I was pleased to see that a Carolinas television show, Life in the Carolinas, did a show on my hometown- Cheraw, SC.

Intro

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Pretty cool story, about a pretty little town.

In light of the recent discussion about social networking, I have been thinking about a platform to allow the class of Cheraw (SC) High School class of 1978 to reconnect a little.  I was inspired by Ethan Johnson’s blog based attempt to avoid the entrapment of Classmates.com and other walled-in social networks.

I want the platform to be community-based, where everyone feels ownership.  For that reason, I decided to create something outside of Newsome.Org.  After looking around a bit, I concluded that Ning was the best beginning point.  Using Ning, I have created the Cheraw High ’78 social network.

Now comes the problem.  Because I am a poor correspondent, I don’t know how to get the word out to my classmates.  So I am going to start by listing a few names and hoping that Google searches will lead a few people to this post, and in turn to the Cheraw High ’78 site.  If that happens, and people spread the word, it might achieve escape velocity and take off.

Or it might not.  But this is all I can do.

The rest is up to Google, and you (I don’t know any married names, so I’m going to go with what I know for the women).

Michael Graham
Kevin Morris
Thomas Burr
Tommy Rollings
Ande Rogers
Jay Leach
Theo Burns
Joe Middleton
Alan Smith
Pam Lovelace
Angie Lovelace
Pam Deprete
Julia Taylor
DeeDee Marsh
Chris Porter
Diane Swain
Sarah Young
Thomas Meyers
Gus Anderson
Ernest Ash
Eleanor Baker
Judy Cranford
Kim Dickens
Whit Fowler
Jim Graham
Bonnie Graham
Ron Korfmacher
Meg Harris

These are just a few names.  If there is any traction, I’ll add more via another post.

Let me add that I know very little about using social networks, including many of the features Ning offers.  We’ll have to figure it out together.

I got back from my trip Friday afternoon. The trip was a sad one, as the reason for my return was to attend the funeral of one of my oldest friends, Kinney Stanton. There’s nothing I can say, in person or on the internet, that will dull the pain that Kinney’s untimely death has caused his family and friends. I was told that the line at the visitation at the funeral home on Wednesday evening was the longest in Cheraw history. I don’t doubt it- there were a lot of people there. I hope there’s a TV in heaven so Kinney could see how much he was loved and by how many. And of course so he can watch his Clemson football games.

One last gift Kinney gave his friends was to bring us together at and after his funeral. I saw some dear friends that I hadn’t seen for far too long. The afternoon at that bar on Highway 9 was special, as were the trips back to the ice house and dinner Wednesday night. Kinney was a “people person” and he brought people together, even after he could no longer join us. I rebuilt valued connections with a lot of people whom I care for deeply. Just one more in a long list of things Kinney did for others.

Kinney was not a perfect person- none of us are. But in the end people should be judged by their hearts. And Kinney’s heart was always in the right place. We were lifelong friends. We did good together. We raised hell together. We were allies and, on occasion, we strongly and even violently disagreed. We made each other laugh a lot, and we talked about life’s mysteries and challenges. But through it all, I never doubted Kinney’s heart. He cared for people deeply, maybe even too deeply.

Phil Lee has a song called The Mighty King of Love. The first time I heard it years ago, it reminded me of Kinney. The best part goes:

You call me the King of Love
Don’t I wish I were
I wouldn’t even call myself
A gifted amateur
I am the king of nothing
I am mostly skin and bone
And of all the broken hearts I broke
I mostly broke my own

Here’s an MP3 for anyone who wants to hear it. Phil, if you see this, it’s a low bit rate MP3, and a lot of people will probably buy the CD after hearing this song. Please don’t let your record company sue me.

One final thing I would note, to demonstrate the strength and kindness of the people who come from my hometown. At the visitation, in a time of almost unbearable grief, Kinney’s dad, who was one of my dad’s close friends, told me that he wanted to tell me a story about my dad sometime. The next day, just after the service, he sat me down in a folding chair and told me a story about my dad. The only stories I really know about my dad are the ones that he and others have told me, and I’m sure he knows that. The fact the he would take the time to tell me a story during such a sad time both humbles me as a human being and makes me unbelievably proud of where I come from. It is the Prettiest Town in Dixie, but not just because of the dogwoods.

My trip home was so intensely sad, but it was a healing thing as well. I am still sad about all the loss, but somehow it feels like things might turn out OK. There’s a ways to go, but thanks to the Mighty King of Love, we have a chance.

Kinney (right) with Thomas Burr, another lifelong friend, on the playground at Robert Smalls Elementary, 1971

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grief

For the first time since 1998, when I went back to bury my mother, I am headed home today. The reason why is not a happy one. I will write about that this weekend when I get back and have a chance to sit down with a bottle of whiskey and reflect on things.

Today I am thinking about how long I’ve been away. I have warm feeling about my hometown and I love quite a few people who live there. My extended absence comes down to a couple of things. One is my mostly (but obviously not entirely) subconscious desire the break the chain of sadness and loss that began there with my dad’s death in 1968 and ended with my mom’s in 1998. More importantly, however, is the combination of the great distance and my post-9/11 desire to keep my children’s feet on the ground. Cassidy has flown once or twice in 7+ years. Delaney has never been on an airplane. Some (actually most) of my friends think I’m nuts, but anyone who knows me knows that where my kids are concerned, I’m not subject to peer (or any other) pressure. If my hometown was 4 hours away, we’d go all the time. But it’s not. It’s halfway across the country (actually it’s on the edge of it; we’re halfway across it). So until I can plan a cross-country drive, my kids are going to have to wonder what Daddy’s hometown is like, kind of like they wonder about Paris, Sydney and NYC. Yes, my position will soften as they grow up and demand to see far away places, but we aren’t there yet.

Nevertheless, as I return to my hometown, I fully realize that I am going back to face my failures. My failure to visit. My failure to call often enough. Sometimes even my failure to send a Christmas or birthday card to people I love. It’s hard, but it’s only hard because I haven’t worked to keep the connections that once meant everything to me- that made me who I am.

It’s going to be a strange and sad trip. But my hope is that some small good will come of it. That I can remind a lot of good people that I care about them. That they are a part of me, and by association a part of my children. That they have been in my prayers every night since I left (at least every night I remember to say my prayers).

If I can tell a few people that, maybe it will be easier than I think. I hope so.