Letters home

Never More Bookstore, Beaufort, SC

My mum typed her letters to home on a typewriter similar to this one I spotted in the Never More Bookstore window in Beaufort. She often typed in the middle of the night, sitting at the kitchen table snug near the coal stove. She used thin blue paper with a sheet of carbon copy in between if she wasn't typing on an areogram.

With eight kids it was probably the only time she was alone. Never fear- we quickly foiled her precious solitude! 

One of us would wake up, hear the keys clicking and decide we needed a drink or bathroom visit. We'd enjoy a few minutes of rare solitary attention before the next kid traipsed in, and then the next. Soon we'd have the warm kitchen full of sleepy children wrapped in shawls and blankets, insisting on being read to before we went back to our beds. 

Sorry but not sorry Mum!

From the Perry family album:

Ontario, Canada

We walked to high school in India as a matter of course. Neighbors set clocks by Perry girls marching to class every weekday and for half day on Saturday. With book bags slung over our backs, we wore blue tunics, white shirts and socks with the mandatory two red stripes identifying students from St. Mary's High School in Laitumkrah. We climbed hill paths that turned into waterfalls during the monsoons and knew every short cut and path through the woods. We would pause at the foot of a hill during a rain storm in the rainiest part of the world, look up at the waterfall that was our usual path, balance umbrellas as we took off shoes and socks and pressed on.

My family returned to Canada for a year when I was finishing high school and I landed in what was then Grade 13 in Beamsville, Ontario living at my grandmother's house again close to three miles from the school.

Unfamiliar with Canadian winters and being our father's daughters we didn't consider how unreasonable this was and packed our bags - heavier now with thick hardcover chemistry and science books and started walking. My sisters and I had waist length braids and heading out in the morning after our showers the damp tips of our hair would freeze into sharp spikes handy to stab each other with.

We learned the new shortcuts, cutting through peach and pear orchards and rows of grapes. One heavily snowing day we discovered the little creek we usually hopped over was now a rushing river of ice. We sat in the snow and as we were used to, took our boots and socks off, rolled up pants and waded through the frigid river.

A teacher saw us walking in - Shirley, Sally and I, and greeted us with, "You Perry girls always have such healthy rosy cheeks!"

Yep. Frostbitten, frozen stumps for feet and numb toes but we looked so darn jolly and healthy.

Going, going, gone.

My companion for so many of my pictured travels has packed up and gone. Boo. 

The boxes were packed, the cake has been eaten. Sadness.

Rosie has been the best of friends. We have explored the quirkiest bits of the lowcountry - checked all the lighthouses off our list, taste tested pralines, visited the Button Museum, met Pearl Fryer in his topiary garden, explored cemeteries and sat quietly in historic churches. We've eaten the best bbq, enjoyed boat rides, laughed and talked all over the state. It's been a wild ride and joyful friendship. 

For those of you who didn't know who I was riding the roads with, my friend Rosemary is a nun. A religious sister. It's been an unusual and wonderful friendship. I have been blessed with a compatible and joyful sidekick for over ten years. When she retired from working at the hospital, the expectation was that she return to her religious community in St. Louis. 

We had the most wonderful goodbye party. Live music, singing, dancing. The room was filled with people wanting to say goodbye and let her know how much she meant to them. She packed up this morning. Rosie and her twin Rita hit the road and this time I am not with them. They are heading to St. Louis with the well wishes of so many of us in Charleston. All of us, but especially me. God speed my friend. 

Mother's Day memories

Perry home first aid station

I've mentioned that my father was a missionary school teacher in the hills of north east India for fourteen years of my childhood. My mother had graduated with a nursing degree from the University of Toronto and she quickly set up a first aid stand in our living room. We watched and learned and it was never a surprise to walk in the house and see one of my younger siblings washing and bandaging wounds. The healthcare provider was often younger than the patient! It's fun to tell people that I was a very young healthcare volunteer. My sister Sally wrote this: 

Mum introduced us to nursing at a very young age. Our home was open day and night to school children and anyone in the community who had need of patching up. She was a legend in our village, many who would never go to a doctor or hospital would let Mum take care of them and was my introduction to the importance of trust in our profession. I can remember Mum often strongly recommending that a doctor should be consulted, but when they refused she would do what she could. She was loved by many. We practiced nursing long before we were out of elementary school, looking after scrapes, cuts, skin infections before and after school, during recess and even meal times. We went with Mum on her visits in the community, seeing unimaginable sights, legs swollen with elephantiasis, fungating tumours and third degree burns covered with local remedies. We watched her give injections and when called upon, stepped up and gave daily injections. Three of her daughters, one granddaughter and grandson are nurses.

From the files

Mawlai, Meghalaya, India

I am heading out for a walk shortly but thought I'd share this scanned photo from my childhood. I am easily identified because I wore shoes for class photo day. I always made good and fast friends in school and have fond memories of wild games, laughter and pranks. Sadly when I moved I made such huge moves across the world and usually lost complete contact. Good times.
 

Thelma & Louise Charleston Style!

Thelma & Louise, Charleston Style!

I've been taking enough weekend road trips with my friend Rosie that folks have laughingly called us Thelma & Louise. I can't help it. She loves to drive and I aim to be the perfect sidekick. We haven't decided who is who, there have been no Brad Pitt sightings and luckily there are no cliffs in the lowcountry but the tag name stuck in my head. Thelma & Louise, Thelma & Louise....what could we do with that?

I happen to have just the right gang of talented friends to pull together a morning of silliness and this is what we came up with! Thanks to my friend, co-worker and photographer Leah Sparks - who usually concentrates on photographing birds in swamps, convertible owner and set designer Laura and fashion consultant Lisa, we almost killed ourselves laughing.

After I wound my wild hair back on top of my head and Leah wiped the raindrops off her lens we headed to the Fish House at Patriot's Point for lunch with perhaps the best view in town.

Thanks ladies! I am still grinning!

To see what Leah usually takes pictures of and prints to consider for purchase check out her website at: L.S. Photography

Father's Day - 2015

Donald E. Perry, Ontario, Canada 

I made a mad dash out of town last week and landed in the midst of my family's reunion in Dunnville, Ontario. My father has Alzheimer's disease and I had no expectation that he would recognize me but his eyes sparked and he said, "It's our Joan" and almost broke my heart.

He doesn't talk much now but seemed to enjoy the happy chaos and grandchildren's activity. We owe a daily debt of gratitude to his wife Dianne Perry who cares for him lovingly. Seven of his eight children gathered with partners and families and it was a treat to be together.

Some years ago during a visit to Charleston, I asked my friend Dan Conover to interview my father. I jotted down questions that would lead to interesting parts of his life and left it in his hands.  Dan and videographer Don Lewis set up cameras and interviewed him in my livingroom. I am so happy to have this dvd in my father's voice telling the story of his life.

At the end of the interview Dan said, "I will ask you what I ask anyone who has reached your age, what is important?"

My father thought for a moment and said, "People. People are what is important" He continued on to say that perhaps he had spent too much time in his life working and paying attention to work and not enough on the people in his life.

At this time of terrible sorrow after the massacre in Charleston that is what we need to remember. People are what is important. Love and take care of the people in your life. Happy Father's Day to all the fathers and those who have served that role for all the children in the world.

Perry Family Reunion, 2015

My fifteen minutes of fame

Lowcountry Senior Sun

I was away on vacation when friends let me know I was featured on the cover of the Lowcountry Senior Sun's August issue. I didn't know until I came back and had one in hand that there was a very large picture of me on the front cover.

I can promise my friend and editor Torrey Monroe that people do read his newspaper because I've been hearing about it everywhere I go! For months I've been nominating candidates I thought were interesting to be featured and this time he sent write Brian Sherman to interview me. Thanks Torrey!

Coming to America

Rutledge Ave., Charleston, S.C.

Repost of 7/4/2009 entry:

For much of my life I felt like what my brother Jim likes to call a "Cultural Nomad". Each time I moved I started over completely with little overlap of friends or family. I had finished high school in India and my family had returned there. I was alone in Canada and by some happy stroke of good fortune was accepted into the Nursing program at Ryerson University in Toronto. It was during the time nursing schools were being absorbed into universities but I found a room in the old dorm at the Hospital for Sick Children.

I'd never had a room or bed of my own, worn any clothes but hand me downs, hadn't eaten a whole candy bar, never been in a bank or driven a car. I had braids down to my waist, dorky glasses and had seen three movies in my life. I was alone in Toronto after being part of a family of ten and I was in heaven. I loved it. I cut my hair, bought a pair of jeans, ate my first pizza and squeezed a lifetime of new experiences into two years.

It was a nasty wake up call to discover there was a freeze on hiring nurses when I graduated. Nothing. I applied everywhere, but nurses were working in book stores and as waitresses that year and half of my class left the country. US hospitals crossed the border to recruit us. We were considered good catches for foreign nurses since we already spoke English, eh.

I naively accepted the first job I was offered, packed everything I owned in a single suitcase and one small cardboard box and ended up in St. Petersburg, Florida. I was immediately assigned to be Charge Nurse on a Medical Surgical Floor. Poor souls.

That was 1977. I married my hippie from Philadelphia and moved into his half built cabin on a mountain in West Virginia. I worked in community hospitals and large medical centers. I had two children, ran a free- standing birthing center in Hurricane, W.Va. and eventually settled in the lowcountry arriving the year before hurricane Hugo.

I've been welcomed, respected, taught by experts and loved in this country. After my divorce I finally went through the process of becoming a citizen and every year on July the 4th I feel gratitude to the friends I've made in this country and for the home I found in Charleston.

Gifts my mother gave me

Miriam Cameron Perry, Toronto, Ontario, Canada

 Gifts my mother gave me:

• She took us to see the Peter Pan statue in Kensington Gardens as if it was our family shrine
• Picnics! From proper picnic hampers at the Botanical gardens at Niagara Falls to tomato sandwiches in parks in Tehran she made a meal outside an adventure.
• She took us to see the cannon that Rudyard Kipling's Kim sat on in front of the museum in Lahore, Pakistan.
• Tea. It's always time to put a kettle on. We visited tea plantations and drank Assam Tea in Assam.
• The love of books. My mother would get up in the middle of the night to have a few peaceful moments to herself. We'd awake to the sound of her typewriter and one after another we would sneak into the kitchen to huddle by the coal stove and insist on chapter after chapter of the latest book in progress. Eight kids - sniffling at the sad bits. Picture it.
• How to patch a wound, knit a sweater and make a mean shepherd's pie. 

Things my mother didn't give me:

• Middle name. Neither I, nor any of my five sisters have middle names. I didn't give my daughter one.

Many more but these struck me! My mother has been gone for years now but these are gifts I will always have.

Seven things about me

Charleston, S.C.

Isn't this house a beauty? I am so lucky to live here and walk by these gorgeous places every day.
 
Lowandslow challenged me to come up with seven interesting things that everyone might not know about me. I don't usually do these things but since he is one of my loyal readers and a frequent commenter (thank you, thank you!), I will do my best. Here we go:

1. I once won $10,000 in travel from the old Rhodes Furniture store on Sam Rittenburg Hwy. My kids were younger then and I dropped them off with my parents for the summer and went around the world. I rode a train through the Canadian Rockies, hiked on Vancouver Island, explored Hong Kong, stayed on a houseboat in Kashmir, enjoyed a lazy canal boat in France and finished off in London. I spent every last cent.

2. Although I am not opposed to eating meat I rarely cook it. I live on scrappy salads at work and simple healthy meals at home. A friend recently told me I was a "lazy vegetarian".

3. I took my own delivery pictures. Shut up. Don't picture it.

4. I grew up without a tv and had only seen three movies by the time I was seventeen: The Sound of Music, Ben Hur and Love Story. I've been making up for it ever since.

5. I walked across England from coast to coast and at the end I weighed exactly to the dot what I weighed when I started. I kept thinking I was going to walk off all those big English breakfasts. Ooops.

6. I consider flavored tea hot juice. Yuck.

7. I once failed a septic tank inspectors course in West Virginia and I'm still pissed about it. It was a rainy afternoon, I was hanging out with a couple of hippies and tagged along. I never wanted to be a septic tank inspector but they failed me because they didn't want a little gal passing the test, no one stood up for me and I didn't fight it. Grrrrr.

Whew. Seven. That's it! I am not going to name anyone but if you drop by please join the fun and come up with seven things most people might not know about you. I mean YOU. Leave a note in comments letting us know you are playing along so we can read them.

My Moment of Fame

Charleston Magazine

I kept getting emails from people congratulating me so I finally walked down to Harris Teeter and bought the January Charleston Magazine. Although I am a subscriber, I send my subscriptions as gifts and read old
issues at work for myself.

How fun is this!? Pretty damn fun.

Style Editor Ayoka Lucas and photographer Leann Canon came to my house just before I went away on my trip and put this together. I think they did a lovely job and I am incredibly flattered that they featured me. I've always loved Charleston Magazine. Thanks folks! You made me look good!

A message from my mother

Hoya Blossom, Charleston, S.C.

I don't bother with many plants anymore but I have a few hanging pots in my living room windows and always try to have a hoya plant. My Scottish grandmother was famous for the hoya that grew all the way along an arched opening between her sitting room and library and was heavy with blossoms every year. My mother had cuttings of her plant and when I went up for her funeral many years ago, I was handed a cutting of the original that she had been rooting for me. And, yes, I smuggled my third generation cutting across the border and home to Charleston.

The plants don't bloom very often but when they do they are amazing little bouquets of waxy blossoms. Check out the google image gallery of Hoya blossoms.

My original cutting bloomed for the first time on Mother's Day - the anniversary of my mother's death and for many years after on that date. I had a bad panicky time when that plant died after trying my best to nurse it back to health. Eventually I got another and this week I have a happy bloom. Hi mom! :)))

Family history by the book

Charleston, S.C.

I moved a bookshelf this weekend, emptying the dusty shelves onto a bed, throwing out Budget Travel magazines from ten years ago saved "just in case".

It's almost as good as reading a diary going through old books. The pile on the bed was a snapshot of interests that took me so far back into my childhood I tumbled down a rabbit hole of memories.

I shared common interests with my grandfather and have some of his old books. He loved art, music, birds and magic. I spent many an hour in his library drawing from sketchbooks, learning the escape secrets of Houdini and pondering hypnotizing my siblings to my advantage. I still have his books on British witchcraft, figure drawing and water colours of ships at sea.

I spent time as a kid, studying the faces in the "Beautiful Children" prints by the old masters, fascinated that the odd little people in the paintings were considered beautiful in their time. Through the years I added calligraphy and bird carving books which he would have liked, and I know he'd be proud of the magic and science tricks for kids from when my children were little.

My grandfather came from Scotland as Alexander Cameron Auchinachie. When no one in Canada could pronounce his Gaelic name without it sounding like a double sneeze he finally legally dropped it and went by his clan name Cameron. I am pleased to have at least one book signed before the name change.

Airmail Please!

Eutawville, S.C.

When I was a kid in India, without tv for entertainment, no telephones and only half an hour of English music on the radio on Sunday night, my friends and I competed in soliciting pen pals from far and wide. I have no recollection of what prompted this, but I sent an ad to the Winnipeg Free Press promising to correspond with anyone who would write me by Airmail.

The postman's arrival was a big deal and everyone gathered round when I got an envelope from Canada. The only person responding to my ad was a ninety year old gentleman by the name of Alfred Stone who wrote from the Wentworth Lodge Retirement Home in Dundas, Ontario.

He rambled on for pages in blue ink handwritten letters on thin paper sent by Airmail as requested. He thought I had nerve insisting on the extra postage but surface mail took 4 - 6 months to arrive. If I was to have a senior citizen as a pen pal, Mr. Stone was the right one. He had just started violin lessons and was rehearsing for a performance. He had recently taken up woodworking and was making an bowl made of intricate inlaid pieces.

Mr. Stone knew exactly the right trick to keep me writing back. In each envelope he sent, he included a crisp two dollar Canadian bill. Gasp! Real pretty foreign money! He signed the letter, which I have to this day, "You can I am sure, use this."

You betcha! I kept my fortune in a worn envelope with tiny ticked pencil marks for each addition, translating it into Rupees and recalculating it endlessly according to the current exchange rate. I was the sister with MONEY.

We went to see Mr. Stone. When my family returned to Canada for a visit we drove to meet him. We walked down to the community room where he played us a tune on the piano and showed me the ribbon he won at the fair for his hand carved wooden bowl. He was a good catch.

Happy Birthday Jim!

Mawlai, Shillong, India

One hundred and forty seven years ago tonight, give or take a hundred years, I sat straight up and wide eyed on the top bunk of a double bunk bed (yes, one bed - four kids) listening to the howling wind and knowing that my mother was giving birth in the next room. It was her eighth baby and perhaps less frightening to deliver with my Dad's help than go to an unfamiliar hospital. Things happened so fast the decision was quickly made for her.

Happy birthday Jim! Aren't you glad your sisters raised you right?

We strapped him on our backs and played wild games of tag, hardly ever dropped him on hard cement floors and halfheartedly taught him to read a bit in English. Click here to see a picture of my dad sharing a special moment with my two youngest brothers.

Lay Down the Towel

Charleston, S.C.

The folks in the marketing department at my hospital are known for coming up with some very creative ads. They have successfully used employees and often my volunteers as actors and models. I was in a tv spot last year examining the rash on the arm of my assigned tv husband and encouraging him to see a doctor.

It was fun! People recognized me and strangers offered to let me check rashes all over town. Heh. I've been handy for a few shots for senior programs mainly because of my white hair. I shouldn't have been surprised when the gals in marketing called laughing their heads off, saying they needed me for another commercial.

This spot is on awkward questions people have to ask their doctor. My theme? Yep. Incontinence. My only line was, "When I laugh, I leak!"

They had a great film crew working the shoot and decided to let down my hair. My hope is that people will be so distracted by my long hair that they won't hear what I am saying. Ya think?

Seriously, of course - there are awkward questions that people need to be able to ask their doctor. It is a clever idea for a spot and I wasn't the only person convinced to help out. My co-workers are going to get a kick out of this one and someone might actually get help.

Now, I am going to pile my hair back up on my head as usual and go for my walk.

Somewhere in Europe

Perry Family Travels

Hmmmm....where do you think this is? The photo next to it looks like Vienna but these old slides were not labeled. Does anyone recognize the landmark?

I am the shorty in the back row. Yes. There were eight of us.

Edit: I added this second view clearly taken on the same day. Vienna!

New Year

Shillong Peak, Shillong, Meghalaya, India

I've always liked New Year's eve and day. This photo is labeled 1965 so it was the end of the second year New Year I spent in India. I already had my friendships well established.

We always stayed up until midnight as kids, with the coal stove on, playing carrom and crokinole. There was a "midnight feast" and token gift exchange.

I am one of eight so there were enough of us to put on little plays and performances that always involved my sister Shirley doing her infamous Beggar Woman dance for tips. Gotta support the arts!

Church Photo in Lieu of Attendance - Khasi Hills

Khasi Hills, Meghalaya, India

When I was a kid, living in Shillong, India, we would often attend church services in the outlaying areas. All ten of us would pile in the old yellow Willy's jeep and head far into the hills to remote villages.

I often joke that I have a lifetime pass and won't need to attend another church service as long as I live - and I mean it. I am exempt. Sundays alone could easily involve three separate services, morning, afternoon and end in evening services by kerosene lantern.

I'd spend my time drawing cartoons of the preacher and eagerly offer to take crying babies outside. I'd lay on the grass playing with the kids and torturing ants with my magnifying glass while the congregation belted out the good old familiar protestant hymns in Khasi.

This image is from a brittle slide in my Dad's old box probably from the mid 1960's.