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The story of a recycle bin

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This is what I saw at the bottom of my driveway one Sunday morning in late May when I pulled out to go to church. A frat party gone bad? A bunch of kids partying in my yard?     But, no, I didn't cringe when I saw these chock-full recycle bins...I smiled. I recalled the great time we'd had the day before getting ready for and then helping to host our annual neighborhood party. I laughed when I remembered the multiple generations pitching in to make a huge feast on the checkerboard of tables we set up in the street. These two recycle bins contained the remains of pizza boxes, soda cans, water bottles, a half dozen ketchup and mustard  bottles that were the base of homemade BBQ sauce, juice boxes, Snow cone cups and yes, a few beer cans and wine bottles too. This party is a neighborhood tradition on our street and several adjoining ones dating back well beyond our 20 years in our house. The "young families" (now in our 40s and 50s) took over from the "older f

And the rest of the story...the Clint Black Concert

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If anyone doubts the power of social media to make connections, read on...   Many years ago, I had the chance to tour the White House with country music great Clint Black and a friend (read that story here ). An item on my bucket list has always been to see him perform again and maybe, just maybe, be able to meet him again. That chance materialized when he came to Florence to perform at the Francis Marion University Performing Arts Center. When I learned about the concert, I set out to make the right connections to meet him again and find out if he remembered that fun adventure at the White House with the same clarity that I did.  I figured that every day in my professional life I make connections using various communications tools to make a case. So maybe I could use those same strategies to make contact with Clint’s people and convince them I wasn’t some middle-aged crazed fan. I thought about the resources I had available to me to get my story to him… old photos,

Killin' Time until the Clint Black concert

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I have worked in, or around, politics for my entire career. For that reason, most of the "grip and grin" photos in my office are with politicians. While meeting and having photos with a president, congressmen, senators, heads of state from around the world, legislators and local officials were thrilling experiences, my secret vice is my collection of photos with country music stars.   So when I got to go to the White House with a country music star, I was over the moon. "Smartly dressed" in the White House press room My love of country music started with a high school friend. This was back in the late '70s when the first of the "new wave" of country singers was coming along on the heels of the greats like Willie Nelson and Waylon Jennings. I came to love Reba McEntire, Lyle Lovett and the Statler Brothers in college.   Later, as a young professional in Washington, I often had access to concert tickets and backstage passes thanks to

The Conundrum of Stitches versus Fabric

I've long since given up on formal New Year's resolutions, but each year I do try to affirm a few "ways of living" to keep me sane and forward thinking. This year I have tried to focus on knowing when to live in the moment, while at the same time, recognizing when it’s important to take in the big picture.  I recently read my favorite author's newest book - Anne Lamott's, “Stitches.” Not only does she write beautifully, but she also has an ability to look at life with humor, humility and perspective that resonate with me. Anne integrates the analogy of stitches throughout the book by suggesting you can miss the magic of the stitches in daily life if you are always looking at "the whole shebang," as she puts it. You can miss the beauty of the colors, shapes and imperfections of the stitches if you are always just looking at the design of the whole fabric. But I like taking that comparison a little further to try and balance focusing on the stitc

Guest blog...Because the Internet

(I'm pleased to introduce my first guest blogger, John Peters, my 15-year-old nephew who is a freshman at Porter-Gaud School in Charleston. This was a paper for his English class) George Orwell wrote about our destruction by things we hated like an oppressive government, but Aldous Huxley wrote about our destruction by things we loved like TV. If Huxley had written  his famous book  A Brave New World  sometime in the last decade or so, he definitely would have  included t he I nternet  in his criticisms. The Internet  has , for some,   created a  lifeline to other people that have the same interests or hobbies  but  would be otherwise unreachable . This is a very good thing most of the time, but it can sometimes  cause disconnect from the present.  The Internet has completely reformed the way its users and everyone around them go about their lives every day.   The Internet is used every day and affects everyone. It is a vast and infinite tool that can figure out almost anythi

A Dog Named Sam

I caught a flash of a rust colored fan of a dog tail darting between two herbie curbies as I drove home from my parents' house. My dog karma instinct immediately kicked in...it was a golden retriever who looked like a smaller version of our long-gone but much-loved Beaufort. I had to stop. I pulled out the dog biscuits I keep in my car console. As I opened the car door thinking I'd have to coax the dog to me, he bounded over. He had a collar and tags - good news. I found the tag. His name was Sam...the name of my childhood dog. He was friendly, even loving. He nuzzled my knee as I scratched his ears while I dialed the number on the tag. No answer. I left a message and debated next steps still just enjoying scratching Sam's ears while he nuzzled my knee like my golden retriever Dixie does every day. There’s just something peaceful about that nuzzling. Then, I'm knocked back to the moment. The phone rings and the owner identified Sam. The owner was jus

How Smoking a Pork Butt is Like Writing

My husband got a Green Egg grill for Christmas and smoked his first pork butt to make BBQ on it that weekend. As he worked on this hours-long process, it occurred to me how similar it is to my writing process. T o take a page from Stephen Covey, we both begin with the end in mind. My husband knows how he wants the BBQ to look, feel and taste. I know the story I want to tell. Getting to our individual ends involves some of the same lessons, compromises and processes. First  both writing and smoking a pork butt involve following some basic rules. When smoking a butt, the temperature has to be at a certain level to ensure food safety. There is no way to speed up the process. A lot of personal preference is involved relative to taste or doneness. Writing isn't all that different. You have to accept certain basic rules of grammar and usage to ensure the reader understands what you are trying to say. Writing will flow at its own pace…inspiration can't be rushed. Everyone writ