September 7, 2025

I’d gotten in the habit of calling journeys uneventful, but the one home from the beach was not. D fell in a rest stop toilet stall. He himself makes very little public complaint about such events, so one hesitates to make complaint on his behalf, but it is a wrong and terrible thing, and God and I strove on my front porch in the dark last night about it. My task was to dead lift him off the floor. My fear was that, in these diminished times, I couldn’t do it. Turns out I could. It was good to be home. I could scarcely walk for driving all that time. We’d watched a TV program about a 4 day fast which is meant to do one worlds of good. At 8 PM on our last night on the beach I opened a can of water, drank it, and began my fast. It is 38 hours later and I’m holding good, and not particularly hungry. 

Attended service at First Congregational, I suppose to honor old times at Emmanuel U C of C. I was greeted to within an inch of my life. Very elderly church, full of good will and good intentions. After that– or including that– a strange sadness about the day, maybe less sadness than an aura of valediction. Several activities and concerns of my life hovered before me as if made of smoke, and I brushed them away. . . never again. . . never again. . . .

46 hours fasting and still going strong, though probably if there were anybody to notice, I’d be grumpy. I did this sort of thing long ago, but feared to do it as an old man. Seems to be having no unexpected consequences. 

 September 5, 2025

Amazing that the record doesn’t get very far as, literally speaking, there’s nothing that should interrupt, but things do. One wanders to the pier and writes one’s poems. One remembers how mediocre the blood Marys are, but orders one anyway. One is patient, so a grackle comes and perches on the table. One sits on the balcony before the others bestir and writes one’s poems. One tries to recover from the giant meals. We go to Jack of Cups for a lovely lunch. One tips lavishly. We sit on the hotel terrace having cocktails. Lovely Olivia, a senior at the College of Charleston, waits on us. She’s afraid to open the Prosecco, so we do it ourselves. One hears of goings-on in far places.

Evening: the blues and pinks settle over the pale sand, the blaze of sun quieting. L and J left this morning after a bit of breakfast.  A day of lounging, overeating, staring at the sea, quite successful napping. I am wild to be home, wild for it to be this time tomorrow. The sea is useless to me unless I am alone.The immensities are useless to me unless I am alone. The ways in which these junkets at the shore are a “vacation” are mysterious to me. To me it is a narrowing and a deprivation– except for the vast and profound presence of the sea itself. To keep myself in check is the task. With my sister’s help, I think I succeeded this time. Maybe not again. It’s too late in the day for me to try to deceive myself about myself.  

Dolphin

 September 4, 2025

Amazing dreams last night, extended, cinematic. Watching a dolphin cross my entire field of vision, left to right. 

 September 3, 2025

Early up and on the road with L and J to the ferry to Fort Sumter. A red-shouldered hawk presided over the waiting area for the boat. Brief ride, brief visit to a place of significance.

Yorktown

 September 2, 2025

Yesterday I turned 75. The number is shocking, but the feeling is not different from any other day. I shamed the group into taking me to the South Carolina Aquarium. Lovely. All the animals were strangely charismatic.  A wild osprey perched on the mesh over an outdoor display, wondering how to get into the voluptuous bounty clearly visible below him.  A snapping turtle swam to me and leaned against the glass as long as I stood there. Maybe it was affection. Maybe it was the color of my shirt. J and L arrived. We had dinner together, then came back to the condo and socialized more successfully than I had imagined. The half moon spread a wide highway of silver across the sea. It will be wider and brighter tonight. 

We went to the carrier Yorktown. It was deeply moving, as I had not expected it to be, the valor and sacrifice and the bright-eyed youth gone under the waves for an America that is, for the moment, lost. I stood and sobbed, as I don’t remember doing before in public. Dolphins passed under the bridge that led to the boat. 

 August 31, 2025

Blazing morning on a blazing sea. 

Wrote a little on the balcony, then walked to the pier and finished writing the poem there. Expectable and lovely beach scenes, cocktails and lunch. 

I watch my companions scroll their cell phone. It’s the most of what I do, unless I get up, walk the beach or the streets, the same things I’d do if I were here by myself.

 

August 30, 2025

Folly Beach, after a long drive so uneventful I had to struggle not to sleep. Lunch at at the Bohemian Bull, groceries bought. The sea from our balcony stands rough in a variety of grays, same as the ruffled sky.