Did you know the first Memorial Day was originally held in Charleston, SC and organized by former slaves?

It was May 1, 1865, but they called it Decoration Day.

On that day, former Charleston slaves started a tradition that would come to be known as Memorial Day.

You can read the entire account here at The Post and Courier.

Despite being December, the weather was absolutely gorgeous, and some of us even took a dip in one of the creeks. The highlight of the trip for me was doing an 8-mile loop around Bulls Island, which is a part of the Cape Romaine National Wildlife Refuge. It is filled with wildlife and incredible scenery.

There is a section of the hike called, “The Boneyard” where dead trees stand and fall at the water’s edge. Beaten by hurricanes and bleached by sun and salt, they appear like fossils being pulled into the sea.

The remnants of an old fort made out of oyster shells lies at the north end of the island. Built some time in the late 1600s or early 1700s, it served as a lookout for marauding pirates who would often ambush incoming ships carrying their cargo to Charleston and beyond.

I am growing tired of the mediocre camera I am using to shoot video. The lack of image stabilization and high resolution are disappointing. Time for a new one. Any recommendations?

Now, if that does not get you excited to watch this video I don’t know what will! Either way, you can look away or choose not to hit play. ;~)

There have been many events and individuals that have shaped the character of Charleston. For instance, Charleston was once held hostage by the infamous pirate, Blackbeard. Almost one-hundred years later, the first shots of the Civil War were fired at Fort Sumter, a structure that still stands sentinel in the mouth of the harbor. It is said that General Sherman spared Charleston from the match on his way to burn Atlanta because of his love for it.

My appreciation for Charleston, SC is only intensified by the fact that I live almost 3,000 miles away from it and for almost 10 years. Why do I not live there you may ask? Well, because Charleston lacks only one thing – mountains.

Still, I love to visit, and I just happened to find myself there this past week. I was able to get out in the boat to fish with my father, shoot clays in the country with my mother, and take in the city with long walks and runs down the slate-covered sidewalks.

For those that live far away from their place of birth, I suspect they  experience the same feelings that I do when they return. You cannot help but unearth memories containing emotions, experiences, and individuals that have played an integral role in who you are today.

On my last day in Charleston, my feet lead me to the very street and house that  I grew up in. Sounds cliche, but it was actually quite circumstantial considering the busy schedule I maintain when visiting. I have an extensive family and divorced  parents who live in different houses, so I generally do not have much time for these types of tangents.

Nevertheless, there I was looking over the wall, thinking it rather small in comparison to when I was a child. So much happened there, and yet it is all gone except for my memories and of those that shared them with me. How quickly your mortality can come rushing in like an uninvited guest. 

On a lighter note, I love the juxtaposition of these two pictures. My stepfather on the left in his skeet shooting attire, and my father out on his boat. Both pictures were taken within two days of each other.