The Bed, The Fort, and The Forgiveness

The Foley House, Savannah, Georgia

We have been continuing our exploration down the east coast of the U.S.A. and finding it very different from the west coast. The long, seemingly slow moving waves of the Pacific are replaced by the crashing vibrancy of the Atlantic, but the relationship with the water seems different. While there are places of surf and sun worship out west, it is not nearly on the scale as it is here. Atlantic City and its ilk are only the beginning. While there have been times when we are left mostly to ourselves to enjoy the scenery and the occasional glimpse of the ocean over the protective barriers, natural and otherwise, but we are rarely alone. We are often in very affluent neigbourhoods admiring the houses on stilts which are built very tall so as to afford some view of the ocean. People are constantly crossing the street on their way to the beach; chair, towel, and brood of children in tow.

Crossing the Chesapeake Bridge Tunnel was an engineering treat. Instead of a long bridge which a very high centre, of which there are plenty in this area, we go under the water into a tunnel…twice. It was very cool.

Eric and I are not beach people, but we did take some to walk along the surf.

We spent Wednesday night in Greenville. We wanted to get away from the coast in order to bring the cost of accommodations down. Eric was thrilled with our motel as it was so cheap he could give them ready cash. Not sure what the hourly rate was. Our air conditioning consisted of two settings: Baffin Island January and off. The bed was the worst. It was soft and bouncy and a double.

A double.

Eric and I on a double bed.

I made a joke about accidental sex and then tried to sleep. Every time I move Eric almost flew off the bed and hit the wall. Every time Eric moved I found a foot up my nose. I think I slept three hours at the most.

We moved on and made our way to Charleston, South Carolina. We visited the Fort Sumter National Historic Monument. It was here that the opening volleys of the Civil War was fought. There was a nice little display and many tales were told, but my favourite actually took place years after the end of the American Civil War.

When Fort Sumter fell to Confederate forces, the union took the US flag down and retreated. When the war was over there was a ceremony that raised the American flag over the fort once again. It was called a ReUnion Ceremony and signified the end of internal strife within The United States. In one of those moments where history seems to have a twisted sense of humour, this event occurred on the day that Lincoln was shot.

But the best bit happens fifty years later when there is a celebration and, as always seems to occur when the Civil War is concerned, a re-enactment. The surviving Confederate soldiers line up outside the fort and take on the battlements again. Inside, the surviving Union soldiers wait as they once did years before. When they could wait no more, they surprised everyone and rushed out of the fort and crashed into the approaching Confederates. Instead of fighting, the two sides tearfully embraced as brothers.

We left the fort memorial and found out that mere blocks away from this historic site is the AME church that made tragic headlines recently as the Charleston church that had been the victim of a mass shooting.

As we drove by we saw the many cards and letters and flowers left by those who, like us, wished to express their respects. But there was one large poster that took primary focus. This was not left by a well-wisher but by the congregation. A message to us all.

“Forgive Others As We Have Been Forgiven.”