Pee Dee Region

Small Towns of the Pee Dee:

Marion, Mullins, Lakeview, Fork, Dillon, Latta, Green Sea and even Loris. There may be more but these are the towns and crossroads we visited during our recent stay at Little Pee Dee State Park in South Carolina.
The state park is a little green gem with the added sparkle of Norton Lake plunked on it’s eastern border. The lake formed by a small dam along the Little Pee Dee. A perfect example of a coastal plain woodland with tall pines, pin oaks, cypress, star maples, dogwoods, and assorted hard woods all draped with Spanish Moss and Kudzu vine. In late spring the forest enchants with fresh green leaves and sunlight dappling about.
The upper branches are full of Scarlet Tanagers, Carolina Blue Birds, Nuthatches of every variety, Pilieated Woodpeckers, and the occasional humming bird. I am fairly certain that I heard a lonely whip-r-will the other day just at dusk, did not know they inhabited this part of the earth, I could be wrong. The heat of the day is punctuated by the barking of four Canadian Geese. We have been told that one Goose lives a solitary life here year round and the other three summer here. Apparently, there is no love lost between the two dominant males. I have witnessed their dances of doom several times. My money is on the home Goose.
Other wild-life of note: Broad Head skinks, I have never seen these before. They seem to be more social than the five-banded skink I am used too. The Broad Heads observe me long enough that I am able to take many photos of their pretty red heads and snake like bodies. Painted Turtles of all sizes sun themselves on the floating lily pad islands abundant in Lake Norman. A few sharp nosed snapping turtles, dubbed locally by one little Latta native as an Alley Gatoo turtle. This same 4 year old, claims the deep throated raspy bark at sunset belongs to the Hawg Frawg. I may have identified a new species of frog, nothing as interesting as the new Hyalinobatrachium dinae or Kermit the frog, but I cannot find it on a google search. Soo, I maybe famous soon, stay tuned. My mom and I sat on a bench at water’s edge and watched a black water snake saunter along the bank in the water. He meandered back an hour later. I cursed my luck at not bringing my camera.
At the recommendation of our park ranger, we went to a lovely place called Webster Manor in Mullins. A home built in 1905, turned boarding house/restaurant in 1947. It closed for a period from the 1970’s to 1986. At which time the current owners reopened as a bed and breakfast and lunch buffet. If you love southern cooking you will find this place a bit of heaven on earth. The highlights include tender turnip greens, cornbread dressing, divine pan gravy, sweet potato souffle, snap beans, and banana pudding.
We also discovered the Tobacco Museum in Mullins. Housed in the old train depot, once a thriving shipping post for cotton, rice and tobacco, traditional South Carolina crops. The depot is a perfect backdrop for the well curated artifacts of tobacco during it’s hey day. Replica plants are displayed at varying stages of growth along with the hazards each stage faced before harvest. Extensive cigarette and cigar commercial packages are on display. I found several items I remembered from my own home. A ceramic camel cigarette dispenser and a loose tobacco canister surrounded by a pipe stand. The curator was an odd little man, who took his job seriously. He is from a long line of tobacco growers and smokers and took pride in telling about each item. A piano from the home of a well-known tobacco farmer pre-civil war is housed in the museum. It boasts several signs to refrain from touching or playing. At one point a member of our tour group’s cell phone began playing Brahm’s. I being the only one standing near the piano received a severe reprimand not to play the piano…there are signs! Funny, because I wouldn’t know the first thing about playing Brahm’s, Heart and Soul maybe, but definitely not Brahm’s! Aside from this he was most knowledgeable.
In Nichols we discoverd the Bubba Redneck Museum. A haphazard collection of redneck stuff. A piano was on display here as well, but I don’t think they really cared if you played it. Mason jars, fishing poles and fancy lures, wooden crates and enamel basins dominated the displays. Lots and lots of hats and wooden Coca Cola crates. No curator, just a self guided opportunity to browse snuff boxes, tin cans and old pocket knives. The center of the museum did house an old screen door opening into an air-conditioned room with bait and tackle of every sort for sale. It also boasted an old Coke ice -chest filled with bottles of Coke for 50 cents. I did not see any Moon Pies, so I was slightly disappointed.
Marion has the Walmart, Food Lion and Piggly Wiggly. Lake View has bagged ice at one gas station for $1.29 per 10lb bag ( we pay 2.50 to 4.00 near the beach). Fork has a stop sign. Nichols has a post office with odd hours. Green Sea has a big football high school, Green Sea Floyds, and lots of horses. Everyone says Latta has the best school system. Loris is home to the Chicken Bog Off Festival in October, we will try to make that. We went once years ago, Little Big Town was the headline band and it was free, if that tells you anything. Chicken Bog will be the subject of another post.
If you are passing through in your RV between the coast of South Carolina and anywhere in Central and Western North Carolina, think about spending a day or two at Little Pee Dee State Park. I think sites 21 and 22 are the best for 35 ft and under rigs. Every site is awesome for a tent. You big motor homes will find some great sites too, I just don’t know the numbers.

This World and One More

“What that boy done was the furtherest thing I could imagine. Lawd, Lawd, this world and one more.”

The eighth decade of her life finds her living alone for the first time.  Her fourth husband uncomfortably settled into the home a few weeks ago.  She welcomes the solitude and the little things like tossing out the plastic sheet under the dining room chair. His chair, the one where he ate his last home cooked catfish dinner. That last supper flits into her awareness, a prickle of loss nags. Still, replacing the recliner, headrest stained with years of vitalis softens the sharp edges of regret.  Theirs was no great love affair. An odd companionship to stave off both loneliness and financial hardship. And yet – you don’t live with someone for two and twenty years without some attachment of heart, good and bad.

The quiet house calms her twitchy nerves. She can eat when and what she wants. The volume on the console television set just for her ears. Windows wide open, or a little heat on according to her needs only.  A few weeks into this new found contentment she notices the yard needs mowing. The last storm  brought down a few tree limbs and the water pipes are shaking the house down. Her years have not been easy. Born poor, early tangles with pneumonia, bronchitis, and lack of health care, left her attached to supplemental oxygen around the clock.

Help arrives in the healthy form of one rakishly handsome nephew straight out of back country Georgia.  Actually, a grand-nephew, the youngest grandson of her niece.  He is sweet and makes quick work of the chores. He eats like a half-starved colt. This makes her happy, feeding people is one of her joys, especially people who know how to keep food on fork from plate to mouth, no plastic sheets necessary.
He enjoys watching the afternoon stories with her (General Hospital, One Life to Live, and All My Children). He also laughs along with Hee Haw and The Carol Burnett Show.  He takes her fishing. He fills her portable Oxygen tanks.  The least she can do is encourage and fund the occasional night out with his friends. The once a week night out does not worry her, he is always home by sun up and never complains of being tired.  She never meets his friends.

Six months pass. The police come after dinner and arrest him.  He and his friends have accepted payment from a man. In return they will shoot his wife.  The wife lives, they are caught and the nephew is sentenced to 13 years in the penitentiary.

My grandmother called to tell me the news. “What that boy done, was the furtherist thing I could imagine. Lawd, Lawd, this world and one more,” she said in shock, disbelief and sorrow.  Soon after, my mother moved in with her. Her peace was gone, but the chores were done.

*”This world and one more,” a phrase I heard often growing up in Georgia. I can’t seem to find a lot about the origins of this idiom. When I heard it, it often referred to amazement or sorrow over a thing that had just happened. Sometimes, it could be used to refer to an oddity, such as a calf born with two heads.  I think it must have some relation to the idea of an afterlife. If we can’t understand this life, how will ever understand the mystery of the next life? A Google search reveals that a Jazz band out of Chicago recorded an album of nine songs, the album title is “This World and One More.” I do not know if any of the band members have southern origins but I do find confirmation that my southern grandmother was not the only one to say this.