The Island

We have one of the most beautiful views in the world from our deck. We overlook a section of Douglas Lake, with English Mountain in the background. Just east of that are hills that roll up to the Great Smoky Mountains National Park, and we can see the range from Mt. Cammerer to Mt. LeConte. In the winter there is snow on the peaks. If I ever left here, I would miss the mountains.
But....

I love Hilton Head Island. So much, in fact, that Anne and I just bought slots in an outdoor columbarium at a church on the Island, so that our ashes can rest under live oaks, Spanish moss, and palmetto trees within the sound of the ocean.

We first started going there when Anne's folks retired and built a house in Sea Pines in the mid 70's. Our kids grew up going to the Island two or three times a year--swimming, riding bikes, hanging out in Harbor Town and listening to Greg Russell sing John Denver songs (and the all popular "Booger Snot") under the big oak tree across from the lighthouse. Greg is still performing for the second and third generations. Naturalist Todd Ballentine taught us about marsh life and its biological chain, and about the dolphins who buried their dead in the caves of Port Royal Sound.

On our first trip we crossed a two lane draw bridge across the Inland Waterway, got lost on the way to Sea Pines, had to loop all the way around Skull Creek to get to the Island's other end, and realized that we "weren't in Kansas" any more. It was absolutely beautiful.

Today the bridge is a sweeping four lane affair that hop-scotches over Pinckney Island Wildlife Refuge and joins a cross-island toll way that by-passes the business district along highway 278. Traffic can be a nightmare during major tourist seasons. There are more restaurants and night-spots, and the bike trails are more crowded. But the Island has not lost its ambience. This is due mainly to the foresight of the local leadership who planned ahead with strict zoning and building codes, not to mention that there are a number of gated communities that enforce their own rules and do their own landscaping. Anne's Dad died several years ago, and her Mom moved into a retirement community mid-island, so we no longer have free access to Sea Pines--we either scrounge or pay for a pass. But we still love the place.

So why not retire there? Aside from the obvious fact that we probably can't afford it, there are a couple of other reasons:

1) Hilton Head Island means vacation. I have a custom of rolling down the car window and smelling the sea and the marsh when we cross the bridge. My breathing eases. My mind relaxes. I am Home for a season. I know that Anne and I are going to walk on the beach and evaluate our lives and make plans. But Anne and I have a fear that if we lived there, we would lose all that. The place would no longer be special. And that is something we don't want to lose. Better for it to be a unique get-away and stay its special self.

2) Hilton Head is memories. We planned our lives and dealt with crises at home sitting on the beach or bobbing in the surf. We watched two children grow up. The sizes of the bikes we strapped to the roof of the van changed. The distance they rode them grew. There was the time they wanted to take friends and go places without Mom and Dad. I see them through all the subtle changes of their lives whenever I am there. I also see the persons that Anne and I were then, sitting on that beach thirty, twenty, ten years ago. The changes on the Island are hardly noticeable when compared to the memories that don‘t change. Somehow living there would be an attempt to hold to a past that can only be visited.

Of course, if we suddenly struck it rich, I might renege on my reasons for staying where we are. But for now, we'll settle for long weekends and a summer vacation.