My wife and I arrived in Charleston on a chilly December afternoon to celebrate our honeymoon, years ago. The city was decorated for Christmas. Garland hung from each balcony, lamppost, stray dog, and politician. We rolled into town listening to “Danny’s Song” on my truck radio.
The song goes:
“Even though we ain’t got money,
“I’m so in love with you honey…”
Nobody can hear this song and not sing along. Not even hardened war criminals can restrain themselves from humming with Kenny Loggins when he breaks into the chorus.
Anyway, Charleston is an immaculate place. And charming. To small-town folks, the city can almost seem intimidating. This is especially true if you are like me and the most cultured city you’re familiar with is, for instance, Dothan.
People kept telling us that Charleston is the second most historic city in the world (Rome, Italy, is the first). They said this wherever we went. Even at the Waffle House where our waitress was a tired woman with the personality of a boiled ham.
She said, “Did
you know we’re the second most historic city in the world?”
“No, I didn’t know that.”
“You will when you see how much things cost.”
So you can imagine how exhilarating it was to learn all the history that has happened within the city. We were constantly pointing and shouting, “Hey! George Washington slept in THAT building!”
Or, “Hey! Garth Brooks walked his Shih Tzu on THAT grassy lawn!”
Or, “Hey! Thomas Jefferson used to buy his lottery tickets and cigarettes at THAT convenience store!”
The city has a very uppity feel. Average residents of Charleston dress to the nines, even when they check the mail. Wherever we were, it seemed like everyone was wearing pearls, chenille, and high heels. And that was just the men.
Downtown we saw the Gullah women weaving sweetgrass baskets. Most of these women were sitting beside large…