THE BRUNSWICICfeRACON
Edward M. Sweatt and Carolyn H. Sweatt Publishers
Edward M. Sweatt IZdltor
Susan Usher News Editor
Rahn Adams & Doug Rutter Stajf Writers
Johnny Craig Sports Editor
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Carolyn H. Sweatt Advertising Director
Sue Barefoot & Ttmberley Adams Advertising Representatives
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PAGE 4-A ? WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 22, 1989
Thanksgiving, 1 989
Thanksgiving is the most American of our holidays. The
first Ne'w England day of thanks for a harvest was probably in
1621, observed by order of Governor Bradford of
Massachusetts.
Colonialists reportedly went out into the woods and shot
several turkeys. The indians entered the settlement with sever
al deer. The settlers and Indians feasted together.
The first Thanksgiving Proclamation issued by a
President came in 1789, a thanksgiving for the adoption of the
Constitution.
As a national holiday and religious observance,
Thanksgiving probably dates from 1863, when Abraham
Lincoln-acting on the suggestion of Mrs. Sarah J. Hale-issued
a Thanksgiving Proclamation.
Since that time, the observance has been adopted in all
the states of the Union.
We in the United States have special reasons for thanks
giving in 1989. It comes at a time when democracy is winning
out over much of the world, and when the danger of nuclear
war is being greatly reduced.
Unload The Baggage;
Set Yourself Free
I was almost 30 years old before I could say out loud to anyone outside
ihe family that one ot my parents had been an alcoholic. And until a few
days ago, there wouldn't have been
hometown newspaper. For one
thing, that's not the kind of the
thing you routinely volunteer; and
second, I didn't really think it made
a difference. Everybody has prob
lems, that doesn't make them di
fferent, right?
That was before 1 helped put
together a conference on Women
and Alcoholism with a woman
named Jamie Norton, who later
went on to lead a state organization
for ACoAs, as we're called. Adult Children of Alcoholics. At that
conference I began learning thai there were other people out there like me,
deadly serious about themselves and everything else, alternating between
being ultra-responsible or running away, overly-controlling, unable to get a
long-term project off the table, always overreacting. The list varies from
person to person but it goes on and on.
Alcoholism and cancer had always been my greatest fears. My dad
died as a result of the one disease; my mom, the other. The odds seemed
pretty good thai one or more of us girls would either become an alcoholic,
marry one, or end up with cancer of some kind. Maybe two out of three.
But it doesn't have to be, because we've all three learned to deal with
these things in our own way, in our own time.
It hasn't always seemed so straightforward.
As the youngest in a family of three girls, I have fewer memories than
either of my sisters of my father sober and healthy, and less sense of what a
close family life might be in the traditional sense. All of my life it seemed I
alternated between disappearing between the covers of a book or the limbs
of a tree in McMilly Swamp, and doing whatever it took (good or bad) to
gain the family's or somebody else's full attention. Poor Mom!
I didn't really know how to be a friend and sabotaged most
relationships pretty early; subconsciously I guess that was one way to
make sure other people didn't have a chance to hurt me.
Hurt and pain were something we knew about first hand, no matter
how hard she tried to keep it otherwise. We loved each other but still there
was the constant tension of nerves on edge, people functioning at their
limits. And there was violence. We learned it from each other, physical and
emotional/verbal abuse. We used it as both weapon and defense.
One of my earliest images is peeking through the bedroom door into
the living room and seeing my father, in a drunken rage, taking his belt to
one of my sisters until a trickle of blood ran down her leg. I don't know if
she remembers it or not; it's the kind of thing you try to forget. I was three
years old and won't ever forget it; I swore at the time he would never do
that to me, and he didn't. He died when I was 12.
It wasn't but about a year later when Mama found out she had cancer.
She died when I was 18. All that means is that I know what it's like to
grow up in a home that doesn't work like the ones you used to read about
in books, a home where children do adult things and have no one to share
their feelings with except the family dog.
I'm learning to let go of much of the baggage I've dragged around all
these years ? the anger, the sense of having been victim as well as cause.
I'm still a ways from the calm I know can come by taking each day as it
comes, but I'm on the road and liking the trip a lot.
Others who have lived in the type households that evolve from
alcoholism, abusive relationships, chronic illness, can break free also.
Knowledge gives us the power to change ourselves. Once you confront
something and learn all you can about what happened in the past and what
can happen as a result, why then you're on the way to healing. ..and
freedom!
Without that, I could never have married and have that marriage
succeed, because I could never have trusted another person to the degree
that this or any other intimate relationship, such as close friendship,
requires.
For those of you who recognize some piece of yourself in this column,
you don't have to go it alone. Help is out there! An Adult Children of
Alcoholics chapter is being formed here. The group meets Mondays at
7:30 p.m. at Seaside United Methodist Church near Ocean Isle Beach.
Someone to talk to about it is as close as a call to the church, 579-9136.
And for you women who have been in or are still in abusive
relationships or homes, Hope Harbor Home (754-5726) offers
empowerment groups that can help you and your family.
Write Us
The Beacon welcomes letters to the editor. All letters must be
signed and include the writer's address. Under no circumstances will
unsigned letters be printed. Letters should be legible. The Beacon
reserves the right to edit libelous comments. Address letters to The
Brunswick Beacon, P. O. Box 2558, Shallotte, N. C. 28459.
a column like this, especially in my
Susan
Usher
4W
L
What If Thanksgiving Were A Year-Round Holiday?
I ran across a great "thank-you"
card a while back. I found it in one
of those novelty shops that sells
crazy coffee mugs and absurd
bumper slickers and wacky sta
tionery for mildly deranged folks
like myself.
The card was printed by a compa
ny called Poison Pen Greetings Inc.,
or something to that effect. It was
blood red with a red envelope. On
the front were the words, "Thank
you..." Inside, the message ended
with, "...for nothing."
Naturally, I snapped up the card
and zipped it off to an individual
who I felt had done me wrong in a
particular situation. I've been
known to do uncool things like that
now and then. My wife says my
"German temper" is to blame ?
either that or temporary insanity.
I think about that card from time
to time ? not necessarily about the
person to whom it was sent but
about the sentiment behind it
Thank you for nothing ? a saying
that, surprisingly enough, dates
back to the early 1600s in Cer
vantes' Don Quixote.
The older I get, the more 1 doubt
that I could ever have absolutely
i
Rahn
Adams
nothing to be thankful for in even
the worst situations. As far as old
sayings go, there's the one about
how "every cloud has a silver lin
ing." The difficulty is being able to
see those silver linings while you're
standing in the rain.
Speaking of clouds, take Hur
ricane Hugo, for example. On Sept.
21 at 5:30 p.m., you would have
had a hard time convincing me that
there was anything good about this
ugly old storm that was forcing me
to evacuate my Ocean Isle Beach
home and to leave most of my toys
behind.
Hugo's silver lining, though, was
the reminder that life is more
important than material possessions.
Our washer, dryer, air conditioner,
lawn mower, grass trimmer and arti
ficial Christmas tree that "died" in
the storm might have disagreed, but
I learned that they could be re
placed.
That's about as serious as 1 want
to get in this column. There have
been many considerably less grim
events so far in 1989 for which I
can give thanks. Here are some ex
amples from each month:
January ? Brunswick County
Commissioners began the year with
work sessions that were supposed to
help them get a jump on 1989-90
budget work. At the time, I was
bored stiff by the special meetings
(that continued through late June,
by the way), but they later helped
me appreciate the fact that county
budgets aren't formalized overnight.
It takes at least one night and the
better part of the next day for the
commissioners to work out a secret
budget deal over the telephone.
February ? My wife and 1 moved
from Calabash to Ocean Isle Beach.
I hated the idea of leaving all of
those fine seafood restaurants be
hind, but I was comforted in the fact
that as soon as the weather warmed
up and I bought a new pair of
binoculars, my eyes would be feast
ing on balhing beauties galore.
March ? The weather wanned
up, but my wife kind of cooled to
the idea of me gawking at other
women on the beach. I was thankful
that I hadn't purchased a larger pair
of binoculars, considering where
my wife threatened to put them one
sunny afternoon.
April ? We had to pay Uncle Sam
so much in taxes that my wife,
whose birthday is April 15, finally
understood why I didn't buy her
that candy-apple red Porsche con
vertible she asks for every year.
Instead, I bought her a faded red
1961 T-Craft motor boat without a
rain canopy. I even sprang for a
quart of black anti-fouling hull
paint. Her exact words were,
"Thanks a lot, pal."
May ? A brief, violent storm at
Ocean Isle Beach ripped the roofs
off about six houses and shook our
humble abode by its pilings the
same night that tornadoes wreaked
havoc elsewhere in the Carolinas.
Boy, did I feel foolish a few days
later when the weather service said
our disturbance was only a "down
burst." I was just glad that I hadn't
already bought the island's "I
Survived (insert disaster)" T-shirt
concession.
June ? A Brunswick County in
vestigative grand jury indicted 13
truly unlucky individuals on co
caine trafficking charges. Many of
us breathed sighs of relief that the
list included no lawmen, county
officials, town leaders, prominent
businessmen or eldest sons of any
of the above...for a change.
July ? It was a struggle, but I sur
vived the Fourth of July celebration
at Ocean Isle Beach without being
stmck by any stray skyrockets from
the strand and emerged from the
weekend with only a strange case of
twitching and stuttering. Shell
shock, I guess. (For added effect,
insert at least two extra S's in front
of every s-word in the preceding
paragraph, then read it aloud to a
friend.. .Now you know how I felt
on July 5.)
August ? I marked my 30th birth
day. 1 would say I "celebrated" it,
but I try not to exaggerate too much
in my column. For example...
September ? Hurricane Hugo. If
you remember the piece 1 wrote on
hurricane names last spring, you'll
remember that I predicted Hugo to
be the "Big One" this year. I'm glad
it was just a lucky guess, though,
becausc my boss said I'd be in a
heap of trouble if he thought I actu
ally had anything to do with bring
ing that storm our way.
October ? After being ignored for
over two years, I finally received
my official "Welcome to Shallotte."
My nearly brand new car was rav
aged in a senseless rear-end colli
sion on U.S. 17. Luckily, I wasn't
driving the classic 1974 AMC
Gremlin I traded in last year.
Since November isn't over yet
and December is yet to come, I'll
refrain from making assumptions or
predictions about any other dark
clouds with silver linings this year.
Let's just hope for the best.
Besides, with the county commis
sioners talking about scheduling
extra work sessions in the coming
weeks, I'm having an awfully hard
time keeping myself from taking
another jab or two at them. They
are, after all, five of the finest, most
up-standing, hardest- working folks
I've ever been forced to spend hour
after hour after hour with.
So on this Thanksgiving, I bid
you adieu with this heartening quo
tation ? selected at random ? from
Mark Twain's Following the
Equator: "Let us be thankful for the
fools. But for them the rest of us
could not be successful." Amen.
WHAT DOES SAND MOVING for dune building do to these creatures?
PHOTO ?Y BILL FAVER
We Know So Little Because We Seldom Ask
BY BILL FAVER
I watched with interest the sand-moving activity
going on at Holden Beach last week. Large earth
movers were scooping up sand at
the water's edge and moving it
along the dune line to be pushed
up into new dunes.
The frenzied activity to move
sand while the tide was out in
cluded going into the water to
gather sand. I'm sure no one was
objecting to this good effort by
the town to rebuild the dunes lost
to Hurricane Hugo. As an
oceanfront lot owner, I certainly
did not. But there were some
questions not asked that bothered me.
What was happening to the intertidal organisms
that live in the zone between low tide and high tide?
Usually they can move along with the tides and their
swiftness is their clue to staying alive. There was no
way they could anticipate or escape the big
caterpillars. Those who lived through the scooping
action were left high on the beach in dry sand and
likely did not survive.
What was happening to the ghost crabs who live in
FAVER
the area where sand was being deposited? Addition of
extra sand and the effect of the earth movers probably
caused tunnels and burrows to collapse, trapping
many of these critters. Some may have been able to
dig out or to shift locations on up in the dunes. Others
probably perished. Because of the warm weather not
many of them would be hibernating and their
activities were certainly disrupted.
What effect will the sand moving have on the fish
and birds we usually have in the fall? We'll be able to
tell about this question. We can see if changing the
availability of mole crabs, coquinas, worms and small
crustacea at the water's edge cuts down on the fish
and birds who come here to eat them.
Answers to questions such as these are hard to get.
One of the reasons we know so little about the
answers is that we seldom ask the questions. We
assume that our activity will be beneficial to us but
will do little harm to the other creatures with whom
we share this special place.
Even if we did know the answers, though, we
probably would feel the need to replace the' dunes far
outweighed the need to protect a few million crabs
and worms and clams. And then we wonder why there
are fewer fish and fewer birds and less shells than
once we had.
Save Me A Seat On The Sofa
Over the past two years, I figure
I've been to about 50 meetings in
Calabash Town Hall. For most of
those meetings, I was able to sit
comfortably on the soft blue sofa
that adorns the conference room.
If you've never been to the town
hall, you have no idea what I'm
talking about. So let me tell you a
little about it It's one of those three
cushion specials that invites you to
sit down, and when you do you
never want to get back up
Without a doubt, it's the most
comfortable seat in the county as far
as this reporter is concerned. And
believe me, when you sit through as
many board meetings as I do, you
learn to appreciate quality furniture.
Anyway, I fear my days as a sofa
sitter are coming to an end. The new
regime is about to take over Ca
labash, and I suspect there may be
more public attendance at the town
meetings than there has been in the
past.
What it boils down to is that I'll
probably have to compete for my
spot on the sofa that has gone un
contested for more than two years.
Anything to complicate my life.
It was somehow appropriate that
the old Calabash Town Council
couldn't meet last week. It would
Doug
Rutter
have been the council's final
meeting if enough board members
had shown up.
Although it showed signs of
greatness at times, the old Calabash
Town Council often reminded me of
a horse with a trick knee. It made
some good runs but rarely crossed
the finish line without falling down
a few times.
Some of the folks in Carolina
Shores think all of that will change
now that they have five rep
resentatives on the commission.
They're probably right. It will be
interesting to see what the new
board has planned for what some
people have dubbed the "New
Calabash"
I guess it wouldn't be right to talk
about all these forthcoming changes
in Calabash without mentioning
something that won't change. May
or Doug Simmons will be back for
another four years.
Without a doubt, Mr. Cook was a
qualified and capable candidate. But
I'm glad the people of Carolina
Shores found it in their hearts to put
their faith in Mayor Simmons.
He knows the people of Calabash
? old Calabash that is ? and should
help blend the two areas together.
Personally, I would have missed his
fishing and hunting stories.
While we're on the subject of
elections, you may be interested to
know that my background as an
investigative journalist is paying big
dividends these days. You guessed
it, I found out who voted for
Batman in the Holden Beach elec
tion. Sorry, but I can't reveal the
name of the voter in question or the
source of my information ? which in
this case are one and the same.
Anyway, only time will tell what
the new regime has in store for the
people of Calabash. I have a feeling
that all of Calabash, both new and
old, will benefit from consolidation
in the long run. But of course, that's
only my opinion.
The only thing I'm sure of right
now is that I beuer get to the town
meetings early if I want a seat. I
wonder if I could reserve a spot on
the sofa.
Best Of Press
Few of us get what we deserve, for
which most of us should be thankful.
-Enquirer, Cincinnati
**???
Some minds are like concrete-all
mixed up and permanently set
-Herald, Altoona, Iowa
?????
If you can look happy when you're
not, you'll get along all right.
-Observer, Vail, Iowa
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Shallotte, N.C. 28459
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