When I was a kid, my Great-Aunt Jenny had what many today would call a side hustle. During the week, she worked at a high-end women’s clothing store in Rock Hill, but on the weekends, she would visit everyone she knew, selling Avon products and encyclopedias.
She’d come by our house nearly every Sunday, toting a free sample from Avon. She never failed to persuade my mom to make a purchase. I’m grateful for Aunt Jenny’s superior marketing abilities. Often, when I was supposed to be sleeping, I’d instead have a flashlight under my covers, illuminating a volume of the World Book Encyclopedia.
Those encyclopedias fueled a love of learning and reading that I seem to have inherited from both of my grandfathers. My dad’s father was a carpenter in Lancaster County who started his work every day by 6 a.m. But first, he chiseled through that day’s Charlotte Observer newspaper while eating breakfast.
My mom’s father was a row crop farmer who waited until after lunch to sit down in his Naugahyde recliner and read three things: the South Carolina Farm Bureau’s Market Bulletin, the King James Bible and Living in South Carolina—the original title of our statewide electric cooperative magazine.
My grandfather introduced me to Living, and within it, the column “Boys Are That Way” by James M. Eleazer. What I couldn’t learn in the encyclopedias—such as how to catch a crawdad—I’d pick up from Eleazer’s stories about growing up in rural South Carolina. (By the way, if you’re wondering, partially submerge an open mason jar into the water behind the crustacean and back it into the jar with the lid.)
A lot has changed since those days, particularly how we consume information and how we are exposed to stories that inspire us. In most cases, analog words on a page have given way to digital pixels on a screen.
We’ve reached an age when many, if not most, of us no longer find a local daily newspaper in the driveway. The very encyclopedias that taught us about dinosaurs are now proverbial dinosaurs. Local, independent bookstores are trending in a similar direction. Flipping through dozens of algorithm-curated, short videos is now how many of us pass the time on a rainy day.
Perhaps I’m getting old and technology has taken a turn I don’t appreciate, but I still prefer the tactile experience of flipping through the pages of a print publication and even picking up the faint scent of ink.
That’s why I’m glad South Carolina Living is still going strong. Like an old friend who drops by once a month to share colorful stories and reminisce on the good old days, it reliably arrives in your mailboxes and on your doorsteps. (If you’re so inclined, it is also available online at scliving.coop.)
After more than 75 years, it still delivers great information—we often hear about how much you love the recipes—and wonderful stories about the people around you. Since arriving at South Carolina Living last summer, magazine editor Sarah Owen has continued the magazine’s legacy of telling the story of loving living here.
My peach-farming grandfather would have enjoyed our profile earlier this year of Clara Dixon Britt, who once rode a bull to St. George’s Rosenwald School to keep her perfect attendance. I can hear him saying, “She is made out of the right stuff!”
I’m especially fond of the recent cover feature about “Liberty Mountain,” the small, long-running theater production recounting the Revolutionary War’s Battle of Kings Mountain. Stories like that preserve our knowledge of our heritage and the role South Carolina men and women have played in America’s rich history.
In our past and our present, we are a state made up of remarkable, independent people grown from rich and beautiful traditions and histories. In a time when it’s easier to connect to a screen than to one another, South Carolina Living fulfills an important role in sharing the personalities and experiences of your neighbors and fellow South Carolinians.