In considering a topic for my next Mercury column, I envisioned a light, uplifting speech infused with humor and light-hearted wit. For those who managed to peruse my previous work, it should be pretty obvious that I am creatively inspired by the trials and tribulations of life. This time, he was determined to switch gears and invoke laughter from the reader.

“I really CAN do this,” I thought, as I embarked on a creative journey with my yellow legal pad and pen, searching for joyful themes and images, eager to transform my typically intense, melancholy writer’s voice into a sonata of air. ethereal. optimism. I humbly admit that I have created another moving narrative capable of making even the most moody, cynical and jaded editor cry. I have resigned myself to the fact that I am incapable of writing about anything joyful. I am happily challenged as an author; hopelessly captivated by the deep and complex side of human nature.

Perhaps it is the psychologist in me that gravitates toward human complexity. In all fairness, though, I must assign at least some of the blame to the genuine, brave, and caring people who agreed to share their heartwarming stories with a curious, sweaty stranger (this Mercury writer was dumb enough to pose as a traveling reporter when a different type of mercury was rising to a scorching 100 degrees).

Suffering from a classic case of writer’s block and chronic procrastination that I choose to attribute to heat exhaustion, I decided to ditch my writing schedule and venture to the nearest Starbucks for a late afternoon coffee. As I sat down to my large iced latte and enjoyed my escape from the hell blazing outside, I found myself deep in impromptu conversation with a gentle and very expressive older gentleman.

This random stranger shared heartfelt words of wisdom and inadvertently released my previously blocked creative voice. He said that most young people make the unfortunate mistake of abandoning precious opportunities for adventure, spontaneity and carefree exuberance in favor of a relentless pursuit of material wealth. He suggested that material wealth ceases to have value once a person is too old to enjoy it, and said that now, reflecting on his life, he finds peace and satisfaction not in material possessions like the sailboat he is lucky enough to live on. , but in the good memories. of his youth He joked about how most people are too old to enjoy a boat like his, when they finally save enough money to pay for it. He urged me to enjoy the present moment and have fun now that I am still young enough to experience life. When he left, I was tempted to buy a one way ticket to Bora Bora.

I feverishly began recording the details of my encounter with this elder man of wisdom and decided to interview local people at various stages of life, asking each person to imagine the same scenario: traveling years into the future, looking back at life and ask the future self if inner peace and wholeness were found.

Nearly delusional from wandering around in the scorching sun and desperate to find somewhere else with air conditioning, I stumbled upon a kids’ gym and found a handful of heat-beaten moms apparently looking for a fresh respite from the crazy rug rats. Feeling like a skunk coming out of a sewer, I begged a mother to agree to an interview about life choices and the definition of contentment. It was here that I heard the story of Audrey, a 34-year-old homemaker, former teacher, and mother of two young children.

Audrey lost her father on United Flight 93; theirs was one of many families torn apart by 9/11. About a week before the birth of her first child, Audrey’s father left California for a short business trip, promising to return home in time for the birth of his grandson. Although Audrey’s children never knew her grandfather in her physical form, she finds comfort in believing that her connected souls might have crossed paths somehow, in that great space between here and there.

Through her pain and despair, Audrey has found comfort in her faith and the foundational influence of prayer. She honors the memory of her father by devoting herself to her family, walking God’s way, and striving to provide her children with the legacy of her grandfather’s love and a strong sense of her family values. She described being at a crossroads in life several years ago, when faced with the decision of whether to move to Charleston with her husband, leave behind the familiar comforts of home, family and friends in California, or risk her marriage by staying behind. . When asked how she found her way through the fog of ambivalence and confusion, Audrey replied that she turned to prayer and that she did the right thing for her marriage and her family. Audrey states that she is a woman who has found peace and fulfillment through faith and family, and that she is satisfied with her life choices.

Next, I stumbled upon Dog and Duck and found myself sitting across from Clinton, a 35-year-old divorced and soon-to-marry-remarriage beer salesman, welcoming the start of his weekend with some friends and a cold beer. Clinton is a father of two and a former education student who dropped out after a physical injury. Like Audrey, Clinton found himself at a crossroads in life as he was faced with the decision of whether to return to school to complete his education or maintain the comfortable lifestyle afforded by his high-paying job. He admitted that although he enjoys his material comforts, he regrets his decision not to return to school to complete his education. Clinton does not feel that he is “paying a debt to society” through the job he has chosen, and hopes that one day his children will follow his true passion instead of the path of least resistance. He said the success of his children will be their “measuring stick” for the fulfillment of his life, stating, “I feel like I held back because of my money values.”

My last stop was Hassie’s makeshift kiosk on the corner of 17 North and Houston Northcutt. Known to most Lowcountry residents for his unwavering stamina and constant presence on the same street corner, Hassie, 56, has inspired many writers over the years. With a degree in computer technology and a previous career as a college professor, Hassie has survived the loss of a child, two divorces, and the care of his elderly mother. A family-oriented man and father of three, Hassie defines fulfillment as his ability to see his children grow and stay healthy. He values ​​strong ethics, spirituality, and family relationships. Recently, he has experienced a deeper connection with his elderly mother. Hassie exclaimed, “My greatest achievement in life is my healthy children. I’m happy because I’m alive and not in a situation I can’t get out of.” When asked how he finds the strength to endure standing in the unrelenting heat for hours every day, he replied, “You can’t claim credit if you don’t survive.” He threw his head back and laughed, stating that part of the secret to his happiness was “getting out of handcuffs.” Speaking of his love for his children, Hassie said: “They know I’m always there for them, as long as they don’t call me collect, everything is fine.”

I venture to guess that the prevailing perspective of these four very different Lowcountry residents on the fulfillment of life and inner peace is probably an accurate reflection of the sentiment of our society as a whole. Strong family values, healthy children, faith, honor, physical health, and the ability to enjoy the present moment seem to take precedence over material wealth and the accumulation of physical possessions. These four Lowcountry residents taught me that it is not the inevitable loss, trauma, hardship, or despair that we humans must endure throughout life that blocks our path to fulfillment, but how we come out of these events, our continued ability to persist in the face of adversity, and our willingness to celebrate the blessings that lie ahead. As you say goodbye, always remember Hassie’s wise motto: “You can’t attribute if you don’t survive.”