It's Me, Margaret.

Category

Faith

for susan, with love

For the past year or so, every conversation I had with my friend Susan Shaffer started something like this: “Hey, Margaret… when are you coming paddle boarding with me?” “Soon, I hope. I really want to, but…” This is my… Continue Reading →

what i got out of ‘get out’

I recently did something completely decadent and absolutely satisfying. I took myself to the movies at 11:45 on a Wednesday morning. That’s right – smack in the middle of the work day and the work week, I snuck off to the Plaza Stadium Theatre… Continue Reading →

on not marching

Yesterday, I ran into a friend at the MLK Day parade – somebody I’ve known and admired for a long time. She stepped out of the parade to give me a hug and a mint-green rubber bracelet that reads “Choosing Love,… Continue Reading →

on matthew, conroy, and other forces of nature

For this issue, I had planned to write about A Lowcountry Heart, the wondrous new collection of essays by the late Pat Conroy. (After almost six months, that phrase still looks outrageous to me in print. “The late Pat Conroy.”… Continue Reading →

where were you?

I wrote this essay 5 years ago, for the 10th anniversary of 9/11. I still mean every word of it… ### Last Saturday night, I was sitting with some friends on our second-story office porch overlooking Waterfront Park. The air was… Continue Reading →

the finest thing around

I wade into this column with trepidation. There’s something beautiful I want to share with you, but I’ll have to walk through a field of landmines to get to my point. Along the way, I’ll be discussing things like race… Continue Reading →

prayer under a morning moon

To find my own path in the woods… To proceed down that path with joy and courage And also with humility . . . Never expecting anybody to follow But always welcoming fellow travelers . . . To wish only… Continue Reading →

our national infection

Before sunup last Thursday morning, I dragged my creaky self, in my creaky station wagon, over to the Lowe’s parking lot to fetch my daughter. She’d been bussed back to Beaufort overnight with 80 local teenagers who’d just spent the… Continue Reading →

where the wild things are

I think I’ve mentioned our cat door, haven’t I? There’s no more certain indicator that spring is sprung than the sudden annual influx of critters – the undomesticated kind – through the small, humble flap that separates our kitchen from… Continue Reading →

that’s so conroy

In the days immediately following Pat Conroy’s death, I couldn’t write a word. It happened on a Friday night, and by Saturday morning there were already long, comprehensive tributes appearing in publications as nearby as the Beaufort Gazette, as far-flung… Continue Reading →

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