Papa, Can You Hear Me?

Sorry about the blog hijack.  I am happy to report that Spike is doing well and sends his love.

After we got Spike's surgery out of the way it was time for the next Watson to be taken care of.

The backstory:   Years ago I got my teeth cleaned by dental hygeine students at the local technical college.   I wondered if there was a clinic for orthodontic students at the only school in South Carolina to train orthodontists, the Medical University of South Carolina in Charleston, S.C.    I found out there indeed was such a clinic and that appointments were first come first served and that you had to "just keep calling" and hope that one day you hit a day when they were scheduling appointments.

I also found out the entire process, including retainers and checkups until age 18, would cost $3600.00.   This at a time when private orthodontists are charging $6-7000.00!

I also found that, like most of my other ideas, (purchasing Microsoft stock in 1980 and beachfront property in 1940) others had been there first.   I found a number and began calling.  And calling.  And calling.   Whenever I found a few minutes break in my day, I called.

Literally one hundred phone calls and two years later, a voice answered the phone and an appointment was made.  Off to Charleston!

First we had lunch at the best restaurant in Charleston, Poogan's Porch.   No, they didn't pay me to say that.  However, if they want to send me a check to cover the parking ticket I got because I read a sign that said "Parking from 7PM to 5AM" as "7AM to 5PM"  I'll happily accept bribes gratuities.

We also peeked into the neighboring restaurant, 82 Queen Street.  It also has great atmosphere and food.

They didn't pay me to say that either.

And of course no trip to Charleston would be complete without a picture of the horse and carriage rides that take you on city tours.

My father was born in Charleston.  His mother was a Jagar.  That doesn't mean anything today, but 100 years ago, that got you into the snootiest cemetery in town, the Magnolia Cemetery.  Next to the Maybank family.   I know, I know.  You're all just soooo jealous.

A quote from the above link:

"The Magnolia Cemetery 70 Cunningham Street (843) 722-8638 Magnolia Cemetery is the quiet, final resting place of many important Charlestonians and other players in the city's long running and colorful drama. This 19th century cemetery is not far off East Bay Street, which becomes Morrison Drive. Many of the city's leaders, politicians, and judges and other pioneers in many fields are buried beneath the ancient live oaks of Magnolia. Among them are five Confederate brigadier generals. There is a vast Confederate section, with more than 1,700 graves of the known and unknown. Eighty four South Carolinians who fell at the Battle of Gettysburg are included. Magnolia's gates are open daily from 2:00 to 6:00pm."

Here's a picture of the family marker.  My grandmother and namesake, Ethel Lorraine Jagar Callison, is listed at the bottom.   This was taken in 1986 when we were in Charleston to bury my aunt Caroline Hollingsworth Callison, granddaughter of man at the head of the marker, Charles L.A. Jagar 1848-1921.

The Maybank family graves are located right next door to our family plot.    That's Joseph Maybank, M.D. 1868-1942.   "His was the able mind, the skillful hands, the comforting presence, the understanding heart."   Next to him lies his wife Harriet Lowndes Rhett, 1872-1935.  "Thy face, Lord, will I see."

Here is my aunt's aunt's duplex SOB in 1986.    That's South Of Broad.   In other words, where all the aristocrats live.  That's my mom standing next to our car in the bottom of the picture.

Here I am at age 27 shooting pictures of the silver in the duplex.   The gentleman standing next to me making sure I don't lift a few pieces into my handbag is none other than the late Gene Norris, muse and former high school teacher to celebrated author Pat Conroy.    Gene Norris was my aunt's husband's brother.  (Take notes.  There will be a test later.)

A quote from an interview by Pat Conroy in the linked article:

As a military brat, Conroy moved 23 times by the time he was 15, when the family settled for two years in Beaufort, S.C., near Charleston.

It was there he met and was influenced by his favorite high school English teacher, Gene Norris, who would later tell Conroy, "I regret whomever introduced you to Thomas Wolfe."

"I said, 'It was you.' "

And he said, "Hush up, scalawag."

Norris, who serves as the model for a cantankerous philosophizing antiques dealer in the novel, introduced Conroy, still in high school, to that part of Charleston that's south of Broad Street.

In the novel, the narrator's father says: "South of Broad is a conspiracy of platelets, son: blood and breeding are all that matters there. No, that's not true: there's got to be a truck full of money somewhere near the blood bank."

On his first tour, Conroy remembers Norris telling him: "Take a good look at this, boy: It's going to change your life. It's the most wonderful place on Earth that we will never live in. But it's glorious. I'm taking you south of Broad."

Conroy had never seen anything like it: "All that architecture and so much of it."

Whenever I visit Charleston, I'm overwhelmed with longings.

1.  I want to move there.

2.  I want to live SOB.

3.  I want to write like Pat Conroy.

4.  I want to eat until I explode.

5.  I want to see my Daddy again.

6.  I want my daughter to get braces at the school where her grandfather, H. Grady Callison, and her aunt, Caroline Hollingsworth Callison, earned their MDs.

It looks as if the last part of the dream is beginning.

Here is the new MUSC Dental Clinic at 29 Bee Street.  Game on.

We were seated in the waiting area and ushered back into the offices.    There was only one other child there.  I heard his mother call to him, "Come on, Grady."

Come on, Grady.

My father's name was H. Grady Callison, Jr.   You can see his father H. Grady Callison on the family tombstone header.

Just to be sure, I asked her if Grady was a family name.  No, they just liked it.

They just liked it.

I have never heard any child called by that name before.

The orthodontist came in and proceeded to offer Madeleine three choices of brace colors:  blue, blue, and blue.

My parents met in grad school at the University of North Carolina, a/k/a "Those *&*&(*& Tar Heels."

UNC's college colors are blue.

And so, in the city that housed, fed and nutured her father, grandfather, great grandfather,  great-great grandfather,  great-great-great grandfather and their families,

my daughter received braces in the colors favored by her grandfather and grandmother.   The child in the next office, carrying her grandfather and great-grandfather's unusual name, Grady, received braces that day also.

I'm sure it's just a coincidence.