Lance Little was still in high school when, sitting on the porch shooting the breeze, he came up with an idea that seemed far-fetched — a restaurant that cures world hunger. It was clever, but wasn’t it a bit naive? The fast-food giants were making billions, but the fry cooks came home smelling like cheap grease, earning minimum wage while the money funneled upwards. Meanwhile, even in first-world America, children were going hungry. Of course, this was high school, and Little wasn’t too concerned with the economics of the idea. Enrolled in Hilton Head Island High School’s ROTC program, he had plenty to keep him occupied, along with being an average teenager. But his idea to end world hunger would not be ignored, even as he grew up and moved on with his life.
In many parts of the country, April showers bring May flowers. Here in the Lowcountry, April brings more than 100,000 people to our tranquil island for the RBC Heritage Presented by Boeing.
Locals simply call it “Heritage Week.” Saying it’s important would be a huge understatement. For many local businesses, it is the most important week of the year. And considering the adversity faced during and after Hurricane Matthew, many need this to be the biggest and best Heritage Week ever.
Recently an engaged reader thanked us for being a dependable and relevant source of non-fake local news. The compliment made me think deeper about the topic of truth.
It is easy to assume that in the age of the internet, finding the truth would be one of the great benefits that the communication revolution has enabled. But there are several fundamentals reasons why the “truth” can be hard to determine.
During our telephone interview, Jillian Traver is negotiating a narrow English country lane in her compact Vauxhall Tigra while chirping away about music festivals in Latvia and the rich craft of winemaking. She’s picking up her fiancé, fresh off work in London proper, at the train station and they’re driving to their very first home in a village outside the city. He hops in the car and greets me in British English that seems to have rubbed off on Traver.
Creating a “Power Issue” is not a new idea; many lifestyle magazines have done it before. In most cases, the end result is a collection of “powerful” individuals from the community. We tried to do the same thing but were unable to agree on the selection criteria.
Do we include part-time residents? Do we just list people who are powerful now, or do we also include powerful people from the past? Do they have to be alive? Do we let our readers vote? Is it subjective or based on fact?
It’s times like these, with rain and snow blurring the shrill light of fire trucks lined five deep down the Brooklyn street outside a raucous jazz session at my neighborhood pizza bar, that I recall the South.
What I cherish most are the in-betweens — some clash between open space and strange timing. One time, driving home from Charleston for Christmas on Hilton Head Island, I remember dozens of eyes suddenly shining from the median of Interstate 95. The deer had taken the quiet for their own strange church revival. I knew I wasn’t supposed to be there.
It’s 2009, and Vijay Viswanathan is fly-fishing on a remote river in Alaska’s Togiak National Wildlife Refuge.
This is grizzly country, where glacial peaks give way to an endless sea of green scrub valleys, through which weave streams where virgin trout that have never known the taste of a steel hook die of old age. Viswanathan embarked with a small team of professional athletes and biologists carrying all they needed to live and fish for a week. “Trips like that give me the same feeling I get when skiing through fresh powder,” he said. “These are memories that will stay with me forever.”
“I love you.” I say those three words quite often. If you know me well, you know that I am a very passionate person. I’m passionate about my family, my friends and my work. I tell many people in my life that I love them, and those three words have meaning when I say or write them.
After sailing through the night, the flash of a lighthouse signaled hope for a safe passage to the chartered destination. For centuries, lighthouses helped sailors reach safe harbor.
In a world that at times can feel dark and uncertain, it is more important than ever that we know how to plot our own courses and navigate ourselves and our loved ones to safe ports. How do you overcome the daily stress imposed on you by an environment that is full of noise, chaos, hatred and anxiety?
New beginnings, fresh starts, reaffirmations of love and promises for a brighter future all come to mind as we ring in a new year. Country musician Brad Paisley may have said it best: “Tomorrow is the first blank page of a 365-page book. Write a good one.”
Here at Monthly, we begin each new year with our “Intriguing People of the Lowcountry” special section. It’s something we’ve been doing since 1997.
Where does your water come from? Not long ago, a vast freshwater aquifer stretching from South Carolina’s coast through Georgia and Florida supplied the wells that quenched the Lowcountry. But aquifers can be depleted by overuse, and many wells have become compromised as salt water has seeped in where fresh water used to be. Now much of the Lowcountry’s water is sourced from the Savannah River. Thankfully, Hilton Head Island boasts a budget large enough to afford supplemental water sources, and the means to purify them.
When you decided to move here, you evaluated the weather, geographic distances to family or work, real estate pricing, taxes, schools, recreational amenities, health infrastructure, crime rates, job opportunities or things to keep you busy if you are retired.
But there was something else that drew you here and made you fall in love with the Lowcountry. It is the “local” feeling — the many intangibles that combined create a sense of place; the things that make us unique and give us a distinct flavor that makes living or visiting here a different experience than let’s say Melbourne, Florida.
The Monthly team is (from left) Allyson Vernick, Cathy Flory, Charles Grace, Mary Ann Kent, Lance Hanlin, Lori Goodridge-Cribb, Marc Frey, Jeremy Swartz, Rebecca V. Kerns, Majka Yarbrough and Anuska Frey.
As we publish the last issue of 2016, it is once again time for us to reflect on the outgoing year and make plans for a new one.
Certainly this year has been unusual, overshadowed by a divisive presidential campaign that made it even more important for all of us to remember that we are one community. Closer to home, we had to deal with what will hopefully be the storm of the century and if you are like most, Hurricane Matthew has stolen two weeks out of our regular rhythm and left enough “mulch” for the next decade.
I caught up with Paul Vecchione straight off an Ironman finish in Coeur D’Alene, Idaho, a town whose name seems to say, “This isn’t Boise.”
Idaho may remind you of a giant potato, but this town, nestled upon an alpine lake near Spokane, is far from middle America. And as he tells me about the race in his downtown Manhattan apartment, Vecchione, whom I’ve known since high school — though not well — keeps impressing me.