We propose a short road trip to Florida. The fastest route from Hilton Head Island, SC is along Interstate 95. That however is a four-lane highway, nothing but endless traffic usually following an 18-wheeler or jockeying with cars to get past the lines of trucks. Accordingly we’ve decided to get off I95 as quickly as possible and head east towards the Atlantic Ocean so we can connect to the Ocean road through Florida’s historic small coastal towns.
A former client of mine (whose wife curiously enough – though without any relevance to what I am about to say – walked with the plodding deliberation of a hippopotamus) was obsessed with computers. That was in the day when computers were still an oddity and certainly before anyone had even heard of fax machines or the internet. It was never possible to speak to him about anything other than computers (except perhaps fleetingly about his health and the weather). Everything for him revolved around computers. He was the original nerd. He reportedly spent hours and hours – late into the night and early dawn – at his work table in his office in a dusty, old and draughty converted woollen factory, trying over and over again to make things work. I believe he eventually succeeded. He sold his intellectual property and left town. As far as I know his tromping wife went with him.
While I would never pretend to be a food or restaurant critic, I would be remiss not to mention Sea Shack diner on Hilton Head Island. Sea Shack is a symbol of good food on Hilton Head Island; it’s a place I would never hesitate to recommend. For me it captures an essential Island experience. Granted it is not a place whose furnishings or paintings provide any promotion; nor will you gain any traction in the society column for being seen there. But it you’re hungry and dressed comfortably, you’re in the right place!
I am becalmed. Three years ago I truncated what had become at times a punishing professional occupation, a relentless agitation with no foreseeable abatement. Then in a sudden mixture of foresight, decision and serendipity it came to an unprecedented halt. I quit working and sold everything. I was at last set adrift!
The day began with more than its usual industry. For one thing we were out of the door by 8:40 am and seated in the car headed for breakfast at a nearby favourite diner. We hadn’t even paused after the morning ablutions for a coffee or fruit.
Uncommonly I wasted in bed buried below the feather duvet until almost eleven o’clock this morning. It had rained during most of the night, hard at times, and I could see through the diaphanous draperies that the skies were still murky and grey. The grippe had thoroughly undermined my vitality. I willing succumbed to prolonged rest. I needed it. Besides it is a luxury to stay in bed as long as one wishes and to get up when one has the urge. It’s an advantage afforded a singular set of people, people without children, people of means, the elderly, idle people generally, people without an agenda, people not agitated by conscience, people who have a broad enough view of the world not to feel constantly imperative.
Though it hardly qualifies as reckless indulgence, this morning we breakfasted out. Such sybaritism! As usual we went to Low Country Produce & Café where we cavorted with three of the regular staff, one of whom (a sister of one of the co-owners) had been absent for about the past six weeks (which I know for a fact since it has been at least that long since she referred me to her hair stylist nearby and I have been there twice already).
As gung-ho as one may be to see the world and to witness all that there is upon the broad face of this intriguing planet, in the end we see it through a porthole.
Like an old dog I am comfortable with old habits, among them getting back to business. Thirteen years of school, eight years of university and forty years of working didn’t exactly prepare me for a life of indolence. I prefer putting things in order, taking care of what needs to be done. It’s time to put away the empty-headed holiday mindset for another year. Frankly it is a bromide for the hysteria of Christmas and the New Year. Though we can hardly be said to have drowned in the seasonal ambitions, the contamination howsoever slight is impossible to avoid. Re-engaging with the routine and comparatively tedious mechanics of life has both a practical and stabilizing effect. Instead of dreamily planning social engagements, dinner parties, family rendezvous, gifts, decorations or what to wear, the substantive agenda of groceries, diet, exercise, personal and property maintenance and generally putting one’s affairs in order can at last be reclaimed. Even if it is nothing more than a purgatory it is a necessary and welcome transition, a dusting-off.
About a week ago we arranged with our friends here to convene for breakfast at Low Country Produce & Café at 9:00 o’clock this morning. The reason I am fairly certain about when the plan was made is that unusually the gathering was proposed and confirmed almost immediately on the heels of our having had dinner together. Not only is one’s appetite for breakfast normally diminished – if not in fact dissuaded – by dinner but also most social commitments customarily have far more breathing space. In this instance however – being seasonal interlopers on Hilton Head Island – our time together is limited and neither we nor our friends have any local competition for similar get-togethers. More important I suppose is that we enjoy one another’s company, a fact which trumps the sometimes diaphanous feature of blunt society. We have what I call a pleasantly languid alliance which contributes to a laid-back idiom.