</strong>.</span></div>
Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05539141933589743270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4886317143201703396.post-9158313227624746482012-08-21T19:59:00.000-07:002012-10-27T14:52:58.927-07:00Stormy Days<div style="text-align: left;">
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Photo<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">© 2012 , Su</span></span>san E. Hance</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The coast has its moods, just like the rest of us. On stormy days the ocean churns and birds fly into the wind and rain, braving the elements until the sky clears and bright sunlight breaks through. Sound like an analogy for life? Maybe it is.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Recently, a friend from long ago found me through Facebook. We caught up via email; how's the family, where do you live now, how's life? She is remarried after finding a person who brings contentment to life, a soul mate for the next leg of the journey. I want things to be good for her. She was good to me on a hot August day long ago.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My water broke during the 11 o'clock news and we drove to New Bern, like night shift workers cutting a path through muggy black air toward the hospital. Our son's two a.m. arrival came quietly, as his blue lips spurted small sounds and the nurses communicated with looks, not words. Not to say his birth was without fanfare. In the next 48 hours there was a flurry of activity while doctors assessed his large body and weak breathing. By the time he was transported to Duke University Hospital, leaving me on the maternity floor without a baby, I was in desperate need of a friend--and she came through. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She worked as a nurse anesthetist, but on this her day off, she donned her badge so she could skirt visiting hours and keep me company. The doctors came to tell me the sad news: your baby might have a heart or lung defect. Having no idea what that meant for him or what his outcome would be, we had to set our faces into the wind and press on. My friend made the trip more bearable by <em>being there</em>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Two weeks ago, the love of her life went to the doctor because of a persistent cough. He is fit in every other way and just needed something for the cough. The doctors told them the bad news: lung cancer in a person who has never smoked. Stage IV, spread to brain and bone. Just like that. I cried as if he were my own relative, though I've never met him. If you need someone to talk to or a shoulder to cry on, call me, I said. I'll come see you on your New England coast, I said; we'll have coffee or a glass of wine. I can't do much, but <span style="font-size: large;"><strong>sometimes it's just about <em>being there</em> until you can see sunlight again.</strong></span></span></div>
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Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05539141933589743270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4886317143201703396.post-53869139776913543392012-08-20T20:59:00.001-07:002012-10-29T19:13:47.744-07:00Coastal Living<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Photo <span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">© 2012,</span></span> Susan E. Hance</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Coastal living has a flavor that's different from inland places. A different pace. As the bumper sticker says, "Slow down, this is not the mainland." </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I like the pace and others do too. They visit, go home and pack, move here and take up the lifestyle.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In the coastal towns I've visited all over the US and in other countries, people living on saltwater share some similarities.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">We have sand in our shoes (and hair and houses), a wide assortment of beach equipment, coolers and sunscreen, and an easy-going spirit.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We know going kayaking at high tide is good and a hurricane coming in on high tide and a full moon is bad. We know summer's the time to hear laughing gulls go crazy and winter can be the best time to catch a mango-colored sunset.</span> </div>
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Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05539141933589743270noreply@blogger.com0