Reunited, It Doesn't Feel So Good

Bluffton Today column, March 16, 2007

Lately I’ve been hearing a Peaches & Herbs song playing on a loop in my head, “Reunited and it feels so good, reunited ‘cause we understood …” It is driving me crazy.

You see, one day last week I came home to find an email from Classmates.com in my inbox. The email indicated that I had received a "Classmates Email" from an ex-boyfriend, who by the way, shall remain anonymous in order to protect the innocent.

I couldn't resist, I had to click.

The subject of the email from said ex was, "Just wondering" and went on to read, "Are you the Courtney Hampson who used to live in Brick, NJ in the 90's? If so, I think you may know who I am? If you are, how are you doing?"

Suddenly it all came rushing back; this guy was a semi-nerd then and is clearly still a bozo today. I mean seriously, if you took the trouble to go to the website, look up the year you know I graduated high school and the town you know I lived in, and found my name there, chances are it is me, right?

Anyway, I was at a crossroads. Do I ignore his email or do I respond and tell him how wonderful my life is today, sans him. I of course, chose the later. My reply went something like this …

“Yes, I am the Courtney Hampson who lived in Brick, NJ and graduated in 1991 and yes, of course I know who you are.

I am great! I live Bluffton, South Carolina (Hilton Head area) with my husband, Joe. My mom and Sharon and her husband all live here as well. We love it in the South. We had a beautiful new home built. We are close to the beach and of course lots of golf. I have an amazing job in marketing, I write a weekly column for the local paper and I am teaching classes at the college level…”

Basically, my message was eat your heart out buddy, I am so much better than you ever imagined.

I’m not sure if it worked though. I am on day sixteen of the Classmates.com watch, and still no reply from the ex. (Did I mention that Joe thinks I am kook for even visiting the website?)

My dismay over why he chose not to respond got the best of me and I felt the need to explore further so I delved deep into his Classmates profile. And, oh boy you won’t believe what I found. His favorite music is the latest mix-tape that he made. (Alert, alert, alert!)

Now, making mix tapes was pretty hip in the 80’s, but it wasn’t cool in 1996 when I dated him (yes, he still made mix tapes in 1996) and I am pretty sure it is definitely not cool now. I mean does anyone still actually produce tapes? Are they even available in the stores? As I pictured him holed up in his garage with a boom box, that got me thinking…

Why did I embark on this mini-fact-finding-mission to discover more about a guy I dumped over a decade ago? More importantly, why are millions of people each day using these sites to reconnect?

Is it an honest desire to find someone from your past and catch up? Or is it the chance to finally one-up that girl who dumped you in the 9th grade? I haven’t found the answer, although I continue to be intrigued by the phenomenon.

As I penned this column and talked with Joe about how ridiculous the concept of Classmates.com is he gently reminded me about my little encounter with Reunion.com, which I had blocked from my memory. He apparently finds my craziness mildly entertaining and thought I should fess up, so I will.

Last year, I received an email from Reunion.com saying “Someone is looking for you. Join now to reconnect!” I couldn’t resist. I logged on and swiftly dropped $29 for an annual membership to find out who was searching for me.

Well, sadly it Paula Siminski from the class of 1968. She graduated five years before I was even born. $29 down the drain.

I haven’t found an answer yet to the question of why we (me and three trillion members of classmates.com and reunion.com) have this need to look to the past.

I am guessing that we all really want that Sally Field Oscar moment … you love me, you really love me!

Courtney Naughton is a Jersey Shore native who moved to Bluffton. Yes, the Courtney who went to Brick High School and graduated in 1991. If I dated you in the 90s, send me an email at courtneynaughton@hargray.com. You know I’ll reply!

di ma kre se

Bluffton Today column, March 9, 2007

I go both ways.

I’ll take a Republican here, a Democrat or two there, maybe even a little Independent if the mood strikes me. But despite my open political arms I am struggling with the politics here in the Lowcountry.

I had to hit the dictionary to make sure that I am not going crazy and that democracy is still government for the people, by the people, yada, yada. But, just to make sure we are all on the same page of our civics book.

de·moc·ra·cy (di-ˈmä-krə-sē) noun.
1 a: government by the people; especially : rule of the majority b: a government in which the supreme power is vested in the people and exercised by them directly or indirectly through a system of representation usually involving periodically held free elections 2: a political unit that has a democratic government

dem·o·crat (de-mə-ˌkrat) noun.
1 a: an adherent of democracy b: one who practices social equality 2. capitalized : a member of the Democratic party of the United States

We all know and understand these definitions, right?

Then, someone please explain to me why according to Tuesday’s paper, “Democratic party officials have said that they do not expect to field a candidate in the (Senate) race.”

Then, please explain to me why the Beaufort County Democratic Party never fielded a candidate to run for the County Council Seat (Bluffton) last November.

Then, please explain to me where the heck all of the Democrats are.

No offense to my husband and the ten other folks (all with twenty plus years on Joe) who actively support the party. But, if the basis for the Democratic Party is to support democracy, then how come they aren’t?

Field a candidate people! So, you never win, who cares? The little engine that could didn’t make it up the hill the first time out. I think you can, I think you can.

We know that Bluffton is growing by leaps and bounds. We also know that a good chunk of the folks moving here are thirty or forty some things with families looking to settle. We also know that many are arriving via a blue state.

Why are we sitting back and allowing the Republican candidates to duke it out? We now have three Republican candidates for Scott Richardson’s vacated Senate Seat. Don’t we even want to get in the race? Surely, there is a Democrat somewhere with some experience or desire.

You are killing me people. I am dying a slow, agonizing death as a result of democracy withdrawal.

Surely I am not the only one thinking this (thank you Mom for your continued support). What is it going to take to get a little political action?

Basically people hate politics, I get that. But, people in Bluffton LOVE to complain. Well, complaining is not getting you anywhere! Stand up, have a voice, be seen and be heard.

Here is your chance.

Meet me on Tuesday, March 13 at 5:30 p.m. at Pepper’s Porch for the Democrat Club South of the Broad event. Sounds like a membership drive people!

Who knows in a few months we might be able to say – we thought we could, we thought we could.

Courtney Naughton is a Jersey Shore native who moved to Bluffton. Email your Fox News worthy rants to her at courtneynaughton@hargray.com.

The Inconsiderate Truth

Bluffton Today column, March 2, 2007

I have to be honest with you. I am getting quite sick of the nasty letters to the editor, the even nastier anonymous VOX comments, incidents of road rage, and car vs. dog hit and run accidents. Shame on us. What is happening here and why is everyone so angry?

Now, before you get all up in arms about my accusations, calm down. The inconsiderate vibe seems to travel well beyond our borders. Earlier this week I was in Savannah for dinner where the diners at the next table complained about the menu, the wine list, and the prices to the waitress while she stood by patiently and with a smile. What makes people think that they can say whatever they want and never consider hitting the edit button?

Oh, it gets better. From dinner we moved on to the Johnny Mercer Theatre to see Harry Connick, Jr. in concert. Harry started the show at eight o’clock on the dot. Twenty percent of the audience however was not as considerate. For fifteen minutes, late arrivals trickled in making noise along the way. Did I mention how many times a cell phone rang during his performance? Again, shame on us.

The inconsiderate truth is a nationwide epidemic, which leads me to my number one pet peeve.

Nothing drives me crazier than air travel. “Ladies and gentleman, we would now like to begin boarding our first class passengers for flight 452 to Newark.” Now, I know there are only a dozen first class seats, so how come 30 people are now hovering at the gate?

“Ladies and gentleman, we would now like to welcome any children flying alone or passengers who need assistance.” I see one child traveling and a man in a wheelchair, both of who have just been run over by 20 more passengers racing to elbow their way to the gate.

“Ladies and gentleman, we would now like to board passengers in rows 18-24.” By this time everyone is in line at the gate. Everyone but me, because I follow the rules and I am in row eight, so I wait.

By the time I board the plane and make my way to row eight, there is no overhead bin space left, because everyone at the back of the plane put their luggage in the front of the plane. God forbid they have to carry their luggage twenty extra feet. I mean, hello! You schlepped from the house to your car, from the car to the airport, from security to the gate, would a few more feet kill you?

So, I have to walk to the last row, to the only empty overhead bin and store my carry on luggage.
Now the plane lands in Newark and I have to wait for the entire plane to de-plane (are you picturing a small man in a white suit on a fantasy island?) before I can make my way to the back of the plane to get my luggage.

Last one on the plane, last one off the plane, because I follow the rules.


I truly don’t understand why people feel that they have the right to ignore the rules and treat people so poorly.

Breathe Courtney, breathe.

Whew.

Now back to Bluffton. A few words of wisdom my dear fellow citizens:

If you don’t live in Rose Hill, don’t weigh in on their issues (anonymously), let them handle it. Why do you feel the need to comment on their issues?

If you are driving 278 and hit a dog, cat or any other creature for that matter, for crying out loud, stop your car and do something about it you heartless fool.

Further, if you are driving 278 behind a 90 year old woman with coke bottle glasses and a maximum speed of 32 mph, chuckle to yourself, remember that you will be that old one day and without cutting anyone off, pass her. (Also try not to follow the 90 year old woman to a parking lot where you will beat her up.)

Come on people, be nice. Didn’t your mama teach you anything?

Courtney Naughton is a Jersey Shore native who moved to Bluffton. She used to get soap in her mouth when she spoke out of turn. Email her at Courtneynaughton@hargray.com.

The Jersey Devil v. The Gray Man of Pawleys Island

Bluffton Today column, February 23, 2007

So, earlier this week while grabbing my java at the Bluffton Coffee House, our conversation turned to the topic of the Jersey Devil. (Perhaps that is what they call me behind my back and there was a slip of the tongue?)

So, allow me to revisit my roots and recall the story that was commonplace at many a slumber party. The legend of the Jersey Devil has a number of versions – all shared as a right of passage growing up in the Garden State.

According to New Jersey history, most tellers of the legend of the Jersey Devil trace the devil back to Deborah Smith who emigrated from England in the 1700s to marry a Mr. Leeds. The Leeds family lived in the area of the New Jersey Pine Barrens in Southern New Jersey.

Apparently Mr. Leeds was insistent about having heirs. Mrs. Leeds had already given birth to twelve children, when she became pregnant again. The story goes that Mrs. Leeds invoked the devil during a very difficult and painful labor and that when her thirteenth child was born, it either immediately, or very soon afterwards, (depending on the version of the story), grew into a full-grown devil and escaped from the house.

From that day on the Jersey Devil is said to have haunted New Jersey and even parts of Delaware and Pennsylvania. The most recent account of an encounter with the Jersey Devil was in Freehold, NJ (we used to live there) in 2002.

All this talk of the Jersey Devil got me thinking.

Surely, South Carolina has similar legends. James Brown was the first legend to come to mind, but he is getting plenty of press on his own. So, a little research turned up the story of “The Gray Man of Pawleys Island”.

Here is an excerpt from the state’s website written by Patrick McCawley.
Historical ghost stories abound in South Carolina, but one of the oldest and most famous is the story of the Gray Man of Pawleys Island, a coastal community in Georgetown County. Several versions of this story exist, but all say the apparition appears before major storms to warn the island’s inhabitants of approaching danger.

The oldest version begins with a young woman from Colonial Charleston, the daughter of a prominent family. She had many suitors, but would not choose among them because she was in love with her wild and reckless cousin. Both sets of parents objected to the match and discouraged it by sending the young man to Europe. News soon arrived from France of his death in a duel. Brokenhearted, the young woman went into mourning, refusing to see suitors or other callers.

A year later, a young wealthy rice planter from the Waccamaw area visited the family. A recent widower, he fell in love at first sight with the still grief-stricken girl and sought her father’s permission to court her. The father agreed, but told the young man the sad story of her previous romance. Eventually, the young planter won her hand and the couple married. The newlyweds wintered on a large estate on Waccamaw Neck and summered on Pawleys Island.
During the Revolution the planter served as a captain under Francis Marion. While away fighting the British in the summer of 1778, his family moved to the summer home on Pawleys Island. One evening, a violent storm foundered a ship off shore. The slaves saw one survivor stumble out of the surf. The slaves told him their master was away, but that the mistress would provide him with shelter until the end of the storm. They took him to the summer house and gave the stranger food and dry clothes. When the mistress of the house came to greet him, she fainted. The mysterious stranger cried out and ran from the house, disappearing into the storm. He was her lost love thought dead many years before. It was later learned he died of yellow fever and exposure while trying to find his way south to Charleston. It is said he still haunts the island in the vicinity of this old house, a shadowy "Gray Man" warning islanders of storms and the perils they bring.

One hundred years from now as people travel the Lowcountry in their Jetson-esque flying machines, they will tell the legend of “The Big Mouth of Bluffton”. Who do you think it will be?

Is It Wrong?

Is it wrong that this morning while driving to work, I wished that the old man in the white corvette who passed me (and 3 other cars on the left on his way to a left turn a 1/4 mile down the road) flipped over and skidded across the road like the NASCAR driver crossing the finish line?

No, what I fear is wrong is that I just used NASCAR as a point of reference. Wow, I think I just became a Southerner.

I'll Show You Mine

Bluffton Today column, February 16, 2007

Since moving here we had been searching for a restaurant to replace our beloved “Metro Café” in Freehold, NJ. The first time Joe and I went to “Metro Café” we ordered a sweet and spicy calamari and shrimp appetizer. The dish arrived with chopsticks on the plate. In an effort to show off (I think) Joe picked up the chopsticks to demonstrate his skill. As he closed in around the first piece of shrimp … snap! The chopsticks broke in half, because after all they were breadsticks not chopsticks. We had a good laugh over that, and returned to Metro Café many times. It became “our place.”

So, for two years we have been on the prowl for a new “our place” Lowcountry style. It took awhile, but we finally found it. And, that got me thinking …

How many of you have “that place” where you go to celebrate the special occasions, or for a pick me up when you are feeling blue?

I’ve had a few in my day.

My high school/college boyfriend, Brian, and I made The Crab’s Claw in Lavallette our place, when he invited me there for Easter Dinner my senior year of high school. I had never celebrated a holiday without my parents until that point and it was that Easter dinner that made me realize, wow I am a grownup now. We dined there the night before I left for college and then again the night after I came back home six months later (homesick for him and with a 2.0 GPA from West Virginia University, ranked the number 1 party school in 1991, you do the math).

My best friend from graduate school, Patrick, and I would always meet before class at the T.G.I. Fridays in Eatontown. It was nothing special, but it was our place. And despite a close knit group of fellow graduate students, we never let them be a part of our ritual. We ordered the same appetizers each week, practiced our presentations for our class that evening, and every once in awhile we would add a drink to our repertoire – it seemed that a drink would calm our nerves a bit before we had to stare into 25 sets of eyes and practice our public speaking skills. Those were the days.

Now, I know the suspense is killing you … and I am willing to share (courtesy of my new Southern hospitality attitude) the new place that Joe and I discovered. It is “211 Park” on the Island. The décor and menu remind us so much of our beloved Metro Café, we just felt at home there the second we stepped through the door.

Add to that, the food is phenomenal – “an eclectic menu with fusion cuisine”. Try the goat cheese casserole served with crusty bread – it is to die for. The tuna, tuna, tuna appetizer is phenomenal – sushi grade tuna bites, encrusted in spices and served with shaved ginger, wasabi and teriyaki. Yum. The cedar planked salmon melts in your mouth, as do the mashed potatoes. The wine list is impressive and they serve Guinness, which makes Joe a happy customer. Perhaps my favorite part is Kathy P., the waitress who has served us the last two times we have gone. She has a remarkable Midwestern accent with a little Southern twang and tons of energy. She makes dining there fun.

Now, I’ve showed you mine, will you show me yours?

Courtney Naughton is a Jersey Shore native who moved to Bluffton. She shares well with others. Thank her mom for that. Email Courtney at courtneynaughton@hargray.com.

Have a Heart

Bluffton Today column, February 9, 2007

Hi my name is Courtney and I am addicted to Beverly Hills 90210 re-runs. (Hi Courtney!) Yes, it is true. Everyday after work I settle in on the couch for back to back episodes of 90210. Yes, I’ve seen them all a dozen times, but for some reason I can’t turn away.

Most recently Brenda was waiting for Dylan to pick her up for her surprise Valentine’s Day date. Brenda was in a tizzy because Dylan wouldn’t give her any hints as to where they were going. After 40 minutes of drama it was revealed that the big date was to donate blood. And, that got me thinking …

As we embark on Valentine’s week, we will undoubtedly be bombarded by advertisers suggesting that they know the best gift to give our loved ones - chocolates, romantic dinners, jewelry, flowers, homemade coupon books (always a favorite) - the options are endless.

But, what if you were asked to consider giving a gift to a stranger who you had never met but needs your help regardless?

According to the American Red Cross, every two seconds someone in America needs blood. In areas were populations are increasing by leaps and bounds (like the Lowcountry) the need for blood is even greater because as our population grows the number of blood donors do not necessarily follow the same trend.

Have I piqued your interest? Will you have a heart and consider giving blood?

To give blood to another person, you must:
Be healthy. "Healthy" means that you feel well and can perform normal activities. If you have a chronic condition such as diabetes or high blood pressure, "healthy" also means that you are being treated and the condition is under control.
Be at least 17 years old
Weigh at least 110 pounds (no problem here)
Not have donated blood in the last 8 weeks (56 days)

Your health history will also be discussed as part of the donation process before any blood is collected and a medical professional will have your temperature, iron level, blood pressure and pulse checked in order to ensure your well being.

Then comes the prickly part, your arm will be cleaned and a needle will be inserted to draw the blood. Then, you sit back and relax for 7 to 10 minutes until approximately a pint of blood has been collected.

Not convinced yet? You get refreshments when you are done in order to help your body adjust to the loss of fluid.

It sounds easy enough - 7 to 10 minutes of your life in order to save another.

There are a few options for giving blood as your gift to a stranger for Valentine’s Day. You can make an appointment at the Savannah Donor Center (25 Tibbet Avenue, Savannah) today, tomorrow, or any day next week or stop by one of these two community events:

Saturday, February 10, 9:00 AM to 1:00 PM
Southern Women’s Show
Savannah International Trade & Convention Center
One International Drive
Savannah, GA

Monday, February 12, 10:00 AM to 7:00 PM
Saturn National Donor Day at Café SCAD
Savannah College of Art & Design – West Boundary Street
Savannah, GA

For more details visit:
www.redcross.org
www.igiveblood.com
www.givelife2.org.

Go forth and donate!


Courtney Naughton is a Jersey Shore native who moved to Bluffton. Despite some local rumors to the contrary, she does indeed have a heart. Contact Courtney at courtneynaughton@hargray.com

Clean up in aisle two

Bluffton Today column, February 2, 2007

I popped into one of our local food stores on Saturday for a few items. Prepare yourself. I am getting ready to complain and I know that some of you go berserk when I name names so I figured we could play elimination. Said food store is not Piggly Wiggly, Publix, or Food Lion.

Anyway, in an effort to get in and out quickly, Joe and I chose the self checkout lane. Every time we attempt to self-check we hit a stumbling block. This time was no different. We had only two items left to scan and I thought we were going to be home free and then it happened. The light lit up, the screen flashed “ask for cashier help” and we were stuck. “Ask for cashier help” would be an easy enough task, except that said cashier sits up on a stool like a lifeguard. He watches the action but I never see him jump in the pool, he doesn’t react to anyone who needs help.

Another woman trapped at the self-checkout next to ours exchanged some choice words with the cashier and that got me thinking …

What price do we pay for customer service these days? If I am paying good money in the food store and I have even elected to do the scanning and bagging myself, do you think it is too much to ask for a little customer service when my lane lights up and the screen starts flashing like an amusement park ride? I think not.

Now you know that I am not one to keep my mouth shut, so in a more than conversational tone I pointed out the problems with the self-checkout lanes. Of course, no one who worked there was listening, so my only conclusion was to write about it.

Sunday morning we headed out again to run some errands. This time, Neighbors Gas Station and Car Wash was on the agenda – the “almost spring” weather that arrived a few weeks ago had dusted my car with a good coat of pollen and it was a little embarrassing.

Talk about a customer service 180, this place is awesome (did I really just use that word?). A young man took our “order” for the super-duper wash and from that point forward there were no less than three employees working on our car, vacuuming, dusting, window washing. This was customer service at its best. The employees all appeared to be teenagers and they were kind, considerate and smiling the whole time. And it was frigid on Sunday - not the ideal weather for a car wash.

We tipped them well and as we pulled away Joe and I talked about how this great experience was such a contradiction to the previous day’s checkout debacle.

So, why is customer service such a hard concept to grasp these days?

Interestingly a few days before these events, I was in a meeting with the CEO of the company I work for. He mentioned that he doesn’t like when people reply to a request with, “No problem.” I did a quick scan of my brain to calculate how many times I had said that to him as he continued, “By saying ‘no problem’, we imply that there could be a problem, but we will attempt to avoid it.”

He makes a lot of sense (probably why he is the CEO) and as I replayed that conversation in my head I realized that perhaps customer service is lacking because we anticipate the worst. Instead we should anticipate the best and make customer service “our pleasure.”

Geesh, the Southern way is rubbing off on me, bless my heart.

And that got me thinking

Bluffton Today column, January 26, 2007

It had to have been fate. Bluffton Today launched during the first week of April, 2005 – the same week that I made Bluffton home. I picked it up right away and found that I loved the idea of a hometown newspaper. It was a lesson in contradictions for me. Having spent the last few years stopping at Quick Chek in the morning for the Daily Record and the Star Ledger (whose Sunday papers averaged 5 lbs on a light news day) I realized that I did indeed move to a small town.

And, that got me thinking …

Surely there were other recent transplants who needed some help navigating their new hometown - and the New Hometown column was born a few months later.

I’ve been writing New Hometown for almost eighteen months now and living in Bluffton for almost two years, so I figured it was time for a change. (Stop the celebration naysayers, this is not my last column.) Oh, you’ll still get the scoop on everything Bluffton, but I wanted a little extra freedom to tackle any topic. So, a couple weeks ago I asked the readers for new column name suggestions.

Thank you to everyone who sent in some great ideas – Margie Anderson, Susan Heck, Sondra Goldberg, Linda Finch, Jack Osburn, Joanne Hackett and my Southern friend “Boots” whose suggestions, while tongue in cheek, would have gotten me fired in no time.

We (my editors and moi) ended up going with “And That Got Me …” - Some weeks you’ll get me thinking, other weeks you’ll get me hollering, and some weeks you’ll get me wondering. Same content different moniker.

When I put out the call for suggestions I promised a feature story on the winning contributor. And since the winner is me (balloons and confetti are falling around me as you read), here is a closer look at the girl you call “Jersey”.

I’m addicted to Chap Stick and reality television.

I didn’t get my first cavity until I was in college and I am proud to say that since that first discovery I have had no others.

I wear a size 10 shoe (ugh).

If I don’t wear my contacts or glasses I can’t see my hand in front of my face.

My golf swing closely mirrors my field hockey swing, which is why I still have not broken 100.

I celebrated my 5th wedding anniversary this past summer.

I have a Bachelor’s degree in social work and a Master’s degree in Corporate and Public Communication.

I am a millionaire and don’t have to work. I’m kidding - just trying to see if you were still reading.

I have a loud and obnoxious laugh (more like a cackle) and chances you’ve heard me in a restaurants and thought “what the heck is so funny over there.”

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday.

My cousin Michael is my hero.

I am afraid of heights.

I like to paint, draw, and create.

I hope you continue to read. It only gets better from here.

To the 42 Ohio natives who moved to Bluffton yesterday – welcome, this is wonderful place to live.

Courtney Naughton is a Jersey Shore native who moved to Bluffton. She brings the Jersey attitude to the Lowcountry.

An Eye Opening Experience

January 19, 2007 Bluffton Today column

When I lived “Up Nawth” I taught speech communication as an adjunct professor. I was scared to death the first day I stepped foot in the classroom. Lucky for me I had an 8:00 a.m. class with twenty doe-eyed recent high school graduates who had no idea what to expect. Frankly, I could do not wrong. Because if nothing else, I knew that I knew more than they did and the rest I was able to fake.

One of my favorite students from that first class, Andy, wrote the following in his class evaluation, “Northampton should only hire young, cool professors. Courtney was tough, but fair and even though she admitted at the end that she had never taught before, I never would have guessed.” Andy made me realize that I should take my own advice. And, what I had been preaching to him all semester – “the nerves are in your head, just relax” – was a mantra that I needed to remember.

Then of course I had the dope who actually went to the bathroom in his pants, at his desk, in my classroom. And no, it wasn’t the easy clean-up kind of “go”. The details are more than I need to share here, but that incident really made me reevaluate why the heck I was schlepping myself to a part-time job two or three times a week.

Over the course of three years I had some amazing students who taught me a lot. The difficult students challenged me and made me a better teacher. The straight-A students taught me a thing or two and made me grateful to be a part of their college experience.

The hardest task of all was getting the students to make eye contact with their audience and me when speaking. The nerves would kick in and suddenly the podium, their bracelet or the note cards in their hands became the most interesting items in the room. For three years and over 400 students eye contact was my nemesis.

Until now.

Last week I started teaching a Speech Course for Embry Riddle Aeronautical University at the Marine Corps Air Station, Beaufort. Again, I was nervous. I was accustomed to a civilian audience and not quite sure what to expect from 16 Marines (and former Marines) and a one Navy man. Well, I got my answer - eye contact.

What a pleasure it was to see 17 sets of us eyes staring back at me whenever I spoke. Even more impressive was the student’s ability to make eye contact with every person in the room each time they spoke. Now, I know I what I have been missing. I believe the Marines are certainly teaching our guys and gals well.

Once I got past the eye contact phenomenon I wanted to better understand what it was that my students did each day at the Air Station. And suddenly, speech communication lost its luster. Here are 17 men and women who are maintaining, and testing F-18s and all of the paraphernalia that accompanies that great machine. This is important work, especially recognizing the state of the world today.

I feel like I should be thanking my students every time I see them for the work that they are doing and you know what, you should too.

And the rockets red glare ...

January 12, 2007 - Bluffton Today column

So, what is the worst thing that could happen when trying to sell your home? Give up? How about your neighborhood becoming the topic of Vox discussions for seven solid days? (Probably ten days by now).

I live in Pine Ridge and yes, I heard the fireworks on New Years Eve and again last Friday night and yes, I had some choice words for my silly neighbors, but let’s put things in perspective people.

The Vox callers are deducing that every resident in Pine Ridge breaks the law and has a disregard for the community because one resident was setting off fireworks. The concerned neighbors called the police, what more can we do?

Maybe the problem lies with the Police Department – why aren’t they fining the people who are breaking the law? Better yet, if it is illegal to set off fireworks in Beaufort County then maybe we should be complaining about the fact that they are for sale at every point where our borders meet Jasper County.

I am sure we could find fault in every neighborhood in Bluffton - parking, peeing in the community pool, overgrown lawns, teenagers with garage bands, you name it. But, seriously folks get a grip. Don’t chastise an entire neighborhood based on the actions of one idiot.

Now, if you are in the market for a four bedroom, two and half bath home on a quiet, wooded, cul de sac lot with living room, family room, dining room, and study, that has been professionally painted and landscaped, shoot me an email. We’ll work out a deal.

On to bigger and better things … Today is Joe’s 40th birthday. We will be having a fireworks show to celebrate in our backyard tomorrow evening. Just kidding. Let me start again. Today is Joe’s 40th birthday and despite his creaking bones, graying hair, and obvious poor choice in a spouse, I love him dearly and hope that all his wishes come true. In all honesty, he doesn’t look a day over thirty-five and aging with him will indeed be a pleasure.

On to even bigger and better things … it is time to re-vamp my column.

I have been towing the “new girl in town” line for almost 18 months now. I’ve been living in Bluffton for just shy of two years, and I don’t really consider myself a newbie anymore. (Cue moans and groans from the locals). I am comfortable here. I have good friends here. I have discovered restaurants, beaches and stores that I love. I’ve come to appreciate the Lowcountry way of life and I am even warming to the weather patterns.

So, while I intend to continue writing about everything I see and do here in Bluffton and beyond, I need a new name for my column. And, I turn to you for suggestions. Anticipating some of the responses that I may get I started a list:

Does She Think Before She Talks
Go Home Yankee
Northerners Do It Better

Seriously, whether you love me or hate me, I would enjoy your suggestions for a new column name. To sweeten the pot, the reader with the “winning” suggestion will be featured in a future column.

And, that’s all folks.

Might as well face it, I'm addicted ...

They say, “The first step is admitting it”.

So, here goes – I am addicted to my BlackBerry. Wow that felt good.

It didn’t take long, I only received it on Tuesday, but I can’t put it down. It is like a shiny new car or a cute new boyfriend (yes, I am married, bear with me) – I want to go everywhere with it and show it off.

Everyone is in awe. When I brought it to my sister’s house she said, “I’ve never seen one before,” and she oohed and aahed as I showed her what it could do. My friend Huntley remarked, “You know that thing is smarter than you.” Smarter than him too I guess, since he was unsuccessful in helping me change my ring tone. Joe is a BlackBerry veteran, but still harbored some obvious jealousy over my new and improved model.

“Those things will kill you,” they say. They are right. The power that it wields is frightening. You mean at any moment, with the roll of my thumb, I can reach nirvana? Ahem, I mean I can access my emails? Perhaps it is the innate desire to respond to the email “ding” while driving that will kill us.

My, how times have changed. A little technology has come a long way.

In middle school, I had computer class once a week. The room was always kept ice cold; to “keep the computers healthy” our teacher would say. There were only a dozen or so computers in the room, so we had to share. I couldn’t differentiate the DOS from the desk. Thankfully Erika Miscio sat next to me. She was a whiz!

In high school, I took a keyboarding class and I couldn’t resist the desire to look at the keyboard despite the warnings that if I didn’t look at the teacher, I would fail. Memorizing the keyboard was the goal. Lucky for me, I had one of my fingers smashed between two field hockey sticks during a game and I was allowed special privileges on the keyboard. Since one finger was set in this metal contraption with lots of tape, I couldn’t be expected to master keyboarding with only 9 fingers.

In the nineties when I was in college, I was re- introduced to working on a computer and the concept of a computer lab. I embraced the technology of fixing mistakes without using white out and I never looked back.

In graduate school – after being bombarded with email assignments and online discussion boards, I revolted briefly and wrote a paper about the longevity of the greeting card and handwritten communication. Of course, I had to type it to submit it so my battle was uphill all the way.

When I started teaching Speech Communication at the college level I was asked to teach an online version of the course. Yes, you heard correctly – I taught a speech communication course online. And, that is when it hit me. We are all slaves to our computer, will our children be the same?

Oops, I can hear my BlackBerry humming. How did I ever live with out it? Oh, that was when I had a life.

No BlackBerry was injured during the writing of this column. Email Courtney at courtneynaughton@hargray.com – an email account not connected to her BlackBerry, so be patient in waiting for a reply.

New Year's Resolutions

Bluffton Today column, December 29, 2006

Ugh, I just read my column from January 1, 2006. In it I joked … “Here we are again, January 1. The day where we all reflect on the past, promise to do better next year and make a list of resolutions, most of which we never achieve. Well, that’s the story on my end at least.”

Ironically, I’ve proved myself right once again. I managed to achieve none – yes, you read correctly, none - of the 10 goals that I set for myself in 2006. My mission was to explore Bluffton and really get to know my new hometown. Interestingly, I feel like I made great strides in that arena, I just approached my task from a direction different than I had originally anticipated.

Despite my good intentions last year, I didn’t …
1. Participate in the Old Town Bluffton Planning
2. Have the opportunity to work with Habitat for Humanity. (Instead, I did devote my time and talent to other non-profit causes.)
3. Fish, crab, shrimp – catch something, anything, and cook it.
4. Break 100 on the golf course.
5. Follow through on my “pizza crawl” in an attempt to find a pizza join with Jersey routes.
6. Convince BT to join me in hosting an event so that Yankees and local Blufftonians can meet.
7. Meet more of my neighbors. (I did however meet a host of Blufftonians, new and old - just none who share a similar street address).
8. Put air in the tires of my bike and use it.
9. Invest energy in the Bluffton Dog Park idea.
10. And, I didn’t have the chance to go mud boggin’ along the May River.

So, rather than set myself up for another year of failure I decided that this year’s list would reflect all of the things that I will not accomplish in 2007. Here goes, I will not:

1. Eat pancakes and complain about the prices. Ah, who am I kidding – if I don’t like something, you’ll know it.
2. Joke (publicly) about Nascar, pecans, grits, or any other traditionally Southern fare or pastime.
3. Stand for another dismal voter turnout. I’m still determining how to make an impact in this area.
4. Pine for New Jersey and snow. (Joe bought me a snow globe for Christmas so, problem solved).
5. Let my bicycle and golf clubs continue to accumulate dust. (I will dust the garage and its contents at least once a month.)
6. Let the “bloggers” and “voxers” get under my skin.
7. Limit my Southern exploration to Bluffton and Hilton Head alone – Charleston and Savannah deserve some attention.
8. Underestimate the passion and good intentions of our local elected officials. (If you don’t believe me, attend a meeting!)
9. Well, I will try not to refer to New Jersey as home. Bluffton is home now.
10. Let another year go by so quickly.

Live it up Bluffton. Happy New Year!

The Gift of Giving

Bluffton Today Column, December 22, 2006

I was sitting at a traffic light today, listening to Christmas music, watching palm fronds blow in the breeze and thought to myself - I can’t believe that I am preparing to spend my second Christmas here in the Lowcountry. How time flies.

While thinking about crafting the perfect Christmas column, I started to look back on Christmas’ past and my traditions growing up.

We would always spend Christmas Eve with my mom’s side of the family. Three and, for many years, four generations of our family would gather for Christmas Eve dinner. Santa always arrived after dinner and everyone (young and old) would have to sing a Christmas carol to receive their first present. Over the years, singing carols progressed into playing musical instruments, writing our own lyrics to the tune of existing carols, performing scenes from our school plays – you name it.

On Christmas morning my mom would always make our special Christmas breakfast – a Bisquick recipe that she clipped one year and had quickly become a tradition.

Our tree was always downstairs and we would have to wait for my parents to have the video camera set-up before we could go downstairs. This ensured that they would capture the look on our faces as we got our first glance at what Santa had left.

As I traveled down memory lane one moment really stands out in my mind – the year my sister and I received our own house. Not a doll house mind you, but our very own house. It was made of cardboard (but we were potty trained, so it was ok) and easily stood five feet tall. It had a working door and windows with painted-on flower boxes.

We were thrilled with this gift! And, as the video captures, despite my excitement I did make time for a brief speech … “Hi, my name is Courtney and this is my sister, Sharon, and welcome to our new home!” (Imagine that with a squeaky, high-pitched, sugar-high, Christmas morning voice.) It must have been a sign of things to come as two of my favorite hobbies are interior decorating and entertaining a house full or people. (Well that and making Joe buy me a new house every two years …)

As I reminisced about my favorite gift over the years, I thought I would ask some others what they remember as their favorite gift from Christmas’ past.

My hubby, Joe, remembers his first Huffy BMX bike right down the flat black paint. He remarks that it was “the first year of transition from the banana seat, so it was a big deal.” He is also quite certain that there must be a scar on his head somewhere from when he flipped over the handlebars in, as he says, slow motion. (This could explain why the bike he got last year for his birthday has accumulated 11 months of dust in the garage.)

Bluffton Today’s very own Kim Jones (Nature Notes columnist) said, “I was always a science nerd in the making – I remember being VERY disappointed one Christmas that I didn’t get what I REALLY wanted – a telescope – and then all the presents were unwrapped and miraculously from my parents’ bedroom came my very own telescope. That Christmas was closely rivaled by the one during which I received a microscope. Really, I never stood a chance!”

My mother, as always, had the perfect answer. She said, “That's a tough question. I've been thinking about it a lot and can't think of a single ‘thing’”. She reminded me of the Christmas my Great-Great-Aunt Mary gave away all her valuables and then how we went through Aunt Mary’s house as she prepared to move into the assisted living apartment and that none of us really wanted any of the "stuff" she spent her lifetime accumulating.

“Those moments really brought home how unimportant stuff is,” she said. “But, as I continued to think and felt like I needed to answer you, I thought of this little, pink, rubber ball that I had as a young girl. With that ball my brothers and I, and my neighborhood friends and I, would play for hours outside making up all sorts of throwing and catching games. From that (and my mother's constant "go outside and play" mantra) came my love for being outside and playing! I made a career out of it (Mom was a physical education teacher for 20 plus years) and still find myself happiest when I'm outside playing.”

So, as you hurriedly finish your last minute shopping and as you sit amidst your family Christmas morning, make memories. They really do last a lifetime.

Merry Christmas Bluffton!

A Man on a Mission

Bluffton Today Column, December 15

His stature is imposing.

His posture alone reflects his years as a Citadel man.

He is a man that every resident of Bluffton should meet.

He’ll tell you that he is a Southern boy and that some of us will probably only understand 80% of what he says … we’ll struggle through his dialect for the other 20%.

He has a great sense of humor. When I asked him if I could write about him this week he replied, with a smile, “Have at it girl.”

He has an enormous job ahead of him.

He is Bill Workman, Bluffton Town Manager.

I had the opportunity to hear Bill speak earlier this week on the topic of leadership. As any true leader would, he credits others for helping to define his philosophy on leadership.

He believes that somebody has to call a meeting – and they are heroes. For Bill, Bob Dylan said it best, “I think of a hero as someone who understands the degree of responsibility that comes with his freedom.”

Bill will tell you that leaders are responsible for self and responsible for others and he quotes Henry Miller, “The ordinary man is involved in action, the hero acts. An immense difference.”

And, Bill will tell you that to be effective leaders, we must: create and maintain a sense of community, get along, listen to each other, create a sense of urgency, be courageous, be committed, and seize opportunity to impact our destiny.

The bottom line is that the leaders of our community, Bill included, want and appreciate our input. But, they also want us to be diligent in our research of issues, and drawn conclusions from the facts.

Bill told a great Jerry Clower story during his presentation, which I find incredibly relevant to Bluffton. (Clower is a comedian dubbed “The Mouth of the South” – this Northerner, of course, had never heard of him until this week.)

It seems that Uncle Versies learned that the church was fixin’ to spend some money. So, Uncle Versies headed over to the church to hear what they had to say. The church leader declared to the congregation “we need to spend the money on buying the church a new chandelier.” Uncle Versies stood up to state his objections and said …

First, why would we buy a chandelier when I reckon that no one in this congregation can even spell chandelier.

Second, if we were to get a chandelier I am quite certain that none of us would even know how to play it.

And third, why are we talking about spending all this money on a new chandelier when what we really need are some lights in the church sanctuary?


It is no secret that Bluffton is growing by leaps and bounds. It is also no secret that our residents are largely apathetic and reluctant to be involved in the process of our town’s evolution. We hear and read a lot of anonymous criticism, but when it is time to step up to the plate – attend a meeting, or vote – our numbers are dismal.

Bill’s philosophy on the growth of Bluffton and how to achieve sustainability is inspiring. But, rather than let you read it here I challenge you to attend a Town Council meeting, a Planning Commission meeting, a Historical Preservation meeting, a Hospitality Tax meeting and learn first hand how our Town Manager and our town officials are working toward a better Bluffton.

When asked why a 66 year old man would want to commit to this undertaking in Bluffton, Bill quotes his wife who says, “I married you for better or for worse, but not for lunch.” Bill’s smile fades to stoic as he continues, “I like to see a good plan come together. This is an adventure – vision plus action equals adventure. I want to be part of the adventure.

Homesick

Bluffton Today Column, December 8

Get out the record players because it is time for Courtney’s Broken Record Show. (Cue the Family Feud theme song.) Congratulations to the 13% of eligible voters in Bluffton who turned out for the local council elections on Tuesday. To the 87% who couldn’t muster the effort, I look forward to not hearing you complain until Election Day 2007.

Congratulations to Charlie Wetmore on his victory and thank you Charlie, for taking down your campaign signs immediately following the election. You kept your first promise and I look forward to your leadership in our town.

Moving on … as much I love Bluffton, living here, and being a part of the community, I can’t help but feel homesick at this time of the year. An email from my Aunt Maryalice back in Pennsylvania just before Thanksgiving started me on my annual “let’s move back North” campaign with Joe. Her email went like this …

“I'm remembering Thanksgiving's past ... when we were all together. You spent a few holidays in our home, and we traveled to yours. Our first Thanksgiving married, we were with your family in Brick (Mike was still eating baby food - he and Sharon sat next to each other in highchairs). One of my favorite Thanksgiving was 1997 - all of your family and mine were here. We celebrated the fact that Mike was in his first year of recovery … I loved watching all of you young cousins enjoying being with each other. And of course, two years ago when you and Joe came here ... I was so excited that you had moved closer to us. And now life is very different. The miles have grown, but really our love for you has never changed … now new traditions will grow. And we'll all find new ways to celebrate the holidays ... but the best is that the memories of holidays past, we get to keep.”

You are choked up right? And you don’t even know Aunt Maryalice. So, you can imagine how this email affected me. I cried when I first read it. I turned to Joe and told him that I wanted to move back home – I miss the family traditions, I miss our friends, and more than anything at this time of year I miss the weather, I miss the snow!

Ok, I know what you are thinking – move back home Courtney. But, please just read the rest of the story…

Since the temperatures here last week were still in the 70s and almost 80s I felt justified in my request to consider moving back to the cooler climates. I watched the news of impeding snow storms in the northwest and got misty-eyed. Until, snow almost ruined the day.

You see last Saturday Joe and I were attending a wedding. I panicked mid-week and decided that what I had in my closet would not do and I needed a new outfit. Fifteen minutes of midnight internet shopping later and I was set. I paid the extra $25 to expedite the shipping. When the package didn’t arrive as promised on Friday, I panicked. I called the shipping company to track the package and learned that my package had stalled in Chicago, where a pre-winter snow storm had stunned the city on Thursday. No phones, power outages, closed airports and my cashmere wrap was sitting in a box somewhere in a warehouse waiting for the weather to break.

I continued my desperate calls well into Friday night and learned that my package had made it out of the windy city and was en route to Savannah, but there was no way of knowing when it would arrive.

I woke up bright and early Saturday morning prepared to go shopping for appropriate wedding garb and was out and about when my cell phone rang. “Hi Courtney, this is Kenny at DHL in Savannah, I have your package in my hands would you like to come and pick it up?”

Impressive right? I have to imagine that with all of the shipping delays that occurred in the days prior that Kenny was probably up to his eyeballs in customer service back log. However, he picked up the phone and called me.

When I got to DHL I was met my Kenny, with a smile and a Southern drawl – “You have a great day ma’am.” As I left the DHL warehouse at the Savannah airport I noticed the hours posted on the door – Saturdays 10:00 a.m. – 12:00 p.m. It was 1:30 p.m., Kenny has stayed late for me. And I was misty-eyed once again.

So, I’m over my need for snow and once again in love with the Lowcountry, I don’t think you can find better people anywhere in the world.

Bobby

Bluffton Today column, November 30.

Last Friday Joe and I headed to the movies. It seems that the day after Thanksgiving is our standing “movie date” each year. We hadn’t been since last November when we went for some relief from the in-laws (mine), and this year it was simply to do something other than battle the Christmas shopping crowds.

We settled in at the Sea Turtle for an afternoon showing of Bobby.

Rather than critique the movie, the popcorn or the seats, I wanted to share with you some excerpts from the ending dialogue of the movie. For some, it will be the first time you’ve read or heard these words. For others, it may be a reminder of what once was. But, for all of us it is the scary truth that history can indeed repeat itself.

“This is a time of shame and sorrow. It is not a day for politics. I have saved this one opportunity, my only event of today, to speak briefly to you about the mindless menace of violence in America which again stains our land and every one of our lives.

It is not the concern of any one race. The victims of the violence are black and white, rich and poor, young and old, famous and unknown. They are, most important of all, human beings whom other human beings loved and needed. No one - no matter where he lives or what he does - can be certain who will suffer from some senseless act of bloodshed. And yet it goes on and on and on in this country of ours.

Why? What has violence ever accomplished? What has it ever created? No martyr's cause has ever been stilled by an assassin's bullet.

No wrongs have ever been righted by riots and civil disorders. A sniper is only a coward, not a hero; and an uncontrolled, uncontrollable mob is only the voice of madness, not the voice of reason.

Whenever any American's life is taken by another American unnecessarily - whether it is done in the name of the law or in the defiance of the law, by one man or a gang, in cold blood or in passion, in an attack of violence or in response to violence - whenever we tear at the fabric of the life which another man has painfully and clumsily woven for himself and his children, the whole nation is degraded.

"Among free men," said Abraham Lincoln, "there can be no successful appeal from the ballot to the bullet; and those who take such appeal are sure to lose their cause and pay the costs."

Yet we seemingly tolerate a rising level of violence that ignores our common humanity and our claims to civilization alike. We calmly accept newspaper reports of civilian slaughter in far-off lands. We glorify killing on movie and television screens and call it entertainment. We make it easy for men of all shades of sanity to acquire whatever weapons and ammunition they desire.

Too often we honor swagger and bluster and wielders of force; too often we excuse those who are willing to build their own lives on the shattered dreams of others. Some Americans who preach non-violence abroad fail to practice it here at home. Some who accuse others of inciting riots have by their own conduct invited them.
Some look for scapegoats, others look for conspiracies, but this much is clear: violence breeds violence, repression brings retaliation, and only a cleansing of our whole society can remove this sickness from our soul.

For there is another kind of violence, slower but just as deadly destructive as the shot or the bomb in the night. This is the violence of institutions; indifference and inaction and slow decay. This is the violence that afflicts the poor, that poisons relations between men because their skin has different colors. This is the slow destruction of a child by hunger, and schools without books and homes without heat in the winter.

This is the breaking of a man's spirit by denying him the chance to stand as a father and as a man among other men. And this too afflicts us all.

I have not come here to propose a set of specific remedies nor is there a single set. For a broad and adequate outline we know what must be done. When you teach a man to hate and fear his brother, when you teach that he is a lesser man because of his color or his beliefs or the policies he pursues, when you teach that those who differ from you threaten your freedom or your job or your family, then you also learn to confront others not as fellow citizens but as enemies, to be met not with cooperation but with conquest; to be subjugated and mastered.

We learn, at the last, to look at our brothers as aliens, men with whom we share a city, but not a community; men bound to us in common dwelling, but not in common effort. We learn to share only a common fear, only a common desire to retreat from each other, only a common impulse to meet disagreement with force. For all this, there are no final answers.

Yet we know what we must do. It is to achieve true justice among our fellow citizens. The question is not what programs we should seek to enact. The question is whether we can find in our own midst and in our own hearts that leadership of humane purpose that will recognize the terrible truths of our existence.

We must admit the vanity of our false distinctions among men and learn to find our own advancement in the search for the advancement of others. We must admit in ourselves that our own children's future cannot be built on the misfortunes of others. We must recognize that this short life can neither be ennobled or enriched by hatred or revenge.

Our lives on this planet are too short and the work to be done too great to let this spirit flourish any longer in our land. Of course we cannot vanquish it with a program, nor with a resolution.
But we can perhaps remember, if only for a time, that those who live with us are our brothers, that they share with us the same short moment of life; that they seek, as do we, nothing but the chance to live out their lives in purpose and in happiness, winning what satisfaction and fulfillment they can.

Surely, this bond of common faith, this bond of common goal, can begin to teach us something. Surely, we can learn, at least, to look at those around us as fellow men, and surely we can begin to work a little harder to bind up the wounds among us and to become in our own hearts brothers and countrymen once again.”

I’m not trying to make a political statement, just simply sharing the words of Robert F. Kennedy. Words that impacted me profoundly 38 years after they were first uttered. Think about it.

Excerpts from Robert F. Kennedy, The Mindless Menace of Violence

Local election hitting a sour note

In elementary school I participated in the school band. I can remember my parents making me practice “Mary Had a Little Lamb” over and over again. I also recall our Christmas concert, an ill-fated evening for one of the band members. We were well into the concert when Mr. Regney, our band director, could be heard whispering to young Bryan in the front row, “Play Bryan, play.”

Finally, we began to hear a squeak from Bryan. The squeak, however, was not from his violin strings, but instead the sound of his music stand being raised to hide his reddening face. Bryan had stage fright and tears running down his cheeks. He was mortified and worked diligently to maneuver that music stand in front of his face to spare himself some pain.

That was 20-something years ago and I remember that story often (it helps that we have it on videotape).

Ironically, local politics always makes me think about Bryan; he is now the public information officer for the town I grew up in. He is the mayor’s right-hand man and spends much of his time these days in the spotlight. And that is exactly where he belongs. In fact, all of our elected officials and their staff should be in the spotlight.

Now, what does Bryan have to do with Bluffton? For me Bryan is a symbol – he is the reason I try to be well informed, a responsibility that we should all share.

As Bluffton prepares for our local election on Dec. 5, I find myself wondering: Just who are the three candidates for Bluffton Town Council?

Other than some short bios on the candidates in the local papers, I haven’t seen these candidates out and about sharing their story or their desire to hold public office. Shouldn’t they be trying to gain our vote and educate us?

Willis Latham seems to have hit a minor bump in the road with questions regarding the reasons for his separation from the Bluffton Police Department after 10 years.
Willis, I beg you, send out a press release, stick a flier in my mailbox. Tell me something that will help me make my decision.

Thomas Heyward, where do you hang your hat? He tried a run once before, in 1998, but withdrew his name when it was realized that he wasn’t living in the Pine House in historic Bluffton. Second time is a charm?

Adding to my concern, I think a candidate should always ask themselves, “Have I ever failed to pay taxes when I was supposed to?” before deciding to run for office. If the answer is “no,” perhaps another career path should be considered. Mr. Heyward, how do you respond to someone who asks you this question?

From what I have seen, Charlie Wetmore has done the best job of educating the people. He has a Web site— charliewetmoreforcouncil.com - and although limited on content, you can get a sense for what Wetmore considers the important issues.

However, Wetmore has also blanketed the perimeter of my neighborhood (his neighborhood, too) with campaign signs, which I will admit has rubbed me the wrong way. (This becomes another issue and maybe fodder for another “what’s the deal with these POAs” column.)

If a winner was determined based on total campaign signs, Wetmore would win in a landslide. While a campaign sign offers name recognition it does not provide the cold, hard facts.

Bottom line? I long for good old-fashioned debates, public forums and grassroots, door-todoor campaigns. The “old days” allowed you to look a candidate in the eye, shake his hand and perhaps feel at ease.

There’s good news: The Hilton Head-Bluffton Chamber of Commerce and the League of Women Voters is hosting a candidates’ debate at 6 p.m. Wednesday at Bluffton High School.

Be diligent, Bluffton. Educate yourself. Get involved. And I challenge you — put North vs. South, illegal immigration, traffic patterns on U.S. 278 and Tom Kat’s wedding discussions on the shelf. Instead, spend the next 12 days learning about the candidates and asking questions.

Attend Wednesday’s debate.

Let’s make sure our elected officials and candidates are never caught hiding their faces again.

Puttin' on the Hits ...

“I’m all outta love
I’m so lost without you
I know you were right –
believin’ for so long
I’m all outta love …”

As I drove into work this morning I flipped the dial on the radio and was quickly transported back to the 1980s by singing these lyrics. There is nothing like a little Air Supply first thing in the morning to brighten your day. Seriously, singing Air Supply at the top of my lungs, brightens my day.

For thirty years I lived less than sixty miles from New York City and Philadelphia. You would think that with all of that art, culture, and theater at my finger tips I would be a culturally aware person. Sadly, I am not. No, I never visited Lincoln Center, Carnegie Hall or saw a Philharmonic performance. (I have however, been to every sports stadium and arena in the tri-state area.)

I only ventured to see a Broadway show three times in my adult years and I am embarrassed to say that two of the shows were renditions of two of my favorite movies – Grease and Footloose. Pretty lame, I know.

On the music scene I was vaguely more in tune with what my options were. After all, in my twenties I lived and worked just miles from two of Jersey’s favorite sons. I met Bruce Springsteen on a number of occasions and of course saw him play a sold out Giants Stadium in 2003. To top that, Jon Bon Jovi was the keynote speaker at the graduation ceremonies when I received my master’s degree and I am the proud owner a photograph of me and him together – me in my cap and gown and he with his big hair (it was still big then) blowing in his face.

Now that I am twenty-thirteen (that’s 33 for the English majors), I got to thinking. It wouldn’t hurt to introduce a little culture into my life. Lucky for me, Doug Barry, CEO of the Hilton Head Symphony Orchestra is one of my Leadership classmates, and he invited Joe and me to be his guests last weekend at the Orchestra’s “Big Band Bash.” The evening was a tribute to Frank Sinatra, which is how he sold me on the deal. Who doesn’t love Francis Albert, right?

The bash was held outdoors, under a tent at Honey Horn. You may recall that last Friday evening temperatures dipped into the low 40s, but the weather never fazed me or any of the four hundred other guests who came out for the event.

The Hilton Head Orchestra was amazing. I am definitely not a music expert (see Air Supply reference above) but I was entranced. I was sitting in the front row (thanks to my CEO contact – it really is all about who you know!) and was able to watch each musician and their process – the concentration on their faces, their furrowed brows, their toes tapping and even the trombone player’s use of the spit valve (amazing that he never hit his shoe).

Steve Lippia, a Connecticut native who started his career at four years old singing in his neighbor's, Mrs. Clemens, backyard had a startling voice – he sounded just like Frank. I have been to quite a few concerts in my day and I can honestly say that this is the first time I knew and loved every song that was sung. And of course, Steve finished his performance with “New York, New York” … and the crowd went wild. I guess even the natives enjoy a little reference to the Northeast now and again.

For more information about the Hilton Head Symphony Orchestra, please visit their website at www.hhsolive.org.


Courtney Naughton is a Jersey Shore native who relocated to Bluffton. She is often spotted in her car singing eighties tunes. To sing along, contact her at courtneynaughton@hargray.com.

Giving Thanks

Darts to me.

Yes, I’ll admit it. I am one of those “meanies” who turned out the lights and avoided the trick or treaters. Not because I have an aversion to Halloween (I do have an aversion to people decorating their houses for Halloween complete with orange lights strung from every tree and eave, but that is another column all together), but because I have an over-protective dog who barks at (and scares) anyone who rings the bell. We like that our dog is protective, so rather than punish Darby on Halloween, we walk five houses down the street to my mom’s and we give out candy there.

Whew. I feel better getting that off my chest.

So, now that Halloween is in the bag, so to speak, we look toward Thanksgiving. I can’t believe it is a mere three weeks away. Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. It is one of the few holidays where gifts are not exchanged and the purpose is truly getting together with the ones you love and I take it seriously. Every since I received my November issue Martha Stewart Living in early October, I have been plotting the perfect day. My menu is set and my strict preparation schedule is in place.

I love entertaining and nothing makes me happier than seeing our house overflowing with people – enjoying good food, good drink and good friends. This year however, I am sad to report that the current status of my Thanksgiving table is a mere four chairs. My sister and family are traveling back to New Jersey, friends have new houses and new kitchens that they plan to utilize this year – so it looks like it may just be four of us. Four people for Thanksgiving is unacceptable in my mind – I need noise, activity, excitement. No offense Mom and Bob, but I still feel the need for more.

My original plan was to hold an essay contest “What I Would Bring to Courtney’s House for Thanksgiving Dinner” for the readers and I’d pick the winning essay to come to my house for Thanksgiving dinner. That idea lasted about three seconds. Thank you Joe for bringing me back to reality. (Although I must say I would still be interested in some response – it will, I am sure, make for great reading.)

Anyway, in an effort to bring some additional meaning to Thanksgiving this year, Joe and I decided to provide Thanksgiving dinner for a local family who would otherwise not be able to afford to put a feast on the table. Through Bluffton Self Help, Joe and I will receive the name and details about a Bluffton family in need. We will talk with the family before hand to find out their food favorites and determine what they need and then just prior to Turkey Day we will deliver to them a turkey and all the fixins to make their Thanksgiving Day one worth celebrating.

Looking for some hearts? Adopting a family for Thanksgiving will certainly earn you some points in my book. It is easy to do. Call Bluffton Self Help at 843.757.8000 and ask how you can help.

About Bluffton Self Help –
In 1987, a group of concerned Bluffton citizens under the leadership of Mrs. Ida Martin banded together and formed Bluffton Self Help, a non profit organization. Mrs. Martin and other residents discovered that many families and individuals in their community were struggling to meet their basic needs. Bluffton Self Help sought to respond to the needs of these families and individuals living in Bluffton. Since then, Bluffton Self Help has served countless individuals including adults and children, who otherwise may have continued to struggle to make ends meet.

The mission of Bluffton Self Help is to help those individuals in the greater Bluffton area, who are in need of short-term emergency assistance, by providing them with basic human needs (food, clothing, shelter, medicine) and encouraging them to be self-reliant.

For more details visit www.blufftonselfhelp.org or stop in their offices at 1264 May River Road.


Courtney Naughton is a Jersey Shore native who relocated to Bluffton. Submissions to the “What I Would Bring to Courtney’s House for Thanksgiving Dinner” Essay Contest can be sent to courtneynaughton@hargray.com.