Going back to old haunts is never a guaranteed adventure. Things change. People get old; novelty wears thin; some stop drinking; romance and amorous conjunctions alter or become less enthralling. Nonetheless we hadn’t anticipated what unfolded today upon our return to Hilton Head Island, South Carolina where we first visited over 1½ decades ago and have returned almost every year thereafter. Nothing horrid. But most certainly it was different from what we had expected to encounter based upon the past. I speak here of that most curious feature on Hilton Head Island; namely, snow! So remarkable was the discovery that it surpassed what only days before we had encountered to a noticeably lesser degree further northward in North Carolina, Virginia and Pennsylvania on our journey down from Canada. Reportedly – that is, from what we overheard on the local news channels and what the local residents touted in casual conversation – it was a hugely unpredicted event by all conventional standards. It especially disturbed me, however, not so much because of its uniqueness (a skiff of snow means little more than indifference to a Canadian) but because the colour of the geography was so especially inert and simplified compared to what I am accustomed to see in the introductory marshlands and and on the treelined avenues. The avid car lovers on the Island haven’t any truck with salt spray and slush from the roadways.
The success of Hershey is uncommon and quite unanticipated. It is as much a definition of American entrepreneurial achievement as that of Henry Ford and one more example of the lingering appeal of life in the United States of America. Clearly it pays to be sweet!