Voices from the Lowlands – What Defines Compliance?

When considering a topic for my next Mercury column, I envisioned light, uplifting speech infused with humor and light-hearted wit. For those who managed to peruse my previous work, it should be quite obvious that I am creatively inspired by the trials and tribulations of life. This time, he was determined to shift gears and invoke laughter from the reader.

“I really CAN do this,” I thought, as I embarked on a creative journey with my yellow pad and pen, searching for joyful themes and images, eager to transform my typically intense and melancholic writer’s voice into an air sonata. ethereal. optimism. I humbly admit that I have created another moving narrative capable of bringing even the most grumpy, cynical, and jaded editor to tears. I have resigned myself to the fact that I am incapable of writing about anything joyful. I am happily challenged as an author; hopelessly captivated by the deep and complex side of human nature.

Maybe it’s the psychologist in me that gravitates toward human complexity. However, to be fair, I must place at least some of the blame on the genuine, brave, and caring people who agreed to share their heartwarming stories with a sweaty, nosy stranger (this Mercury writer was dumb enough to pose as a roving reporter when a different kind of mercury was rising to a scorching 100 degrees).

Suffering from a classic case of writer’s block and chronic procrastination that I choose to chalk up to heat exhaustion, I decided to ditch my writing schedule and venture to the nearest Starbucks for late afternoon coffee. As I sat down to my large iced latte and enjoyed my escape from the hell blazing outside, I found myself deep in impromptu conversation with a gracious and very expressive older gentleman.

This random stranger shared heartfelt words of wisdom and inadvertently released my previously blocked creative voice. He said most young people make the unfortunate mistake of abandoning precious opportunities for adventure, spontaneity and carefree exuberance in favor of a relentless pursuit of material wealth. He suggested that material wealth ceases to have value once a person is too old to enjoy it, saying that now, reflecting on his life, he finds peace and fulfillment not in material possessions like the sailboat he is lucky enough to live on. but in the good memories. He joked about how most people are too old to enjoy a boat like his when they finally save enough money to pay for it. He urged me to enjoy the present moment and have fun now that I am still young enough to experience life. When he left, I was tempted to buy a one-way ticket to Bora Bora.

I began feverishly recording the details of my encounter with this elder man of wisdom and decided to interview local people at various stages of life and asked each person to imagine the same scenario: Travel years into the future, look back at the life and ask the future self if inner peace and fulfillment were found.

Nearly delusional from wandering in the scorching sun and desperate to find somewhere else with air conditioning, I stumbled upon a kids’ gym and found a handful of heat-battered moms apparently looking for some cool respite from the crazy carpet rats. Feeling like a skunk coming out of a sewer, I begged a mother to agree to an interview about life’s life choices and the definition of contentment. It was here that I heard the story of Audrey, a 34-year-old housewife, former teacher, and mother of two young children.

Audrey lost her father on United Flight 93; hers was one of the many families torn apart by 9/11. About a week before the birth of her first child, Audrey’s father left California for a brief business trip, promising to return home in time for the birth of his grandchild. Although Audrey’s children never met her grandfather in her physical form, she finds comfort in the belief that her connected souls might have intersected somehow, in that great space between here and there.

Through her pain and despair, Audrey has found solace in her faith and the vital influence of prayer. She honors the memory of her father by dedicating herself to her family, walking God’s way and striving to provide her children with the legacy of her grandfather’s love and a strong sense of her family values. She described being at a life crossroads several years ago, when she was faced with the decision of moving to Charleston with her husband, leaving behind the familiar comforts of home, family and friends in California, or risking her marriage by being left behind. . When asked how she found her way through the fog of ambivalence and confusion, Audrey replied that she turned to prayer and that she did what was right for her marriage and her family. Audrey states that she is a woman who has found peace and fulfillment through faith and family, and that she is satisfied with her life choices.

Then, I stumbled across Dog and Duck and found myself sitting across from Clinton, a 35-year-old, divorced and soon-to-be-remarried beer salesman, welcoming the start of his weekend with some friends and a cold beer. Clinton is a father of two and a former education student who dropped out after a physical injury. Like Audrey, Clinton found herself at a life crossroads as he was faced with the decision of whether to return to school to complete his education or maintain the comfortable lifestyle provided by his high-paying job. He admitted that although he enjoys his material comforts, he regrets his decision not to return to school to complete his education. Clinton doesn’t feel he is “paying a debt to society” through his chosen work, and he hopes one day his children will follow his true passion instead of the path of least resistance. He said the success of his children will be her “measuring stick” for his life fulfillment, saying, “I feel like I held back because of my monetary values.”

My last stop was Hassie’s makeshift kiosk at the corner of 17 North and Houston Northcutt. Known to most Lowcountry residents for his unwavering stamina and his constant presence on the very corner of the street, Hassie, 56, has inspired many writers over the years. With a degree in computer technology and a previous career as a university professor, Hassie has survived the loss of a child, two divorces, and the care of his elderly mother. A family-oriented man and father of three, Hassie defines achievement as his ability to see his children grow and stay healthy. He values ​​strong ethics, spirituality, and family relationships. Recently, he has experienced a deeper connection with his elderly mother. Hassie exclaimed, “My greatest achievement in life is my healthy children. I’m happy because I’m alive and not in a situation I can’t get out of.” Asked how he finds the strength to endure standing in the unrelenting heat for hours every day, he replied: “You can’t take credit if you don’t survive.” He threw back his head and laughed, stating that part of the secret to his happiness was “getting rid of the handcuffs.” Speaking of his love for his children, Hassie said, “They know I’m always there for them; as long as they don’t call me collect, it’s all good.”

I venture to assume that the prevailing outlook of these four very different Lowcountry residents on life fulfillment and inner peace is likely an accurate reflection of the sentiment of our society as a whole. Strong family values, healthy children, faith, honor, physical health, and the ability to enjoy the present moment all seem to take precedence over material wealth and the accumulation of physical possessions. These four Lowcountryers taught me that it is not the inevitable loss, trauma, hardship, or despair that we humans must endure throughout life that blocks our path to fulfillment, but how we come out of these events, our continued ability to persist in the face of adversity, and our willingness to celebrate the blessings that lie before us. When saying goodbye, always remember Hassie’s prudent motto: “You can’t attribute if you don’t survive.”