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Author of south of broad
Author of south of broad











author of south of broad author of south of broad

In its shadows you can find metalwork as delicate as lace and spiral staircases as elaborate as yachts. All this I could do in a city enchanting enough to charm cobras out of baskets, one so corniced and filigreed and elaborate that it leaves strangers awed and natives self-satisfied. Though Charleston feels a seersuckered, tuxedoed view of itself, it approves of restraint far more than vainglory.Īs a boy, in my own backyard I could catch a basket of blue crabs, a string of flounder, a dozen redfish, or a net full of white shrimp. I consider it a high privilege to be a native of one of the loveliest American cities, not a high-kicking, glossy, or lipsticked city, not a city with bells on its fingers or brightly painted toenails, but a ruffled, low-slung city, understated and tolerant of nothing mismade or ostentatious. It comes to me as a surprising form of knowledge that my time in the city is more vocation than gift it is my destiny, not my choice. Deep in my bones, I knew early that I was one of those incorrigible creatures known as Charlestonians. Michael's calling cadence in the cicada-filled trees along Meeting Street. I grow calm when I see the ranks of palmetto trees pulling guard duty on the banks of Colonial Lake or hear the bells of St.

author of south of broad

The high tides of the city flood my consciousness each day, subject to the whims and harmonies of full moons rising out of the Atlantic.

author of south of broad

My soul is peninsula-shaped and sun-hardened and river-swollen. I carry the delicate porcelain beauty of Charleston like the hinged shell of some soft-tissued mollusk. The city's two rivers, the Ashley and the Cooper, have flooded and shaped all the days of my life on this storied peninsula. His bloodstream lit up my own with a passion for the city that I've never lost nor ever will. Charleston was my father's ministry, his hobbyhorse, his quiet obsession, and the great love of his life. He was talking about Charleston, South Carolina, and he was a native son, peacock proud of a town so pretty it makes your eyes ache with pleasure just to walk down its spellbinding, narrow streets. It was my father who called the city the Mansion on the River.













Author of south of broad