Category Media
There once was a Young Doctor treating a wound. The wound was small, but festering, and it didn’t seem to be healing. So the Young Doctor and the other doctors at the hospital tried pouring salt in the wound. It didn’t… Continue Reading →
There is the progressive worldview – that human nature is evolving and civilization is destined to perfect itself – and the conservative worldview – that human nature is relatively fixed and history is cyclical – and I confess, I fluctuate… Continue Reading →
There once was a little fish. The fish lived in a tank with a bunch of other fish, happily swimming around in the water. She breathed through the water, got her nourishment through it, moved around in it, even slept… Continue Reading →
Here’s the beautiful candlelight vigil that happened in Waterfront Park last night. I almost didn’t go. I learned about it yesterday morning, and my internal conflict started immediately. Here’s a glimpse of what it’s like up in Crazy Town, otherwise… Continue Reading →
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 →
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 →
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 →
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 →
Have I mentioned that I like birds? Yes, that was sarcasm. And unlike Donald Trump, I understand the meaning of the word. I’m well aware I’ve written about birds here. Ad nauseam. (Your nauseam, not mine. I could go on… Continue Reading →
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 →