More Storms Are Coming
Things to Think About, a Reminiscence and an Ongoing Look at the Ongoing (Emerging?) Murdaugh Morass
I was at the car wash the other day, waiting for them to honk my car’s horn to summon me to tip and leave and there was a cute kid and his mother sitting next to me. We were on a sort of platform and it was a nice, breezy day. The child was maybe 8 or 9 and was paying close attention to the folks across the way who were buffing and shining and inspecting here and there. They honked for me and I got up to go.
The kid looked up at me and said, “Hey Mister, do you know what getting your car wash is?”
“Well, I think it’s getting it all cleaned up.”
“Nope, it’s your car getting its teeth brushed.”
“You know kid, I think you are exactly right.”
Well, that nailed that. Art Linkletter would have been proud Kids do say the darndest things.
Now, a further reference to tipping. I have a rule that to me has become inviolable-of course, I older and am in pretty shape considering all things. I have more than most. Let’s see if this might work for you, at least to a degree more substantive when compared to what you usually do. I’m asking you to stretch a little bit more than you normally do and to make it a regular habit.
I overtip almost anyone who is helping me with service. This is not a comprehensive list but a good place to start.
Valet parkers, bartenders, servers, baggage handlers, UPS, Fed Ex, Uber, UberEats. And of course there are many more.
It’s a win-win game.
You treat them with generosity; they, in return, remember you and give you better service. And you are doing something Kind-that really counts!
You can live without the few extra bucks and in almost every instance, it’s really helpful to them as they don’t have your resources and need to make car payments and buy gas and pay their rent.
It’s a nice variation on ‘Pay it forward’. And it also, if done regularly, rubs off into all sorts of nice improvements to attitude and manners and during these days we can use all of that we can get.
And besides, at the end of the day when you are getting ready to take your big Dirt Nap, you’re not going to be tabulating the extra green you put out; not a chance; No, you’ll have the very engrained memory that you were extra nice to a lot of people and that they appreciated you; they probably won’t remember you but you’ll be in their minds for sure. Try it. You’ll like it.
(Y’all didn’t know I have soft spots here and there, did you…?)
We lost the great comedian Norm Macdonald last week. He was one of the most creative, improvisational, dry, witty performers and at times too, brilliantly inappropriate and acerbic. He was the consummate Pro’s Pro. He had decade-long struggle with cancer and was very private about it-no public pity party for him. He wrote and narrated his biography, BASED ON A TRUE STORY, just before the cancer diagnosis was made and true to form, he did not hang back or pull or soften punches. I am listening to it now. Plenty of comedy and plenty of serious thought too. He opens the narrative by sharing some government grade morphine with Lorne Michaels in his first interview for becoming part of the cast of SNL. He got canned by Don Ohlmyer at Saturday Night Live because Norm made ‘too many OJ Simpson jokes’ despite Ohlmyer’s directives that he stop such impertinances. (Donnie O was tight with OJ and partied with him after he was acquited - Donnie O wasn’t gonna have his celebrity NFL star and slasher arm candy flash belittled). Norm went on The View once and started a row by saying that President Clinton was a criminal. Bobawahwah Waters almost had a stroke. He was politically incorrect before most of us had any idea what that was. He was a cat. And, he was a serious gambler and loved games of chance and got wiped out many a time. He was a edge walker.
His book is good and entertaining. Try it.
Lastly, go to YouTube and find the 7 minute version of his MOTH joke as told to Conan O’Brien many years ago on late night television. I swear there is nothing comparable. RIP Norm MacD.
You were a Big HOSS!
The following is a good thing to always remember if you live in these parts. This is called ‘Don’t Forget’ because something like this is going to happen again. We are due.
This month is the 32nd anniversary of Hurricane Hugo. Many of you don’t remember her. (I suppose Hugo could be a female appellation…) In all events, she was no lady! She busted us up bad down this way and then as a runaway freight train with a brain, she plowed on through South Carolina and North Carolina, the Virginias and on into New England where she finished her wrecking and flooding and drowning in Rhode Island. When she crossed over the dead center of Fort Sumter in Charleston, she was as bigger than the entire state of Georgia. She built up as she came on into a ferocious Category Five.
Remember, back then we had only the most rudimentary ‘early warning’ systems. No cell phones, no Weather Channel-we had one local weatherman named Charlie Hall who just wept and went off the air. Helpful. We just knew ‘it’ was out there. The so called ‘computer models’ of the day were the equivalent of rubbing sticks together to make fire. We had evacuated way over to Greenwood, south of Greenville and east of Athens. We were holed up at a place called the Inn on the Square. The I on the S had a really good looking bartender with a big snake draped around her neck. Usually the snake I suppose could be offputting but that night, the total emphasis was on liquor. The place a slam full of folks running from the storm, unsure refugees who were drinking as hard as they could and it all broke down into pretty much four tribes, each hoping some other tribes home ground got hammered. That night, in the bar and the restaurant, we were cheek to jowl and the winds were already pushing 80 mph + and howling outside.
The choices for destruction were Savannah, Charleston, Myrtle Beach and Wilmington and as the storm seemed to wiggle one way and look like it was headed to Myrtle Beach, the rest would cheer and urge it on. And then it would shake off in a different direction and the cheering of others would turn to fear and sadness.
And finally, Hugo punched Charleston right in the mouth. It was a knockout punch. I headed to bed, shaking my head. My family silently followed me. There was nothing we could do. We were helpless.
Over the next many days, we were captive. We couldn’t go home. Interstate 26 was blocked by thousands of felled trees. The Marines came up from Parris Island to clear the way. All telephone service was kaput. It was dreadfully hot and humid. Gasoline and food were in short supply.
My brother from North Carolina chartered a helicopter, picked up a mutual friend in Spartanburg and then they came to Greenwood to get me. We then flew over my brother’s place in Litchfield-looked great save for the roof being ripped off and the second floor having collapsed into the first. Then over to Garden City where our Spartanburg friend’s place had been for years-it was gone-not a trace was left. Then down to Isle of Palms where our place had been on Ocean Boulevard. As we got closer we could see that while the house initially looked pretty good, it became obvious that the storm surge had picked it and slammed it back down, breaking it in half-total loss.
My law office was closed for 3 weeks-no power-National Guardsmen patrolled the streets for over a month, there was an early curfew. Courthouse and public offices ruined and closed. ’m just scratching the surface here. This was traumatic with a Capital T. It took a long, long time to deal with all this but we did.
So here’s the lesson. Make sure all the insurance you have is properly in place. Have plenty of supplies and food and water to sustain you as you get out. Have a place to go that is far from the storm. Have a checklist of things to take with you-checkbooks, tax returns, financial records, photograph albums and family pictures, enough clothing, family keepsakes. Take lots of pictures of your home, inside and out.
And then, go on and get the Hell out!
Be early too because traffic will get bad faster than you can imagine.
This is a game you do not want to play. You’ll lose.
Lastly, let us briefly consider the ongoing Murdaugh Murder Mess. This is never going to get ‘better’; It is most assuredly going to get worse, much worse. In all my many years - 45+ of them spent in courthouses around the state including Hampton County more than a few times, I have never seen anything like this. So far 6!! Different SLED investigations open and running at full speed and we are told there will be more to come. If there is any indication that money has been wired across state lines, then here come the Feds.The specter of not just lawyers but more than a few Judges in the crosshairs of the cesspool. Tens of Millions of dollars missing. Where did it all go? How many people are involved. So many lives ruined and many more to come. A lot of people have suggested to me that I write a book, write extensively about this train wreck. I am disinclined. The national press and even some international outlets are already all over it in their rabid dogs fashion. I’m just watching it all unfold with an admittedly morbid salacious eye, wondering if they can ever pull it all together. I keep thinking this a large scale drug trafficking or money laundering scheme. As of this writing, one of our best trial judges, Clifton Newman, has been appointed by the Chief Justice of the South Carolina Supreme Court to ride herd on this disaster. He’s damn good; I just hope he has every resource at his disposal. This is a horrible stain on my beloved profession and I hope it can solved and cleansed.
Damned if I know…