A Spark Burning 150 Years Later

Maybe St. Simons Island and the Golden Isles of Georgia have always called to me. I know the ocean is the echo of my soul, but maybe there's more to it than that. Perhaps it is this very place.

In 1989, the movie "Glory," starring Matthew Broderick, Denzel Washington, Morgan Freeman, Andre Braugher and Cary Elwes was released. I saw it because I have loved Denzel Washington since "Riccochet" and Morgan Freeman since he was Easy Reader on Electric Company. Of course, Matthew was Ferris Bueller and Cary was Westley. The Civil War-era story was fascinating to me: the 54th was regiment out of Boston made up of black soldiers who signed up to fight for the Union, and were led (initially, reluctantly) by a white aristocrat with strong family connections named James Gould Shaw. Their story, though tragic, was still incredibly insightful and inspiring. When people ask me what my favorite movies are (a tough question for a movie buff to answer), this one is always on the list.

The movie was filled with powerful and moving scenes, achingly honest portrayals (Denzel won an Best Supporting Actor Oscar for his role as Tripp, a NC farm slave turned soldier.), and scenery so gorgeous that I remember watching the end credits to see where they had filmed. I was thrilled to find out that one of those places was Old Sturbridge Village in Massachusetts: one of my favorite places to visit as a child, as well as Boston, Savannah, and some other places down South with unfamiliar names.  

One of those places happened to be Jekyll Island. When I moved to Georgia in 2006, and began visiting Jekyll and Savannah, I was excited to discover the locales where scenes in the movie had been shot. There's a "Glory Bridge" that was built on Jekyll to get camera equipment and the like to the filming location "Glory Beach."

Walking through Savannah for the first time, the picturesque weathered stone archways of the old roundhouse and surrounding areas immediately caught my attention, actually giving me chills. They remain one of my favorite architectural features in that beautiful town. When I saw the movie again after my visit, those arches are clearly visible and easily recognizable in the regiment's training scenes.

What took longer to sink in for me was the fact that this area wasn't just a filming location for a movie I loved; this is the actual location where many of those historical events took place. The town that the troops were ordered to burn was Darien...OUR Darien, that town up the road with the great tabby ruins on the water and Fort King George, where we've gone to watch colonial battle reenactments take place.

And so now, coincidentally, approximately 25 years after I first saw that movie that has always stuck with me, I sit at my home in the very location that Colonel Shaw and his troops were stationed on this date 150 years ago and am overwhelmed by this sense of historical connection. The 54th was here on St. Simons Island when they were ordered to proceed north with another colored regiment and burn the town of Darien. Twenty miles up the road, in that very place, today there is a reenactment and a history celebration marking that event. 

About five years ago, I read Shaw's account of that fateful day in "Blue-Eyed Child of Fortune: The Civil War Letters of Colonel Robert Gould Shaw," a book published by the University of Georgia Press, that I purchased (with a sense of irony not lost on me) in the gift shop at Fort King George in Darien. Here is the text from Shaw's letter to his wife about this island and those events:

A letter by Colonel Robert Gould Shaw
to his wife Annie about

The Raid at Darien, Georgia

St. Simons Island, Ga. [RGS]
Tuesday, June 9, 1863

My Dearest Annie,

We arrived at the southern point of this island at six this morning. I went ashore to report to Colonel [James] Montgomery, and was ordered to proceed with my regiment to a place called "Pike's Bluff," on the inner coast of the island, and encamp. We came up here in another steamer, the "Sentinel," as the "De Molay" is too large for the inner waters,—and took possession to-day of a plantation formerly owned by Mr. Gould. We have a very nice camping-ground for the regiment, and I have my quarters in "the house"; very pleasantly situated, and surrounded by fine large trees. The island is beautiful, as far as I have seen it. You would be enchanted with the scenery here; the foliage is wonderfully thick, and the trees covered with hanging moss, making beautiful avenues wherever there is a road or path; it is more like the tropics than anything I have seen. Mr. Butler King's plantation, where I first went ashore, must have been a beautiful place, and well kept. It is entirely neglected now, of course; and as the growth is very rapid, two years' neglect almost covers all traces of former care.

June 12th—If I could have gone on describing to you the beauties of this region, who knows but I might have made a fine addition to the literature of our age? But since I wrote the above, I have been looking at something very different.

On Wednesday, a steamboat appeared off our wharf, and Colonel Montgomery hailed me from the deck with, "How soon can you get ready to start on an expedition?" I said, "In half an hour," and it was not long before we were on board with eight companies, leaving two for camp-guard.

We steamed down by his camp, where two other steamers with five companies from his regiment, and two sections of Rhode Island artillery, joined us. A little below there we ran aground, and had to wait until midnight for flood-tide, when we got away once more.

At 8 A.M., we were at the mouth of the Altamaha River, and immediately made for Darien. We wound in and out through the creeks, twisting and turning continually, often heading in directly the opposite direction from that which we intended to go, and often running aground, thereby losing much time. Besides our three vessels, we were followed by the gunboat "Paul Jones."

On the way up, Montgomery threw several shells among the plantation buildings, in what seemed to me a very brutal way; for he didn't know how many women and children there might be.

About noon we came in sight of Darien, a beautiful little town. Our artillery peppered it a little, as we came up, and then our three boats made fast to the wharves, and we landed the troops. The town was deserted, with the exception of two white women and two negroes.

Montgomery ordered all the furniture and movable property to be taken on board the boats. This occupied some time; and after the town was pretty thoroughly disembowelled, he said to me, "I shall burn this town." He speaks always in a very low tone, and has quite a sweet smile when addressing you. I told him, "I did not want the responsibility of it," and he was only too happy to take it all on his shoulders; so the pretty little place was burnt to the ground, and not a shed remains standing; Montgomery firing the last buildings with his own hand. One of my companies assisted in it, because he ordered them out, and I had to obey. You must bear in mind, that not a shot had been fired at us from this place, and that there were evidently very few men left in it. All the inhabitants (principally women and children) had fled on our approach, and were no doubt watching the scene from a distance. Some of our grape-shot tore the skirt of one of the women whom I saw. Montgomery told her that her house and property should be spared; but it went down with the rest.

The reasons he gave me for destroying Darien were, that the Southerners must be made to feel that this was a real war, and that they were to be swept away by the hand of God, like the Jews of old. In theory it may seem all right to some, but when it comes to being made the instrument of the Lord's vengeance, I myself don't like it. Then he says, "We are outlawed, and therefore not bound by the rules of regular warfare" but that makes it none the less revolting to wreak our vengeance on the innocent and defenceless.

By the time we had finished this dirty piece of business, it was too dark to go far down the narrow river, where our boat sometimes touched both banks at once; so we lay at anchor until daylight, occasionally dropping a shell at a stray house. The "Paul Jones" fired a few guns as well as we.

I reached camp at about 2 P.M. to-day, after as abominable a job as I ever had a share in.

We found a mail waiting for us, and I received your dear letter, and several from Father, Mother, Effie, and some business correspondence. This is the first news we have had since our departure, and I rather regained my good spirits.

Now, dear Annie, remember not to breathe a word of what I have written about this raid, to any one out of our two families, for I have not yet made up my mind what I ought to do. Besides my own distaste for this barbarous sort of warfare, I am not sure that it will not harm very much the reputation of black troops and of those connected with them. For myself, I have gone through the war so far without dishonour, and I do not like to degenerate into a plunderer and robber,—and the same applies to every officer in my regiment. There was not a deed performed, from beginning to end, which required any pluck or courage. If we had fought for possession of the place, and it had been found necessary to hold or destroy it, or if the inhabitants had done anything which deserved such punishment, or if it were a place of refuge for the enemy, there might have been some reason for Montgomery's acting as he did; but as the case stands, I can't see any justification. If it were the order of our government to overrun the South with fire and sword, I might look at it in a different light; for then we should be carrying out what had been decided upon as a necessary policy. As the case stands, we are no better than "Semmes," who attacks and destroys defenceless vessels, and haven't even the poor excuse of gaining anything by it; for the property is of no use to us, excepting that we can now sit on chairs instead of camp-stools.

But all I complain of; is wanton destruction. After going through the hard campaigning and hard fighting in Virginia, this makes me very much ashamed of myself.

Montgomery, from what I have seen of him, is a conscientious man, and really believes what he says,—"that he is doing his duty to the best of his knowledge and ability."

...There are two courses only for me to pursue: to obey orders and say nothing; or to refuse to go on any more such expeditions, and be put under arrest, probably court-martialled, which is a serious thing.

June 13th.—This letter I am afraid will be behindhand, for a boat went to Hilton Head this morning from the lower end of the island, and I knew nothing about it. Colonel Montgomery has gone up himself; and will not be back until Tuesday probably.

...To-day I rode over to Pierce Butler's plantation. It is an immense place, and parts of it very beautiful. The house is small, and badly built, like almost all I have seen here. There are about ten of his slaves left there, all of them sixty or seventy years old. He sold three hundred slaves about three years ago.

I talked with some, whose children and grandchildren were sold then, and though they said that was a "weeping day," they maintained that "Massa Butler was a good massa," and they would give anything to see him again. When I told them I had known Miss Fanny, they looked very much pleased, and one named John wanted me to tell her I had seen him. They said all the house-servants had been taken inland by the overseer at the beginning of the war; and they asked if we couldn't get their children back to the island again. These were all born and bred on the place, and even selling away their families could not entirely efface their love for their master. Isn't it horrible to think of a man being able to treat such faithful creatures in such a manner?

The island is traversed from end to end by what they call a shell-road; which is hard and flat, excellent for driving. On each side there are either very large and overhanging trees, with thick underbrush, or open country covered with sago-palm, the sharp-pointed leaves making the country impassable. Occasionally we meet with a few fields of very poor grass; when there is no swamp, the soil is very sandy.

There are a good many of these oyster-shell roads, for in many places there are great beds of them, deposited nobody knows when, I suppose. The walls of many of the buildings are built of cement mixed with oyster-shells, which make it very durable.

I forgot to tell you that the negroes at Mr. Butler's remembered Mrs. Kemble very well, and said she was a very fine lady. They hadn't seen her since the young ladies were very small, they said. My visit there was very interesting and touching.

A deserted homestead is always a sad sight, but here in the South we must look a little deeper than the surface, and then we see that every such overgrown plantation, and empty house, is a harbinger of freedom to the slaves, and every lover of his country, even if he have no feeling for the slaves themselves, should rejoice.

Next to Mr. Butler's is the house of Mr. James E. Cooper. It must have been a lovely spot; the garden is well laid out, and the perfume of the flowers is delicious. The house is the finest on the island. The men from our gunboats have been there, and all the floors are strewed with books and magazines of every kind. There is no furniture in any of these houses.

Please send this to Father, for I want him and Mother to read it, and I don't care about writing it over.

Colonel Montgomery's original plan, on this last expedition, was to land about fifteen miles above Darien, and march down on two different roads to the town, taking all the negroes to be found, and burning every planter's house on the passage. I should have commanded our detachment, in that case. The above are the orders he gave me.

Good bye for to-day, dearest Annie.

Your loving Rob

I didn't start out the day with any intention of writing an essay or making more than a passing comment about the commemoration of The Burning of Darien, but a spark of inspiration caught flame (pun initially unintended) and I had some free time. So here I am...reflecting on other times, both in my life, and long before, while taking in the same beautiful surroundings so eloquently described by the young colonel from another state that I too called home as a child. A century and a half may separate our words but an inexplicable sense of connection through this place remains. It all makes me wonder about those forces in the Universe that are so much bigger than I will ever understand. 

At the Beach...

"At the beach, life is different. Time doesn't move hour to hour but mood to moment. We live by the currents, plan by the tides and follow the Sun" 


This quote was posted by a friend of mine this morning. It was one I knew I'd seen before, and it resonates so deeply with me. Living by the currents and following the sun is truly how my life can be defined. And today, rather than flooding you with words, I instead invite you to join me on the beach. Listen to the sound of the waves. Smell the salt air. Feel the cool sand under your toes. 

Even a virtual walk near the ocean can be good for your soul. 

A Gentle Nudge

So I started this daily blog and commitment to walk on the beach every day and you see how well that's worked out for me. First I ran into technical difficulties with internet, inability to upload. Then I began to reevaluate my method of blogging: Blogger, Tumblr, WordPress... Then Ron Burgundy came to town and the movie crew invaded my beach. Then it rained...and rained...and rained some more.

Yeah...so I stopped going to the beach and I stopped writing blog entries too. I've let being busy with work become my excuse. Lame. 

Tonight, I got to spend some time with Carrie, a woman I consider to be intelligent, creative, fun, and just plain cool. She is part-owner of Vixen Vodka, a new and exciting brand that employs the idea of empowering and celebrating women to market their product. I think it's brilliant and am doing whatever I can to help spread the Vixen gospel. Last time Carrie was in town she said that reading this blog inspired her to get out and walk on the beach, despite damp and chilly weather. If I could do it, so could she...no excuses. 

Carrie told me tonight that while she was out on the beach today it had occurred to her that she hadn't seen me posting my daily blog. I nodded guiltily and told her about these ridiculously minor things that had so easily thrown me off my track. I had started the blog with the premise of no excuses but here I am now making them. Ugh! I thanked her for the guilt trip that would prod me into resuming the blog. She laughed and told me that it wasn't a guilt trip, that she was being a mother hen and just giving me a little nudge.

Thank you, Carrie, for the nudge. Tonight I write. Tomorrow I will take my coffee and enjoy a morning walk on the beach. I am thankful for friends who support and encourage and refuse to accept the silly excuses I make to myself. People who want you to be the best that you can be and to do the best that you can do are the very best people of all.

Full Moon Madness

One week every month my world suddenly turns bizarre. People around me act a bit strange and even more craziness tends to pop up from out of nowhere. I feel restless and strangely discontented. And, more often than not, I have a horrible time sleeping. It wasn't until recently that I figured out that this odd recurring pattern of behaviors always takes place during the week of the full moon. 

This is that week. 

That's all I've got to say. 

Change of Plans

Today I decided that I'd pick up a picnic supper and then go get Declan and take him to the beach since it was such a pretty afternoon/evening. I knew that it might be a chore to convince him to do this because my boy does not love walks on the beach as much as I do, and would much rather be sitting somewhere playing Minecraft--something I can't even pretend to understand. Once he's at the beach he enjoys it, he just balks when I tell him that's where we're going. Being the resourceful woman that I am, I figured I'd grab a cookies and cream shake from Chick-fil-A to make it a more attractive option. So...there it was: a plan. A kind of impromptu plan, but a plan nonetheless.

And, as it goes when I plan things...my ex called to see if he could pick Declan up and take him out to dinner. Of course, I am always willing to let him have whatever time he wants with the kiddo, so I decided to meet him in the Village and let them go have dinner while I hung out at the pier and down by the park. It was high tide, so there would be no walking on the beach, but I could still sit in the sun, watch the waves, and hear the ocean. A happy compromise.

The moon will be full in a couple days, so it was already starting to look magnificent as it rose tonight. Catching the sunset over the water is always special for me, so that was just an added treat. All in all, despite the change of plans, it was a very good night.

The moral of the story: a change in plans doesn't have to be a bad thing. Adapt and adjust in a positive way instead of succumbing to disappointment. You may even catch some special moments you might not have otherwise had. Here's what I managed to capture:

Simple Magic

Somehow in the past year, I managed to fall in love. It was completely unexpected and carried with it a touch of nostalgia for days past that I never even realized I had. It was simple, elemental, and I found myself drawn to it more and more. Yet, while I harbored this deep affection and opening longing, I hadn't really fully indulged my desire.

Until yesterday.  And it turned out even better than I'd expected.

You see, not only did I buy the mason jars I've been coveting, I found vintage blue "Perfect Mason" jars issued by Ball as part of a special edition "American Heritage" collection. They are gorgeous!

That's right . . . mason jars. I love 'em. They carry so many memories with them: my grandmother's homemade bread and butter pickles, painting, picnics, childhood days playing in the cellar, summertime, margaritas at Bubba's, and so very much more. Mason jars hold as much magic for me today as they did when they sat on my nightstand with lightning bugs flickering inside. I want to use them as drinking glasses, flower vases, candle holders, and in any other manner that I can imagine or find on Pinterest. The Waterford crystal sitting in my cabinet doesn't enchant me nearly as much as these simple glass jars.

Silly? Maybe. But I could use a little bit of magic in my life. Couldn't we all?!

Keep Smiling

If any of you have followed my Loving the Island Life blog, you know that I'm all about the power of positivity. That blog was initially started to catalog the things I find to smile about each and every day. I discovered no shortage of reasons to smile, but I had a horrible time sitting down to write and post daily. So, because I'm no quitter, I'm trying again. 

This time, anything goes. Whether it's just a couple words and some pictures from my trip to the beach or opening up and putting my heart on the page or an amusing anecdote from the day's events, I'm just endeavoring to write every single day. Today's thoughts come from my horoscope and some words I've heard this week. 

When I pulled up my horoscope to see what The Universe says is in store for Leos today, this is what it read:

LEO Apr, 21, 2013
It is hard to put a smile on your face when you are feeling badly - especially when your mood is caused by the way someone is treating you or oppressing you. But that's exactly when you need to smile the most... when you need to remain positive and upbeat and motivated to be happy. If you are dealing with a worrisome situation now, Leo, put a big, bold smile on your face, and fake it until you make it, because you will make it. You will rise above, you will prove your mettle, and you will thrive.

Earlier this week, I was introduced to a woman and she looked at me and said, "I'm sure we've met somewhere before. I remember your smile." What a compliment! (Especially when I know it's not due to perfect pearly whites or cosmetic enhancement.) It tells me that I can make an impression with just a smile and sunny disposition. This holds true for us all and is something we should remember as we approach each day. Attitude really is everything. 

This morning's reminder from The Universe to keep smiling is an affirmation of what I aspire to do no matter what is going on in my day to day life. And for me that doesn't mean slapping on a grin so people think I'm happy, it means actually being happy. It means staying positive despite frustration or adversity. I do my best to maintain perspective and be grateful for what I have in my life. Admittedly, sometimes I fail, but I always come back to the reality of the fact that my son and I are lucky enough to live on an island in the sun. I love this community and what I do in it, and I have wonderful friends. Life is good. So the smile you see on my face is genuine and it comes easily.

Not only does staying positive improve your outlook on the day, it can also shine the light of hope that someone else needs to find their way out of the darkness or to spark the flame of inspiration. There's a saying, "Be strong. You never know who you're inspiring." Being upbeat and positive despite the curveballs that life throws at you is a way of being strong.

So whether it takes a good song, a look at a picture, a goofy joke, an uplifting chat with a friend, or even a walk on the beach to get you in a happy frame of mind, find your smile and share it freely. It can make a world of difference.

If you need a smile to get you started, here's mine...

A Hand to Hold

Yesterday morning, my heart skipped a beat. Fingers interlaced with mine and clung tightly while another hand reached over to squeeze my wrist just for a second. I looked down at where my son's fingers alternated with my own and saw the loving smile on his freckled face as he let go of my wrist but still clasped his hand together with mine and thought to myself, "That is the best feeling in the world."

You see, my son is ten years old. We were in the hallway walking toward his classroom before school. There were kids and teachers everywhere. I love that he isn't the slightest bit embarrassed or self-conscious about holding my hand and giving me a kiss goodbye when I leave. I know this will change, and probably in the very near future, as his teen years are swiftly approaching, but right now I cherish this voluntary and uninhibited closeness. That tight grasp that comes so easily and naturally to him speaks right to my heart. 

That flood of emotion got me thinking about the simple gesture of holding hands. God, it's powerful! That most basic form of physical connection and shared affection. It can hold comfort, security, solidarity, hope, forgiveness, promise...in a way that nothing else does. 

Maybe I'm just a sentimental fool, but pop music through the years supports me in this. The Beatles sang about holding hands making you "feel happy inside" in "I Wanna Hold Your Hand." And when he was still known as "Hootie," Darius Rucker issued an invitation to a shared life in "Hold My Hand." So, I'm pretty sure it's not just me who thinks holding hands is pretty special. 

Horrific events like the bomb attacks at the Boston Marathon wound my heart and leave me shaken to the core. And I confess that what I long for most in hours of confusion, frustration, and despair is a hand to hold--a touch that assures me that someone else shares my pain and is there through it all. 

I know that for some it's a simple, casual gesture that may not hold any meaning at all, but I believe that the ability to hold the hand of a child, a parent, a lover, or even a friend, is something precious. It's a connection that some people never have. Treasure it when you do. 

No Excuses

One of the best things about living on a little island in Southeast Georgia is the ability to go to the beach. Another wonderful thing is the moderate weather. Today, when some of my friends in the northern Midwest states got snow, I had an overcast and drizzly morning, but temps in the 70's. Our community pool will open in 2 weeks and there's no doubt that we'll be ready to head there on the weekends to bask in the sun. Yesterday, I read a blog from a travel writer about how lucky the local residents are to live here. She's absolutely right. 

The sound of the ocean, the smell of the salt marsh, the kiss of the sea breeze on my skin, and the feel of my toes in the sand are the very essence of my soul. The beach is where I go to find my balance. When I get too far into my head, I need the vastness of the ocean to remind me that there is something so much greater than I am out there. The ebb and flow of the tide assures me of life's steady rhythm. The sparkle of the sun and the reflection of the moon on the rippling surface are pure magic to me. 

But even when I live only minutes away from the beach and know that I need that calming force in my life, I still have not made the effort to make sure I am there to walk in the sand and dip my toes in the surf every day. I have other things to do. I'm too busy. It's cold, overcast or raining. No. These are just excuses. I can make the time. I can wear a sweatshirt. I'm not going to melt. 

So, today, while I sat and watched the waves roll to shore, I decided I will find at least one hour each day to spend at the beach. At some point during the day, whether a morning walk, an after-dinner stroll with the kiddo and some ice cream, or a bag lunch with "my ass in the sand," (Thank you, Zac Brown.) I am not going to take for granted what I have right here in my backyard. I am so fortunate to be able to live here and I don't want to forget that. Life is short and I need to enjoy and appreciate what I have each and every day. Simple as that.

And as I made this resolution of sorts with myself this morning, I also considered my abysmal attempts to post a daily blog. I can be better at that too. My beach time can also be my blog time. My beach walks are times of reflection. Why not catalog those thoughts? Random musings, introspection, deep reflection. No agenda. No theme. Surely there will be something suitable to put on a page each day. And so this is the beginning... 

If you'd like to join me, c'mon along and read my ramblings. At the very least, I'll share some pretty pictures and you might get a chuckle or two. 

(If you want to see more of the world I see through my iPhone lens, you can follow me on Instagram: kathissi.)