Just got back from the Georgia coast where we visited two Islands for our vacation, The other was Sapelo where my sister and husband live over the summer. If you don't believe in global warming, then I dare you to go swimming there now. The water was 92 degrees.
I had a cousin that worked as a chef at some fancy pants resort in St. Simons. Lots of swells and national politicos chowed down in the cafeteria there. The only reason I knew of the place was from The Moth story-telling collective.
Founded in 1997 by writer George Dawes Green, The Moth is a live storytelling juggernaut that helped spawn storytelling showcases the nation over. While living in the fast-paced rat-race that is New York City, Green pined for the slow-cooked, rich stories he and his friends shared on St. Simons Island off the coast of Georgia. Down south, as stories were exchanged, moths fluttered about the porch lights. Et voila. The Moth was born. Now, 12 NEA grants later, the Moth is thriving in 19 cities throughout the United States and has enabled 15,000 stories to be shared live on stage.
Yes, the South has many excellent story tellers. My wife and I are now reading a book written by a resident of Sapelo entitled God, Dr. Buzzard, and the Bolito Man.
I see I might have been telling a story about the temp. as that is what my sons girlfriend told me, but the shallow water at Sapelo was warmer then the average reported on line.
When I read Saint Simmons I couldn't help but laugh out loud. A neighbor farmer in my teenage days and before would hire me for farmwork whenever I could get away from work at home long enough. The air would turn blue if his lips were moving. About as far as possible from being labeled a saint. His surname was Simmons. Two years or so ago I discovered we were distant relatives on my father's side. Dad is probably spinning in his grave from that news.
