No matter where I go...

If those who forget the past are condemned to repeat it, then I may be safe.  This upstate, tri-county area of South Carolina and the years of my past spent here is etched across the stained glass of my life.  Touch me, read it like a Braille diary of heart and soul.

I remember when Central was just a place to get great hot dogs and burgers and play pinball while Dad talked to his buddies.  We watched movies on Tuesdays for fifty cents when there was a theater "uptown" in Clemson.  Then came the Astro and Manifest records.  We skated at Hollands or Skateland USA.  For a real treat, we went to the closest McDonald's in Anderson and then on to the mall or Belvedere Plaza.

A love of the outdoors blossomed along the banks of the Chattooga, the shores of Hartwell and Keowee, and the many trails and creeks in this golden tinged corner of the Blue Ridge.  I recall Burrell's Ford, Hell's Hole, Whitewater Falls, Issaqueena, the Sailing Club, South Cove, Twin Lakes, Friendship and Coneross.

As the years meandered, so did the small towns, inching ever closer to one another.  Chanelo's and Time Inn and the Steakhouse and Betty's and Mac's Drive In and Yousef's and Bantam Chef and Lucky Strike and Blakes's fed me.  A fake ID and Tiger Town Tavern and Tiger Den and the pool hall and Study Hall entertained me.  Stumphouse, Jocassee, Highlands, Pisgah Forest, and Chau Ram all fueled my dreams.

I remember the world stopping for one brief instant before I dropped from the Clemson rope swing.  I remember jumping from bridges into the cool waters of Hartwell.  I remember snake doctors flitting around the creeks and leeches in the rivers.  I remember smoking and dipping areas at school and Maryland Fried Chicken.

There were cults in Issaqueena and at least one crazy witch living mysteriously in every neighborhood.  Neighborhoods.  Adams, Normandy Shores, Singing Pines, Bayshore, Camelot, Keowee Key, White Oak Cliffs, the Mill Hill, Perry Hill, Port Santorini, Friendship.

Southern Bell was not BellSouth; payphones were readily available and a call would cost you ten cents.  Bergen's and Judge Kellers and GQ and Garrett's clothed me when Mom didn't feel like going to Swirl and buying fabric to sew.  I was glad she stopped designing my clothes when I turned eight, but I thought she should have stopped when I was old enough to walk.

Fuel and the evening's supplies required a stop at Don's or Red Diamond or Fast Fare or 7-11 or Hop's One Stop or Bountyland.  Charlie T's and Sharon's Cafe, Homecoming and Tigerama, Oktoberfest and bluegrass at Cousins.... When I hear John Lennon's "Woman" or Kenny Roger's "Lady" and so many other songs, I can hear the voice-over, "Couples skate."  In my mind, the lights dim, and hearts beat in unison loudly enough to muffle the sounds of the whole world. 

And the whole world was right here.  IS right here.  Home.  All my stories and dreams and steps have some of this blood running through their veins, powering the next story and the next dream and the next step.  I have resided in a dozen different places.  I have always lived here.