Until we woke up and found ourselves in the middle of a pandemic, many of us were not aware of the importance of human touch.
We went though our lives not realizing that the pat on the shoulder, touch of the hand or hug from an old friend were so vital to our existence.
We took being close to others for granted.
We never thought that showing affection could result in death if we don’t wash our hands.
Now we are afraid to breathe in air expelled by another.
We are afraid to pick up our children or grandchildren.
It has been quite a year.
The fear implies a coldness as otherwise friendly and warm people become distant as we all scorn each other.
We have coined new phrases like pre- and post-corona, as we talk about what we hope to do or places we will go when the virus is gone.
In the meantime, we try not to be close to people, including the ones that we love.
We crave to congregate, socialize and reciprocate caring.
We meet digitally but it isn’t the same. It placates us in the meantime, like smelling food would really keep us from starving.
Most of us want to be touched, not just by the words of an article.
Let’s look forward to the days when it will be safe to greet each other with a hug and safely practice the art of touching.
Protect island forest
Every Mount Pleasant resident and member of town council should be concerned about the Sullivan’s Island plan to cut part of the maritime forest.
Hurricane Hugo hit in 1989 before this controversy and before the property was put in a trust in 1991 that would protect the land that was accreting.
There was no maritime forest to speak of, nothing to stop the water from washing over not only Sullivan’s Island but also a lot of low-lying Mount Pleasant land.
The losses were devastating.
The land was put in the trust primarily to protect the land from the ravages of the storms.
With all the development since then, this protection is needed more than ever, with the support of the citizens and government of Mount Pleasant as a priority.
Other side of moon
From our position on Earth, we only ever see one side of the moon.
This does not mean there is no other side. The moon’s other side is not dark, but rather unknown to any of us who have not yet turned to astronomers for a more enlightened perspective.
Post and Courier reporter Jennifer Berry Hawes has taken us on a truly enlightening, evidence-based voyage to some of the more unknown features of Charleston’s history, revealing that, like the other side of moon, the other side of our history also has a more battered appearance.
Hawes’ story in the Nov. 15 edition does not negate the contributions of any who have made Charleston special.
Instead, she adopts a “Yes, and” approach, challenging us to consider other important perspectives and strengths in a dynamic narrative vetted by experts from the South Carolina Historical Society, Avery Research Center, Charleston County Public Library, Historic Charleston Foundation and others.
Hawes’ “Forsaken History” opens a portal into the social, political and economic contradictions that exist in our city’s history and policies, and yes, the only side of ourselves that most tourists are guided to see.
While the tidal pull of confirmation bias is strong, disrupting comforting belief systems can create stresses and challenges that lead to growth and a path toward wholeness and healing.
One of the repeated themes in previous editions of The Post and Courier is the alarming growth of residential developments on Johns Island.
Feature stories, letters to the editor and opinion columns outline the dangers and unwanted developments that would house families and human beings.
Meanwhile, the outrageous number of new storage facilities multiplies unabated.
No outcry, no alarm and not one voice of opposition from the community.
This makes me believe that destroying the rural environment to store excessive property and possessions is OK, but just don’t build homes for new residents because all of those extra possessions need more space.
Bears Bluff Road
Chimney to fountain
It’s one thing to destroy artistic monuments made out of granite and stone because of our troubled history, but to spend up to $3 million to preserve aged chimney smokestacks is preposterous.
What is the historical significance of something that exhausted smoke and ash into the skies?
When this incinerator was originally proposed, I believe that there was a public outcry in building it at its present location.
Given the proposed location, the mayor and city council likely did not offer any consideration to the mostly poor and working-class people living in the neighborhood.
And now do we really want to spend millions to preserve what is, in reality, brick exhaust pipes?
It’s nice to preserve history, but we must draw the line as to what to preserve. I don’t think it’s a good idea to spend the excessive amount of money on the incinerator’s exhaust chimneys.
If the city wishes to preserve them, here is an artistic idea:
Save the top 10 feet of the chimneys, which include the flared dental-type accent, move it to ground level and devise two fountains. Place them in a small park at their original location.
It would be more visually appealing to have water spraying out of the chimneys, as opposed to its original purpose of emitting smoke and ash into the sky.
I ask Charleston Mayor John Tecklenburg and City Council members to consider the water fountain idea.
The residents of downtown Charleston will appreciate it.