Happy Mother’s Day to our Mommy Makeover winner

Congratulations to Robin Sepulveda, the winner of The Island News’ Mommy Makeover 2012 contest! She had the most votes of the top five finalists on our website. Robin, seen above with her kids, will receive a mani-pedi and makeup done by Aqua Med Spa; a $50 gift certificate to eat at Southern Graces; a facial and massage at Beaufort Day Spa; hair cut, colored and styled by Salon Aria Off Bay; and clothing from Grace & Glory Uptown. Thank you to all our readers who voted to pamper this deserving mom.

 

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Special tricycle gives little boy more mobility, freedom

By Marie McAden
Playtime just got a whole lot better for 4-year-old Matthew Boyles. The Ridgeland toddler — incapacitated by a heart attack two years ago — now has a tricycle he can ride.
His occupational therapist arranged for the donation of a specially equipped three-wheeler to provide him with the opportunity to play like other kids his age.
“Over the last one and a half years, he has made slow and steady progress,” said Megan Mack, supervisor of Beaufort Memorial Hospital’s HealthLink for Children. “I wanted to give him an age-appropriate activity he could do with his cousins.”

Little Red Dog president Deb Libaire presents Matthew Boyles with his new tryke. He is joined by his mom and members of the Beaufort Memorial Health Link for Children team. Left to right: Lindsay Corbin, PTA Student; Deb Libaire, Little Red Dog President; Matthew’s mother, Mallory Recchia; Megan Mack, OTR/L, HealthLink Supervisor. Front: Mary Cobbs, DPT, and Matthew Boyles.

The tricycle was donated to him by the Little Red Dog Foundation, a Beaufort-based nonprofit organization that provides custom-built therapeutic cycles for people with mobility issues. The red three-wheeler features a head rest and chest brace to hold up Matthew’s limp body. His feet are secured onto the pedals with Velcro straps and his hands held to the handlebars with special gloves.
“We are so grateful for the donation,” said his mother, Mallory Recchia. “It’s made a big difference in his life. He spends 90 percent of his day lying on the couch or being held by someone. This gives him something fun to do.”
Matthew became disabled in June, 2010, after he went into cardiac arrest for almost 14 minutes, depriving his brain of oxygen. The heart attack — caused by congenital heart tumors — left him brain damaged and unable to speak or move his body.
He has been receiving physical, occupational and speech therapy for the last 20 months at HealthLink for Children, Beaufort Memorial’s pediatric rehabilitation center. Although he still cannot talk, he is trying to communicate. He has movement in his hands and is able to smile and laugh.
”He’s way more alert and recognizes people by their voices,” Recchia said. “He can say ‘mom’, which is a miracle in itself.”

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As important as the air a woman breathes is the character of women around her

By Cherimie Crane Weatherford
Running through the fields with the Mississippi heat searing down, I felt the rye grass like cool velvet against my short little legs. Without a care in the world, I made my way down a purpose beaten path to a place of comfort, peace and most importantly to the porch of a kindred spirit. Just passed the muddied cow pond, over the second hill and down the always dusty gravel road, Proud Mary would be working in the field, mending a fence, tending to the garden or if the sun was fading, sitting on the levy challenging the bass to a duel.
Once I reached the top of the hill, the familiar scent of Magnolias and honey-suckle vines proceeded the sound of a chain saw or hammer. Once my Southern-worn bare feet hit the gravel, I was on her land, her terms and in the warm comfort of her strength. I have my Daddy’s eyes, my Momma’s nose but my impossible temperament and devil-be-damned determination is the product of none other than Proud Mary. Proud Mary is my Daddy’s momma and my hero.
Mary still tends the garden, mends the fence and challenges the bass. The garden bends to her rule, the fence gives no battle and the bass haven’t a chance. In Mary’s world, each day holds purpose within each problem hides opportunity and each fishing pole holds ready bait. If something breaks, Mary fixes it. If something goes missing, Mary finds it. If you are hurt, Mary convinces you that pain is secondary.
It didn’t take long for me to decide that Mary was my kind of Mammaw. While my sister and cousins were playing with Barbie dolls and bake sets, I would rush off the school bus to see what project Mary had mastered. I would tell her of my day at school while she hammered the new floor. My opinions of the boys in class would flow freely as I handed her shingles on the roof. Slightly altered details of my latest fight with my Daddy would be explained as I followed her through the garden. Her tan skin, dirty hands and sky blue eyes worked as relentlessly as my little tongue rattled.
Occasionally I would have to fetch her mason jar full of ice tea, or run to the shed to grab a necessary tool. Mary didn’t treat me like an awkward little girl, her advice wasn’t filtered or soft — if I was wrong, Mary told me. If I was right, Mary stood with me and if Mary stood with you, may the good Lord protect the poor soul who didn’t.
It is no wonder my view of life is somewhat unique. I spent the majority of my childhood steps behind a woman who never understood “no” and rarely ever said “yes.” There was no time for tears on Mary’s porch, complaining never accomplished anything and weakness was an unwelcome guest. It was on Mary’s porch I learned the fire of independence, the depth of strength and the power of pride.
Over the years, the once well-worn path gave way to greener pastures. My bare feet turned to heels, heels turned to wheels, and wheels turned all over the world. No matter where I traveled, I saw Proud Mary. I saw her in empty train stations, dark streets and difficult situations. I heard her voice in conflict, felt her strength in moments of despair and just as the sun would rise, Proud Mary’s blood ran through my veins as a reminder of all that is possible.
Mary isn’t often found in shopping malls, she rarely asks for assistance and she silently applauds the awkward little girl who runs to her porch as often as possible. She isn’t much for lengthy conversations, ceremonial displays or grand social engagements. She is for independence, self-sufficiency and integrity. She lives off the land, for the land and in support of her family. Still mending fences in the Mississippi heat and offering a well-used tool to anyone in need, Proud Mary is the answer to most any question I encounter as a woman. When life is difficult, be stronger. When life is good, be thankful. When something needs done, do it.
Blessings abound as I was raised by the hands of a strong mother under the shield of a strong grandmother. As important as the air a woman breathes is the character of the women around her. It is my sincere hope that all women have a mother, grandmother, mother-in-law or a sweet surrogate who steps in, steps up and changes your life forever.  Remember to thank them this Mother’s Day.

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Big hats equal big fun at Dataw Derby party

By Lanier Laney

Jayne and Bill Krebs hosted their annual Kentucky Derby Party on Saturday, May 5, at their beautiful home on Dataw Island with the help of the Dataw GRITS (Girls Raised In The South) Club. I am told that if you had bet $2 on the winner, at the actual race track in Kentucky, you would have won $48,000. Not a bad “investment”! Here are some pictures from the fun and stylish event.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Relay for Life passes the torch

By Tess Malijenovsky
Beaufort’s Relay for Life made great strides in cancer research around Beaufort Middle School’s track throughout the night of April 27. Hundreds of citizens participated in the overnight event to celebrate cancer survivors, remember those lost, and raise money for the American Cancer Society. But, the entire event would not be possible without Linda and Joe Arp, who stepped up to the challenge and have made Relay a reality in Beaufort the past two years.
One afternoon Linda, a three-year breast cancer survivor, was approached by a representative from the American Cancer Society at one of her Beaufort Belles support group meetings to become the chairperson of Beaufort’s Relay for Life event.

Students from Beaufort Elementary School walk the track at Relay for Life, an overnight event held in April to raise money for the American Cancer Society.

“Linda said, ‘Yea, but my husband’s going to all the work,’ ” Joe, Linda’s husband, joked.
So for the next two years, the personable pair volunteered an enormous amount of time and energy into bringing their community together in the fight against cancer.
Joe said there were 56 teams this year, each with captains who attended monthly meetings. There were also a number of committee chairs who would meet twice a month, volunteering their time outside of work to help Beaufort meet its goal of raising $105,000. Each team came up with creative, fun ways to raise money for the American Cancer Society — from yard sales, car washes, poker runs, spaghetti dinners, wine tastings to selling Boston butts and custom-designed T-shirts.
“Without teams, Relay wouldn’t exist,” Joe said.
The local schools played a large role this year in particular. Lady’s Island Middle School, for example, raised more than $5,000 Beaufort Relay for Life has raised just under $88,000 so far with a few months left to reach its goal. (Donations can still be made to help Beaufort’s Relay for Life online at www.relayforlife.org/beaufortsc.)
Cancer touches the lives of many people, and Relay brings the community together for one lively night to walk the track and celebrate life. This year there were many performers, live entertainment, games, dunking booths, a Miss Relay Pageant and team members dressed in costume according to the theme: Curing Cancer Across the Decades.
“It’s awesome to see people who’ve battled and fought cancer and continue to battle and fight cancer walk the first lap,” said Joe.
With the successful event behind them, it’s now time for Joe and Linda to pass on the torch, Relay style. Joe is excited for the new chairperson, Charlie Hollie. Charlie’s parents are both cancer survivors.
“He’s in it for personal reasons, he’s a go-getter, and he’s going to be a great chair next year,” Joe said.

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This Mother’s Day … think pink!

By Terry Sweeney
You know rosé (ro-zay) for so many years had quite the bad rep. There were so many mass-produced cheap floozies out there over the years that you wouldn’t even think of ever bringing one home to meet mother! Too many bad experiences with that infamous trollopy trio of Boone’s Farm, Riunite and White Zinfandel had left us jaded and with the feeling we got ripped off by those boozy working girls; waking up the next day with our heads hurting and our wallets missing. Never again we said!
But good news, nowadays, far across the ocean on beautiful beaches in St. Tropez: There are French men and women washing down rosés that are spicy with fine virginal berry flavors, bone-dry yet with a flirtatious edge that makes them the perfect dance partner for the more seasoned garlicky seafood dishes of Southern France and beautifully pair with the wild herbs and olive oil that permeate so many of their dishes.
I once had a rosé from Chateau D’ Aqueria that a friend brought back that I still think about. (Maybe because he brought back the bottle as a supposed  gift for me then proceeded to gulp down 90% of it while bragging about how he drank it morning, noon and night in France!  Hey buddy, when am I ever gonna get to St. Tropez to get another glass of this stuff?! Thanks for nothing!)
Still, now it seems not only the French, but the Italians too have jumped on the rosé band wagon. Rosé is the perfect bridge between the reds of the cold, long winters and the zippy whites of the hot, steamy summers. That’s what make it the perfect drink for spring/early summer and why Europeans all begin drinking it in their respective countries around May. As soon as spring has sprung in their lands, out come the light, bright refreshing rosés. Hey! Isn’t that what your momma could use coming in from the warm afternoon sun after fussing over her new spring blooms?   But which one should your momma be drinking?
Here are my top three affordable pink wine suggestions:

FROM FRANCE: Aime Roquesante Rose — A pale salmon-colored beauty that balances scrumptious fruit with a refreshing acidity. It’s the kind of rosé that Provence is known for and is a delightful mix of three grapes. One sip and your mother will feel like you sent her on an all-expense-paid trip to the Mediterranean. But you know you only spent $13 dollars!

FROM ITALY:  Banfi Centine Rosé — Just seeing the name of Banfi on a bottle — one of Tuscany’s best known and respected producers — and you know you are about to taste an extraordinary, yet subtle, refreshing wine that is a combination of Sangiovesese, Merlot, and Cabernet Sauvignon.  There is a luscious Champagne-like yeastiness to this beautiful wine that will keep your mama coming back for more. (Better take her car keys!)  Also $13.

BACK TO FRANCE:  Madame Fleur Rosé — OK, so I went back to France! But via Whole Foods. This has the square “365” logo that tells you somehow they got into the mix and slapped on their label. Don’t let that scare your wallet shut. This pale pink elixir is the cheapest rosé yet ($8). With a whiff of strawberries on the nose and with its youthful acidity, this refreshing young girl could be the perfect lady companion for old Mum. But in case it’s for young, vibrant, middle-aged you, you can dig in and sit on the dock of your house and belt back buckets of this stuff and still keep your wits about you. (Let somebody else keep your kids about them!)
So whether you’re mom to a posse of kids, a dog, or a cat, or even a bird, take time to sit back, kick up your feet and take in this beautiful spring Mother’s Day with a  glass, or better yet a gallon, of rosé. Hey, you only get this one day off all year! And if you’re the son or the daughter of the aforementioned mother, for God’s sake, she doesn’t need a new pair of pink fuzzy slippers. What she needs is that other pink stuff. Now be a good kid and go get it!
Cheers!

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First Presbyterian Church turns 100

“Presbyterians in Beaufort sought to establish a church in the 1740s and 1880s. It was not until 1912 that 16 people formed a permanent congregation …” These are the opening words that will appear on a new historical marker located outside First Presbyterian Church.
On Sunday, May 13, the church will kick off the celebration of its centennial with a dedication and unveiling of the historical marker, which was approved by the South Carolina Department of Archives and History. A proclamation by the city has officially declared May 13, 2012, First Presbyterian Church Day in Beaufort.
Also, on Sunday, May 20, the community is invited to help celebrate the church’s milestone with an anniversary reception following the 11 a.m. service.
In commemoration of the centennial, historian and author and congregation member Page Putnam Miller has written a comprehensive book about the church titled, “Celebrating One Hundred Years: The History of First Presbyterian Church, Beaufort, South Carolina.”
First Presbyterian, located downtown on the corner of Church and North streets, will also host a variety of activities to mark its 100th year. For more information, visit www.firstpresbeaufort.org or call 843-524-3051.

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Dying to succeed: Confessions of a workaholic

By Takiya Smith
It has been close to two months since my last article and as I begin to write, I admit that I have missed these moments. Quiet, private moments where I can put pen to paper and let my soul flow. Since childhood, writing has always been a way of escape, release, peace and expression for me. It’s a God given talent and as I sit here, poolside on a much-needed family vacation, I’m listening to my children’s laughter and the splashing of water, and I now have a newfound purpose to His cause.
Just a week ago I was in the ER, silent but inwardly fearful and believing that I was having a heart attack. Thankfully, after an EKG and some X-rays, I was cleared. However, the underlying cause of my sudden onset of short, painful breaths and tightening in my chest that radiated through my neck, shoulder and left arm were signs of something just as serious. Stress, anxiety and fatigue were my diagnosis. The doctor’s orders: take it easy, give myself a break and relax.
Now, I must admit this is not the first time that this has happened to me, nor is it the first time doctors have said to take a break, yet this time was different. This time, the pain was more severe than ever. This time, the doctor spoke to me with cause for alarm. This time, it hit home that if I did not listen, I could die.
That night, and for the next few days to follow, I re-examined my life and priorities. Since the age of 16, all I have ever done is work. Work to establish myself as a young adult, moving out of a treacherous childhood past. Work at the age of 21, opening and managing my own cleaning company. Work, now as the owner of my own lash and brow spa. Work, work, work, work, work, work, work. Work to support my children. Work to pay the bills. Work to have a future. Work to prove that I am somebody.
Then it hit me. I, Takiya L. Smith, was guilty of being a workaholic. Looking further into my addiction, I realized that after years of succeeding then stumbling, I was working out of fear. Just four years ago, my children and I were homeless. Even though life has come together again, I found that I have secretly tucked away a fear of having to experience that again. So I have worked non-stop, with no boundaries or time for myself and no regard for my body’s health and well being. Furthermore, I was disregarding and alienating my parental duties by feeling as if my excuse of working sufficed my letting my children down, my lack of participation, or my expectation of their understanding of my excessive fatigue.
Now, at a state of wisdom and a peace about God being in control of my life, I have made a self-command to set boundaries and live for today so that I can be here tomorrow. I pray that those of you who can relate will make a choice to do the same. Work is in vain if we are not here to enjoy the fruit of our labors. Our lives are at stake, and our loved ones, friends and our community need and count on us.

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Dying to succeed: Confessions of a workaholic

By Takiya Smith
It has been close to two months since my last article and as I begin to write, I admit that I have missed these moments. Quiet, private moments where I can put pen to paper and let my soul flow. Since childhood, writing has always been a way of escape, release, peace and expression for me. It’s a God given talent and as I sit here, poolside on a much-needed family vacation, I’m listening to my children’s laughter and the splashing of water, and I now have a newfound purpose to His cause.
Just a week ago I was in the ER, silent but inwardly fearful and believing that I was having a heart attack. Thankfully, after an EKG and some X-rays, I was cleared. However, the underlying cause of my sudden onset of short, painful breaths and tightening in my chest that radiated through my neck, shoulder and left arm were signs of something just as serious. Stress, anxiety and fatigue were my diagnosis. The doctor’s orders: take it easy, give myself a break and relax.
Now, I must admit this is not the first time that this has happened to me, nor is it the first time doctors have said to take a break, yet this time was different. This time, the pain was more severe than ever. This time, the doctor spoke to me with cause for alarm. This time, it hit home that if I did not listen, I could die.
That night, and for the next few days to follow, I re-examined my life and priorities. Since the age of 16, all I have ever done is work. Work to establish myself as a young adult, moving out of a treacherous childhood past. Work at the age of 21, opening and managing my own cleaning company. Work, now as the owner of my own lash and brow spa. Work, work, work, work, work, work, work. Work to support my children. Work to pay the bills. Work to have a future. Work to prove that I am somebody.
Then it hit me. I, Takiya L. Smith, was guilty of being a workaholic. Looking further into my addiction, I realized that after years of succeeding then stumbling, I was working out of fear. Just four years ago, my children and I were homeless. Even though life has come together again, I found that I have secretly tucked away a fear of having to experience that again. So I have worked non-stop, with no boundaries or time for myself and no regard for my body’s health and well being. Furthermore, I was disregarding and alienating my parental duties by feeling as if my excuse of working sufficed my letting my children down, my lack of participation, or my expectation of their understanding of my excessive fatigue.
Now, at a state of wisdom and a peace about God being in control of my life, I have made a self-command to set boundaries and live for today so that I can be here tomorrow. I pray that those of you who can relate will make a choice to do the same. Work is in vain if we are not here to enjoy the fruit of our labors. Our lives are at stake, and our loved ones, friends and our community need and count on us.

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Steamed: The 10 worst things since broccoli

By Jack Sparacino
Well, I try to give equal time in this column.  Having written a few months ago about the 10 best things since sliced bread, and at the urging of several readers, here is my initial list of the 10 worst things.  Plus a bonus. Don’t hesitate to let me know if I left out any of your “favorites.”
1. Horrid foodstuffs. We’ve all got our hit list, so here’s mine after over 60 years of careful taste testing: sea urchins, radishes, canned green beans, sake and flavored water.  Yeah, I’m willing to take my lumps from the American Radish Foundation and Vegetarians for Democracy. And the guys who flavor water. (By the way, I actually like broccoli, though it seems to have acquired an unsavory reputation in some circles.)
2. Computer viruses. Aside from the fact that they keep some technicians employed undoing them, these bugs create incalculable damage, waste and expense. The fact that they are often caused deliberately should condemn the perpetrators to a punishment that includes a permanent diet of putrid sea urchins and flavored water. With radishes for dessert.
3. Screaming ads on TV. When you can’t fast forward past them, they can make you wonder why you ever bought a TV in the first place. Maybe there’s research somewhere that shows they’re effective, at least for the hard of hearing or those who need to be shaken, not stirred.
3a. Visa card ad with lady climbing a huge rock formation. This one gets honorable mention. While there’s no screaming, the song lyrics are indecipherable and the music is grating and irrelevant. A shipping company with brown trucks that touts its logistics capability with a send-you-up-a-wall jingle very nearly beat out the lady, who was “way up there.”
4. Flying coach. Right, an easy one.  Well, it used to be fun to fly, anyway, before airlines decided they really wanted to emulate bus companies and leave customer service to some other guys. The silver lining here is that after being cramped and hassled for hours, one’s destination can easily go from good to great in comparison with the trip.
5. Diagramming sentences. Do English teachers still foist this weird and silly exercise on kids anywhere?  Is there anyone out there who learned to read, write or do just about anything better as a result of making a perfectly nice sentence look like a fishbone diagram?
6. Never being able to get to a Howard Johnson’s for their fried clams. OK, there may be a few folks out there, like my wife, who think they’re like eating rubber bands, but I continue to meet people who just crave a nice big plate of these wonderful sweet clams with a lemon wedge and a little fluted paper cup of tarter sauce.  Yeah, it has to be fluted.
7. Mosquitoes. Aside from providing a food source for small fish and maybe some birds, do mosquitoes have any real value?  Net net, their miniscule positives are outweighed by all the disease they spread and their nasty bites. But hey, it’s 2012 already.  Surely scientists can come up with something to get rid of them without poisoning the planet. Maybe someone with the name Skeeter should lead the team.
8. Yellow linoleum floors. In all fairness, I like floors. Large and small.  Hardwood, laminate, terra cotta, you name it. There’s just something about yellow linoleum that makes me feel like something bad is about to happen.  Maybe it’s a carryover from having had a polio shot on one when I was a kid.
9. Turtleneck sweaters (in a narrow “win” over suspenders). Now if you don’t need to wear a necktie, and that seems to be increasingly common, why would you choose to have something else grabbing at your throat? Don’t get me wrong, though. I do like sweaters.  And turtles.
10. Digital watches. Sure, they’re sometimes so inexpensive they’re almost disposable and they take all the anguish out of actually reading the hands on a regular watch. But many of them look cheesy and you shouldn’t need a kid to help you set the time or understand half the functions. I still have one that cost $50. On sale. It’s supposed to be good to 500 feet under water or some such thing but most of my dives are in the kiddy end of the pool. When the battery died, it could only be found by first locating the world’s tiniest screwdriver and then removing four minute screws. Sort of like performing brain surgery on a fly. The new battery, not cheap, caused the watch to flash incoherently and then go blank. So what time is it? Time to toss it out.
Now for the bonus: Toll booths. Yes, I’m the guy who once pulled up to a booth with barely 5 cents on me and had to grovel for assistance.  Toll booths seem to be set up on only the busiest highways and bridges and therefore add to an already strained commute.  Surely there’s a better way to raise the necessary funds. Maybe a gigantic bake sale?  Right, complete with toll house cookies!

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