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Category: personal narrative

#SOL24-24 Fitness

Published on March 24, 2024 
It is Tuesday and time to write a 'Slice of Life." 
Thank you  Two Writing Teachers for creating this supportive community
of teacher-writers!

How much effort would it take to pop into my son’s home gym for a few minutes when we go to babysit our granddaughters, one or two days each week? Wouldn’t this be a great way to add strength training to our walking routine?

This was our goal. We honed in on it around the new year, when one is supposed to be amending their ways. We stated the goal aloud to our son, who echoed our thoughts about the importance of strength training as we age. Everyone agreed, this was a good idea.

There the new exercise routine sat, in our imagination. We took no further steps for many weeks.

Late February rolled around, and we still hadn’t started to work on this resolution. My son offered to give us a little coaching, to create a brief routine that we might complete in 15-20 minutes. We dropped by his house on a non-babysitting day and he showed us seven basic exercises – five of which do not require special equipment and we are able to do at our own home, with hand weights. He recommended two to three sessions each week. 

Sure!

Not. 

What keeps getting in the way? I don’t know. It is HARD to start new stuff. 

On our long drive home from vacation last week, Tony and I agreed to revisit the goal, to begin doing the exercises. Starting the very next day, we would do the five that required no special equipment, and practice these at home. 

Wait, what were these five exercises? 

That tomorrow became tomorrow’s tomorrow’s tomorrow. Finally, I said: Let’s start!! I opened up the notes I had taken on my phone and tried to decipher the exercises. Truthfully, too much time had passed; we no longer remembered what each exercise ‘looked’ like. How were we supposed to hold our bodies for each one? 

In lieu of working out, I decided to make a project of my notes: Using the terminology my son used when he coached us, I looked up each exercise on the internet. I read as much as I could find on each exercise, paying particular attention to suggestions and advice for how best to hold your body. Then, I drew diagrams of our body positions in a small notebook, to keep with our weights in the basement. 

(Do you see how ‘academic’ I am about procrastination, successfully avoiding the actual exercises with a creative diversion?)  

In my defense, I moved my body into position for each exercise so that I might understand directions and draw a better diagram (although I did not hold hand weights). These are silly images, I think – but I am a person who needs visuals and they do help me. Here’s one for “squats with weights”:

I shared my new visual guide with my son, who said “This is great, Mom! Good job!” (One of those exchanges when I feel we have flipped positions, he the parent, I the child…how much more of this awaits, as I age?) 

Then he looked at the guide and said – Mom, I never showed you this exercise, #2:

(Him) This is very advanced, done by bodybuilders. Did you try this? 

(Me) No, I just drew it. I was wondering why I didn’t remember it. It did seem challenging.

(Him) Here, let me show you the original exercise, which is really more of a stretch, something you can do any time of day, and will help you ease your aching feet and calves. It is great for knee health. Really, this is a good exercise for you. You do not need hand weights.

He demonstrated the stretch and I took photos, and then, of course, I had to draw it out and add it into our exercise booklet:

He proceeded to look through the rest of my drawings and descriptions, and made a couple minor corrections. The exercise drawings are all set now. Nothing prevents us working out!

I wonder, how often do I overthink? How often do I make the simple unnecessarily complicated? There is real wisdom in that old Nike ad: just do it. 

Tomorrow. 

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#SOL24-21 The Leak

Published on March 21, 2024 
It is Tuesday and time to write a 'Slice of Life." 
Thank you  Two Writing Teachers for creating this supportive community
of teacher-writers!

How to describe the sound? So quiet it overwhelms, and wakes you in the middle of the night. It is a strange kind of echo, the sound of water flowing, a ‘white noise,’ steady and resounding, and you will jump from bed to investigate. What is that?!

While we were away on vacation, our next door neighbors watched our home for us, collecting any stray packages from the doorstep and making sure that all was well while we traveled. We have great neighbors, and we do this for one another whenever one of us is out of town. We checked in with them a time or two by text, mostly to send a braggy photo or two of our fun travels. Then they texted back their dilemma: 

They heard the sound of water running, yet no sign of water. They searched upstairs and downstairs, turned on and off faucets, double-checked the laundry area: no surprise water anywhere. 

We texted back immediately, to double-check their words – Wait, your house or our house? Who has this problem?

Ours is the frightened response of people who have “been there, done that.” We knew exactly what the problem was: a pinhole leak in the water pipes to one’s home. You hear water running, flowing, gushing. You see nothing. It is eerie. 

Good news for us, it is their home that is having the problem. Bad news for them, we were right: pinhole leaks. And, unfortunately, their leak is causing such a severe flow of water, the WSSC cut off the water supply to their home. I feel so badly that they are having this dreaded experience. 

All the water pipes in our neighborhood are quite old. Most of the homes were built between 1935-1945, and the pipes are galvanized metal. These do not age well, rusting out and forming holes. Water gushes into the ground, invisible to the eye, only something one can hear. The pipes must be replaced, which is a labor intensive task requiring the digging of a deep trench. (Here’s a question – is it really an improvement that old galvanized pipes are replaced with some new thick polyvinyl? We all know the wonders of plastic in our water…but I digress.) 

If the leak is in the part of the pipe between your yard and the street, where the main water lines are, that’s a county problem and they must pay for the repair. However, if the leak is in your yard…ugh….

If only one home hears the water flowing, chances are close to excellent that the leak is in that one yard. 

Our education about pinhole leaks occurred right before my husband’s 50th birthday party, when we had tons of people coming to the house to celebrate. You could see the usage dial spinning on the water meter, yet there was no evidence of water leaking inside our home. Our water pressure deteriorated. We called WSSC with fingers crossed that this was a county issue, but that was not to be. The plumbers dug an enormous ditch through the front yard, in order to make the repair. The repair took several days, straddling the birthday party. On the bright side, we were able to keep our water on, in the house; I don’t know that we could have had a party without it. The yard, however, was a disaster. I remember the plumber put sawhorses around the cavernous trench, to keep children away, and I believe I added celebratory balloons to these, for a chuckle.

Our neighbors didn’t have the added hassle of a bunch of partygoers coming to the house, but they had the terrible timing of hosting a friend from Texas. Hosting company for several days and no running water? Oh my. 

One cannot function without water.

We didn’t hesitate; we insisted they take over our home while we were away – use the kitchen, take showers, collect water, run laundry, whatever you need. It is now a whole week later, we are back home, their guest is gone, and their repair has still not been made. The plumber cannot work on the fix until the county issues a permit, and there has been a delay in acquiring this. 

The neighbors are eating lots of takeout, filling big buckets with water from our hose to run their toilets, and keeping their spirits up as best they can; it is good that they don’t have young children underfoot, I think. We gave them a spare key to our basement, and insisted they come and go as they need. This area of our home was more or less ‘an apartment’ for our boys as they became young adults; there is a full bathroom down there, the laundry room, and a separate door to enter/exit. Our neighbors always send a text before coming over, though we insist there is no need for a heads up – our children never did this for us, lol!

In the early morning, one might notice someone ‘sneaking’ out of our home with a backpack of clothes over their shoulder, slipping across the driveway into their own back door.  

I wonder if other neighbors are wagging their tongues at the sight?

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#SOL24-20 Create

Published on March 20, 2024 
It is Tuesday and time to write a 'Slice of Life." 
Thank you  Two Writing Teachers for creating this supportive community
of teacher-writers!

It is morning and I am seated by the window, writing into the day. I remember small moments of yesterday, follow a random thought into something new, and toy with poetry. He is seated at the piano, nearby, in the front room, creating soft melodies. He delves into songs he once knew well, finding these in weathered music books, concentrates on matching his hand placement to the notes, and begins practicing. 

I love to write while he plays piano. There is something so soothing about the melodies he chooses, which are never intrusive to my thoughts, and simply alongside, freeing me. 

I took over this chair by the window when I retired from teaching in June 2020, in the midst of the pandemic. Writing, writing, writing. Puzzling over poetry prompts, remembering something from childhood and trying to tease it out, trying to write a story from start to finish. Playing with words. I am convinced that writing has saved me from the most anxious parts of myself. I am reminded of the indigenous parable of ‘the wolf you feed’  where there is a battle of good and evil within oneself. (I like this synopsis by the artist Aida Muluneh.) For me, the battle is between being calm, present, and clear-thinking, versus anxious, worried, and terrified about the world. My morning writing sets me up for a better day, one less ridden with anxiety. 

Tony, on the other hand, wakes up “doing.” He wakes up early, and gets going. He is always thinking about what needs fixing, what food we need to fetch at the grocery, who will be dropping by, and where we need to be at what time. First thing in the morning, he heads outside, to tinker in the garage or the yard. He might be up on a ladder, clearing the gutters of leaves and debris before the next storm, or digging up weeds along the front walk. He is a busy guy, and he keeps this house functioning, I am certain of it. I am so grateful for him. He finds what needs doing and he goes after it. 

He and I both noticed, with the exception of sitting and toying with the keys alongside our granddaughters, he was never playing the piano. 

He is also frustrated and anxious about this world and the direction it seems to be heading. We live in the Washington, D.C. suburbs, and we really have to work to NOT be immersed in all the ugly all the time. I think one big part of Tony’s getting caught up in small tasks is because he is stewing about the latest horrible news or worrying about a family member. Our efforts to make the world a better place seem so small and fruitless, and the problems so vast and daunting. 

He loves to play the piano, and he was putting it last on his list. 

So we set this fun new year’s intention: let’s both succumb to morning creative practice. A new routine was initiated: I write and he plays piano, and we strive for at least twenty minutes a morning, together but separate. On days when we are at home and we don’t have to babysit or rush out to an appointment, let’s put ‘play’ first, ahead of reading those headlines, ahead of all our to-do’s and worries. Some three months into the new year, our resolve to sit and play in our own fun creative way, is still going strong. We are often engaged in our pastimes for longer than the planned twenty minutes.

There seems to still be plenty of time to get to all our tasks.

It is amazing to me, to have time to play like this; I know it is a very precious gift of retirement. To spend time in such softness never felt possible during our careers, when morning meant the early morning alarm going off, rushing to get ready, to get the children ready, to get out, go, go, go. If I could turn back time, I’d do it differently, and make creative play a priority. Taking time to create is good for the mind, soul, and heart. 

Writing has become a daily prayer for me – how I seek solace, how I lament, how I amend my ways, and how I find hope. I think Tony’s piano playing is a similar release.

The granddaughters love to tinker with the piano, too.

—

Keeping on this theme, I wrote a poem, thanks to inspiration by Shelley Martin-Young on today’s OpenWrite poetry at Ethical ELA

Release

with each year of living
comes pain of witnessing

the young husband 
who disappears 
declaring the marriage over

the teenager
found on the floor in the basement 
drowning in addiction and depression

the mom 
who starves herself as she
descends into suicidal darkness

the father 
who admits 
his life has been one big lie

the legacy of straw households 
wobbly built on secrets 
and judgment 
and hurt

days of helplessness
trying to breathe
needing hope

put pen to paper and let 
myself spiral 
just for a moment
let go

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#SOL24-19 Independence

Published on March 19, 2024 
It is Tuesday and time to write a 'Slice of Life." 
Thank you  Two Writing Teachers for creating this supportive community
of teacher-writers!

Today, she made her own lunch.

Insisted on it. 

Determined.

She is three years old. 

Which simply means: 

She wants and knows and must. 

Everything. 

Always. 

She can do. 

One slice of potato bread

On a grown up plate

She leaned over the big jar

Dug deep and scooped

Strawberry jam

Dropping a spoonful on the bread

Working like an artist

Spread the sweetness

With a butter knife

Drawing into the corners

Meeting each edge

Concentrating

Next, the cream cheese

A second knife from the drawer

(Nana’s eyes widen – it is sharp!)

She scratched and fiddled

Lips pursed

Leaning into the gooey spread

Wanting it on her bread

One index finger helping

Holding the bread in place

Never giving up

Big sigh of success

Two hands fold

The bread together

Eyes twinkle 

Huge smile

She takes her first bite

Best. Sandwich. Ever.

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#SOL24-18 Alligator

Published on March 18, 2024 
It is Tuesday and time to write a 'Slice of Life." 
Thank you  Two Writing Teachers for creating this supportive community
of teacher-writers!

I use my arms as a long set of alligator teeth as Bird sails down the slide, and I pretend to bite her, singing 

Alligator, Alligator
I want to be your friend
I want to be your friend
I want to be your friend, too
[one final chomp, with bravado]

This child’s jingle always leads to laughter, as they evade my chomping. I am not sure which early childhood “mentor” teacher (is such silliness “mentoring”?) offered this earworm to me.

I have long wondered why one would be friends with an alligator.

What a scandalous idea to teach children, right?

Wanting to show my granddaughters a photo of a real alligator, I searched for “alligator” in my vacation photos. Google only recognized a sculpture of an alligator from someone’s backyard, taken more than a year ago.

Yet, I had taken several photos of alligators on our trip this past week to the Lowcountry, South Carolina. Where did these photos go? 

We came across several alligators. Bounteous alligators. Seriously, at least two dozen alligators, lazing about, as we meandered the island over the course of our week-long vacation. They are everywhere, these dark green mysterious dangerous beings. Everywhere you go, there are also warning signs, big bold letters about ALLIGATORS LIVE HERE and USE CAUTION. Here are the warnings:

- Assume every body of water contains an alligator
- Stay at least 60 feet (4 car lengths) away from alligators.
- Alligators are ambush predators and can move faster than you or your pets.
- Keep yourself, pets and children away from water’s edge.
- Swimming or wading is prohibited in Sea Pines’ waterways.
- Feeding or harassing alligators is dangerous and illegal.
- When fishing or crabbing do not throw used bait or fish parts into the water

I am a cautious person. I am often an obedient rule-follower. I am also curious, especially about nature. I do love to take photos when I am out and about. So I snuck a few photos, when we happened upon alligators. Obviously, very bad images from a scaredy-cat photographer, because Google didn’t even discern them as existing. Let me share them with you.

Here’s an alligator on our side of the bike path, as we turned the curve on our bikes:

Here, we saw several alligators lazing on the opposite side of a lagoon:

Here’s an alligator in the forest preserve (you can spot the warning sign, on the left):

My less-than-vivid photos show you that I was hasty, hesitant, and not hovering over alligators. The only way one can begin to discern an image is through editing the photo and zooming in. I think I will share the image of the alligator sculpture with my granddaughters, so that they might actually ‘see’ one. 

Yes, I was unnerved by these sightings. One hears and reads horrid stories about alligators attacking people. Terrifying! 

“They” say that alligators will eat anything. When their stomachs are cut open, after they die, there is evidence of trash and leaves and metal and bones and more.

Once, we heard a really loud splash as we studied a turtle at the forest preserve, and immediately wondered – wait, is there an alligator nearby? We hopped right back on our bikes, and bantered as we pedaled quickly away –

I heard their eyesight is limited. 

I heard you can’t tell if they are asleep or looking right at you. 

I heard they only run straight, so you should run or pedal away in a zigzag. 

I heard you should simply run faster than the people you are with. 

(This last advice from my witty brother.)

_______

Let me close with an alligator poem, my attempt at a playful Double Dactyl, inspired by Wendy Everard, in today’s Ethical ELA Open Write. 

Alligate-Alliwait 
Missus McGoo on bike
Slowing down taking pic
While full of fright

Step too close, pause too long
Irrecoverably
Alligate for the win 
Not pretty sight 
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#SOL24-16 Sunrise

Published on March 16, 2024 
It is Tuesday and time to write a 'Slice of Life." 
Thank you  Two Writing Teachers for creating this supportive community
of teacher-writers!
sky before dawn

We spoke not a word as we fumbled in the dark, searching for our sweatshirts and our shoes, and trying our best not to disturb their sleeping. The door creaked when we opened it, and we slipped out and closed the door behind us as quietly as possible. We walked down the unlit stairs, making our way in the grey, to the winding path. Trees loomed like benevolent spirits with their loose-fitting Spanish moss dancing in the early morning breeze. Carolina Wren and Carolina Chickadee provided the soundtrack to our spontaneous pursuit of watching the sunrise on the beach. 

The young girl’s reed hut stood strong in the dark of dawn. She had spent the whole afternoon working on this, patiently searching for reeds in the sand, separating the lengthy and straight ones, adding these one by one to create her tiny home. I had thought the tides would sweep this away, yet here it is, greeting us on the beach.

there’s a straw hut shadowed in the forefront

I saw immediately that we were not alone in the quiet, and I admit to feeling a bit of frustration. Who were all these folks, walking and waiting, just like us, along the beach? They walked in singles and pairs, perhaps two dozen folks in all. Their dogs raced with joy across the sand. There was a threesome of young athletes, performing jumping jacks, high knees, twists, skipping, and waving their arms high.

I wanted these strangers to leave
to leave the sunrise for me 
yet why do I presume to be
overseer 
of the sunrise?

Is it somehow more mine simply because it is my first time all week getting out of bed early enough to witness it? There is more than enough for all of us. There is so much joy in the viewing.

In a touch of irony, one dog walker calls out to me – “I took a lovely photo of you two in the early morning light, would you like it?” 

Her photo was a gift, and a gentle reminder to be kind. 

The stranger gave us this photo, showing the two of us together at sunrise.

We continued our walking, towards the sunrise, slowly, slowly, slowly.

It was magnificent. 

I suppose if one watched the sunrise each and every morning, they might say this one was average. An overcast start to the day obscured the sun, and it was a full half hour after the forecasted sunrise time before the clouds released the sun to us. However, as our only sunrise of the week (thank you, last weekend’s time change), it was absolutely glorious to us.

Here is a close up of that young girl’s straw hut, in better light:

rippling 

light isn’t always boisterous
bright front and center
sometimes it is a quiet offering
wavering shyly along the margins
slow to comprehend
look to the edges for light
gift a stranger a sliver
one last glimpse of sunrise, as we return home
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#SOL24-15 Celebrate

Published on March 15, 2024 
It is Tuesday and time to write a 'Slice of Life." 
Thank you  Two Writing Teachers for creating this supportive community
of teacher-writers!

We had two fun ‘dinners out’ this week at the beach, celebrating special events, and both of these came with surprises. 

First up was my brother’s birthday. We enjoyed delicious Italian food at Stellini’s, a restaurant that was pleasantly filled with locals rather than tourists. The special surprise: watching raccoons invade the bird feeder out in the back of the restaurant. There were half a dozen of these little friends, taking turns, going  up and down the tree to get to this food. The waitress told us that they were now regularly feeding the raccoons, because everyone found it so entertaining to watch. I’m not entirely sure how I feel about feeding wildlife, but who says only humans should eat well? Here’s a photo (it was dark outside; I hope you can make out the image):

The second celebration of the week was Tony’s and my anniversary, 36 years of marriage. We were excited to try Ruan Thai restaurant, and the food was delicious. My sister-in-law called ahead to reserve a table for four, adding “we’re celebrating a wedding anniversary.” We walked in and discovered roses on our table, heart-shaped balloons on the booth, and a handwritten note, “Happy Anniversary! May your love continue to grow stronger every year.” How sweet is that?  All four of us were taken aback by this joyful surprise. Here’s Tony and I, and the special decorations:

Two special celebrations, two fun surprises, TWO-RRIFIC!

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#SOL24-14 Wonder

Published on March 14, 2024 
It is Tuesday and time to write a 'Slice of Life." 
Thank you  Two Writing Teachers for creating this supportive community
of teacher-writers!

If you and I were home, sipping tea, talking about favorite places to be, I’d assure you I love the mountains. I’d say, put me in the woods, let me hike and climb. The mountains are filled with such beauty and wonder. Yes, mountains are my most favorite place.  

But, hey, how can I deny the sea? I may not be a sunbather, but there really is no such thing as a bad day at the beach. It is glorious to walk alongside, and to be amazed. 

This old photo shows I have always loved being at the ocean, too. 

I’ve been writing a poem a day in 2024, and vacation doesn’t give me a pass. Today’s poem celebrates the wondrous sights of our beach vacation.

Hilton Head Island 

Low Tide mingles with New Moon 
Rippling waves begin to dance
Alligators sun at the lagoon
Osprey hides on a branch

Slender Fish jumps high with glee
Driftwood floats slowly along
Great Heron glides just beneath
Yellow Warbler creates a song

Shorebirds gather on found wood
Dolphins play hide and seek 
How still Snowy Egret stood
As we laze upon the beach

#SOL24-13 Strands

Published on March 13, 2024 
It is Tuesday and time to write a 'Slice of Life." 
Thank you  Two Writing Teachers for creating this supportive community
of teacher-writers!

When my granddaughters play with Mardi Gras beads, the necklaces invariably get all tangled up together, into one big mash up of colorful plastic, where it is nearly impossible to find a beginning string or a way to separate them. The girls always bring the mess to me and sit right at my elbow as I struggle. There is no right way to approach the glob; any strand can be pulled out, in any order. When order is resumed, it is often mere minutes before the girls have tangled them up again. I’ve wondered if maybe this is the point of the girls’ play, to purposefully tie these chains up into each other, just to watch me fuss, taking them apart. 

Yes, I hid the necklaces in a cabinet after one long morning of this “fun” recently.

Where to begin a short introductory story on Hilton Head Island and me? My many memories and reflections are similar to that knot of beads. I’m here and I’m lost in thought, trying to tease things apart. 

Should I tell you how I first visited here when I was in grad school at the University of South Carolina, how my grandmother’s cousin had bought a home here on the ‘old, established’ part of the island, and she welcomed me for a weekend? I remember feeling so out of place, in this quiet, secluded, beautiful beach location. It felt far too fancy for me. 

Is there a necklace strand for before the island’s development? What is the history of this place? Who were the indigenous peoples? Who were the Black slaves who worked the plantations?

There’s now a strand for the Gullah people, buried in the cemetery we happened upon, that I wrote about yesterday. 

There’s another strand of necklace, with my parents retiring here, buying that cousin’s home, when she and her husband needed to move into assisted-living in their frail, elderly years. My parents had many happy years here, far from all five of their children/families, enjoying their independence and the beauty of this island. 

Tony and I did make many happy spring break trips here with the boys, over the years.

Notice the strand, always present, of how uncomfortable I was that the community was “gated,” only for owners and their guests, and almost everyone was white.

There’s a strand where my parents encounter their own health crises, how Mom aged into dementia and Dad into Parkinson’s, a ten year period where we ‘kids’ made countless depressing trips to offer additional care. I lived closest to them, some ten hours north. Finally, my parents moved into assisted-living near my brother, in Maine. Oh, and then we had the ugly task of clearing out their home here and putting it up for sale, leaving us all a good bit soured on ‘life on the island.’

This week’s vacation features a strand where we pedaled by my parents’ old home and it’s been completely transformed and is now a rental property that we cannot afford to lease. All the beautiful landscaping that my father tended daily – well, that has been eliminated and replaced by a pool. 

When our vacation week ends, I wonder if all these melancholy musings will be back up on a shelf, like those Mardi Gras necklaces.

starfish stranded
weeping for its ocean home
died alone
while all the tourists oohed and aahed
at their find
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#SOL24-12 Cemetery

Published on March 12, 2024 
It is Tuesday and time to write a 'Slice of Life." 
Thank you  Two Writing Teachers for creating this supportive community
of teacher-writers!

We are having an amazing trip to the beach, here in Hilton Head, South Carolina, enjoying long walks on the beach and easy bike rides along the leisure trails. Everything is so picture perfect. 

Until I look a little closer.

Along the ocean’s bend 
a cemetery 
surrounded by condos and 
a golf course. 

Let me say that again.

A weathered old cemetery 
loved ones buried before
the Civil War
now 
consumed by
covered by
no, smothered by 
real estate money making vacation 
homes and fairways. 

A handful of headstones.
An historical marker: 

Braddock Point Cemetery

A Gullah cemetery.

Here’s a quote from that same website:

Located in Harbour Town, this small cemetery is the final resting place of the Chisolm and Williams families, descendants of enslaved West Africans who toiled on Braddock’s Point Plantation.

https://www.hiltonhead.com/sacred-cemeteries-in-sea-pines/

To see this juxtaposition, these solemn graves with the commercial giddy vibrance of everything else in sight, I can’t find the right words. I am absolutely appalled. 

Please tell me how this came to be. Who signed off on this development? How is this not a high crime by some public official? A white collar crime by developers? Was anyone arrested for such disrespect? Around what conference table did the soulless make the decision to build here, exactly here? 

Did ANYONE protest? Was it even debated? Did ANYONE speak up and say “I don’t think this is a good idea.”? 

Truly, 
a sickening image of capitalism, 
of white supremacy, 
of I will do what I want to do, and 
you and your loved ones do not matter at all.

The cemetery continues to be maintained by descendents of the buried. This feels beautiful and right to me. Of course, the descendents had to fight for this privilege. They had to fight for the historical marker. They had to fight for the right to continue coming to this now gated part of the island to tend to the graves, to pray and remember. I wonder if they have to pay the $9 entrance fee at the gate, each time they visit? 

We’ll be learning more about Gullah history on the island in the days to come. According to my initial research, over 100 people were buried here; less than 40 gravesites remain. 

Here’s a 2023 article from the New York Times about Black cemeteries and the quest to preserve them, with this quote:

Washington provides little help. Late last year, Congress passed the African American Burial Grounds Preservation Act, which authorized $3 million for competitive grants to identify, research and preserve Black cemeteries. Congress has yet to appropriate even that.

New York Times, https://www.nytimes.com/2023/09/27/us/black-cemeteries.html
condos swallow slave graves
 body soul spirit cannot be erased
families hold in loving homage
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