but having children is their business.”
“It’s a different world out there today than when I was a young woman,” Mother said. “I’m not so sure I’d have the courage to raise children in all this insanity. More rice, Harrison? Mellie? ”
“Thanks, yes. Miss Josie? You are absolutely right. The world is a crazy place.”
We continued eating until nearly everything was gone. Harrison, after some prodding, talked about his recycling work—apparently he and Mother were the reigning royalty of the Lowcountry movement not only to conserve and reuse but also to raise awareness of how easy it was to incorporate these practices into daily life.
“If each person just did one thing, think what a difference that could make,” Mother said.
“You’re preaching to the choir, Miss Josie. Why don’t I clear the table and then squire you ladies down to the beach for a little walk to shake it all down. It’s so bright we can probably see cabdrivers in Lisbon.”
We put all the dishes in the sink, covered them with hot suds, laughing about the numbers of eyeglasses, toothbrushes, and sneakers they had gathered in the past year. Their projects were mildly interesting if not actually remarkable. Even to a dedicated skeptic like me.
The cleanup was fast and Harrison poured out some of a second bottle of wine. We had not had enough wine to be tipsy, but just enough to feel relaxed and happy. We bundled up in jackets and gloves and rode over to Station Eighteen in Harrison’s Mercury Mountaineer. He opened thesunroof and I began to let my mind drift as I took in the natural beauty above me.
When we parked, Harrison helped Mother down from her seat and then held out a hand for me. I could feel his strength as he held my elbow and knew that he would never have let either of us fall. It had been forever since I had felt the grip of any man besides Kevin, who was a dear, to be sure, but he did not elicit the same response from my nervous system as Harrison. I blushed again, hoped he could not see it in the dark and wondered what was going on with me. Was I having an episode of “Any Port in a Storm”?
The night was crystal clear and there were countless stars overhead, sparkling and multiplying as our eyes adjusted to the darkness. It was chilly but invigorating to be in the salty night breeze. We moved through the white dunes, pristine even in the dead of night, and began walking east. The tide was low but sliding in quickly enough to be the perfect background music—rising with a muffled roar and receding in whispers. The phosphorus ocean sparkled and in the reflection of its dazzle we found our voices again.
“Tell me more about you,” I said in what I considered to be a rather bold move.
“Me?” Harrison said. “Well, I spent twenty years in investment banking and did all right.”
“He made a killing,” Mother said. “Don’t let him fool you.”
“Mother!” Sometimes my mother’s mouth was a loose cannon.
“That’s okay. Anyway, when my wife told me she preferred my best friend’s bed to mine, I threw my golf clubs in the Ashepoo River and took up fishing. Fishing is good for the soul. Gives you time to think.”
“I imagine so,” I said.
“So after I settled here and as time went on I started finding out about mercury levels in the water, hence in the seafood . Then it was chemical runoff from parking lots into the water supply and into the seafood . We’rebasically poisoning ourselves. Then I guess it was just waste that was bugging me—you know, we are such a wasteful society—all the landfills and so on. Anyway, those were the beginning thoughts that made me want to change my life and to help clean up and preserve the world around me. Just quit wasting stuff, you know?”
He and Mother seemed to share in this wacky concept of living green, but more important, living without the commercial trappings of the world over the causeway.
“So, you don’t watch television?” I said, teasing
“It’s a different world out there today than when I was a young woman,” Mother said. “I’m not so sure I’d have the courage to raise children in all this insanity. More rice, Harrison? Mellie? ”
“Thanks, yes. Miss Josie? You are absolutely right. The world is a crazy place.”
We continued eating until nearly everything was gone. Harrison, after some prodding, talked about his recycling work—apparently he and Mother were the reigning royalty of the Lowcountry movement not only to conserve and reuse but also to raise awareness of how easy it was to incorporate these practices into daily life.
“If each person just did one thing, think what a difference that could make,” Mother said.
“You’re preaching to the choir, Miss Josie. Why don’t I clear the table and then squire you ladies down to the beach for a little walk to shake it all down. It’s so bright we can probably see cabdrivers in Lisbon.”
We put all the dishes in the sink, covered them with hot suds, laughing about the numbers of eyeglasses, toothbrushes, and sneakers they had gathered in the past year. Their projects were mildly interesting if not actually remarkable. Even to a dedicated skeptic like me.
The cleanup was fast and Harrison poured out some of a second bottle of wine. We had not had enough wine to be tipsy, but just enough to feel relaxed and happy. We bundled up in jackets and gloves and rode over to Station Eighteen in Harrison’s Mercury Mountaineer. He opened thesunroof and I began to let my mind drift as I took in the natural beauty above me.
When we parked, Harrison helped Mother down from her seat and then held out a hand for me. I could feel his strength as he held my elbow and knew that he would never have let either of us fall. It had been forever since I had felt the grip of any man besides Kevin, who was a dear, to be sure, but he did not elicit the same response from my nervous system as Harrison. I blushed again, hoped he could not see it in the dark and wondered what was going on with me. Was I having an episode of “Any Port in a Storm”?
The night was crystal clear and there were countless stars overhead, sparkling and multiplying as our eyes adjusted to the darkness. It was chilly but invigorating to be in the salty night breeze. We moved through the white dunes, pristine even in the dead of night, and began walking east. The tide was low but sliding in quickly enough to be the perfect background music—rising with a muffled roar and receding in whispers. The phosphorus ocean sparkled and in the reflection of its dazzle we found our voices again.
“Tell me more about you,” I said in what I considered to be a rather bold move.
“Me?” Harrison said. “Well, I spent twenty years in investment banking and did all right.”
“He made a killing,” Mother said. “Don’t let him fool you.”
“Mother!” Sometimes my mother’s mouth was a loose cannon.
“That’s okay. Anyway, when my wife told me she preferred my best friend’s bed to mine, I threw my golf clubs in the Ashepoo River and took up fishing. Fishing is good for the soul. Gives you time to think.”
“I imagine so,” I said.
“So after I settled here and as time went on I started finding out about mercury levels in the water, hence in the seafood . Then it was chemical runoff from parking lots into the water supply and into the seafood . We’rebasically poisoning ourselves. Then I guess it was just waste that was bugging me—you know, we are such a wasteful society—all the landfills and so on. Anyway, those were the beginning thoughts that made me want to change my life and to help clean up and preserve the world around me. Just quit wasting stuff, you know?”
He and Mother seemed to share in this wacky concept of living green, but more important, living without the commercial trappings of the world over the causeway.
“So, you don’t watch television?” I said, teasing
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