Seeking Southern Charm: Why I Left Pennsylvania With No Books, No Plan, and No Winter Left in Me

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I left home on Monday, July 6th. No books in my trunk. Just a bumper sticker that says SorryBob.com, a car full of everything I own for the next 7 weeks, and a bet on myself that I'm honestly too scared to say out loud most days. I've been dreaming about the South for so long, and the time was never right. And then when it finally was, my husband was diagnosed with cancer, our dog Rocky passed suddenly (he was 14, still, we were not expecting it) and that was after our wonderful chocolate lab, Jack, passed 8 months prior. It didn't feel right to leave then. Even though my husband said, "Go! I'll be fine!" (and honestly, he probably wanted the silence!). But, still, I stayed. And then my husband got the 'all clear' this Spring, and so, the dream was back on again, with much less savings and more fear. 

I was a military brat and moved around much of my life. Even when my dad left the Air Force, if he had the itch to leave a place, he would. But, in all those moves, I'd never been in the South. 

I watched Steel Magnoli
as in 1989, a new wife, about to be a new mother, and something about those women on that porch felt more like home than home did. I subscribed to Southern Living for years after that and just... dreamed. I read Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil — Berendt's book came out in January 1994 — and something in me went quiet and paid attention. The South is full of fascinating characters. What a rich, unhinged, fascinating story. Of course there was also Pat Conroy, and one of my favorite Southern authors, Michael Lee West. 

These places kept popping up in my daydreams: Beaufort. Charleston. Savannah. Fairhope.

This tour is about nature, nurture, and bookstores. Bookstores I hope to be in myself someday! (It's very dangerous though, all these bookstores because it's so hard to leave without adding more books to my collection! I am on a tight budget that's already dwindling!)

This tour is about nature, nurture, and bookstores — bookstores I hope to be in myself someday! I walk in and I stand there a minute, the way you do in a place you love. I run my fingers along the spines like I'm looking for something specific, though I'm not. And for just a second, I let myself imagine my own name on one of those shelves.  That's reason enough to go, even before anything else gets decided. I'm waiting to hear from an agent, and if that doesn't come through, I don't know what I go home to — except that I already know I can't survive another Pennsylvania winter, so "home" might not even be the word anymore.

I keep waiting for something to go wrong. That's an old habit of mine — when things go right for too long, I brace for the other shoe. Car trouble. Or Worse.

But after spending three morning's on Sullivan's Island watching the sun rise (sorry to my family for all the sunrise videos and photos!) here's what I keep landing on instead: even if the agent never calls, even if I end up figuring out the rest of this from the front seat of my car — this was still worth it. 

More from the road soon — Beaufort's next, then Savannah!

PS: Every Sunday, you'd find me at the Horsham library farmer's market, elbow-deep in the discount book bin like it's a garage sale at The Lilly Pulitzer. That's where I met Caroline- a volunteer at the library.  She took one look at my Spartina 449 bag and recognized it right away. Unheard of in Yankee Pennsylvania!  She too, felt a calling to the South. She too, felt that calling after reading Goodnight in the Garden of Good and Evil! (I did not, however, mention that I was about to pack up my car and go find out if my Southern soul had a return address- I should have and regretted it immediately after leaving).  Caroline, if you're reading this: we are officially Southern Soul Sisters, and this journey is as much for you as it is for me!

Day Four: Seeking Southern Charm — Sullivan’s Island, Sunrise, and a City I Didn’t Want to Disappoint Me

Day four of the book tour started before the sun did.

I made the twelve-minute drive from my adorable little Airbnb in Mount Pleasant out to Sullivan’s Island just as it was getting light, and I caught the sunrise on the beach. Spectacular. Absolutely spectacular. And here’s a confession: I don’t even know why I keep calling this trip “seeking” or “chasing” Southern charm, because I don’t have to seek or chase anything. It’s here. It’s everywhere I turn.

I didn’t think Harrisonburg could be topped. Turns out Charleston does it — not by much, just a little — but it’s bigger, and it comes with more history than I ever knew existed. These people take real pride in being America’s rebels, and you can feel it on every street. The folks here are every bit as kind as they were in Harrisonburg, and don’t even get me started on the fashion. Pastels everywhere. Gingham everywhere. Women who look like they stepped out of a catalog even in shorts — and I don’t mean the LA, Beverly Hills kind of polished. I mean something more relaxed, more artful, more lived in. That’s Charleston to me: colorful, proud of its art and its history and its nature and each other. And I’ve only scratched the surface — I know I haven’t seen everywhere yet.

The Water Taxi Was the Move

Once I’d had my fill of sunrise, I needed to figure out the best way into Charleston proper, so I asked my Airbnb host. She pointed me to the marina and told me to take the water taxi — eighteen dollars for an all-day pass, back and forth, with drops at different spots along the way. Best eighteen dollars I’ve spent. The captain and her assistant were phenomenal, and even though I had no real plan once I landed, I figured it out fast enough.

I walked past Miss Pat’s house from Southern Charm — heads up, don’t bother making a special trip, it’s all walled off — but it was still something to stand there and read the history of Rutledge Street and realize the role that family played in founding this country.

Then I just walked. Real feel of 108 degrees, humidity thick enough to swim through, and I didn’t care one bit. I’d almost hoped Charleston would let me down a little — give me a reason to say I wouldn’t actually want to live here. It did not cooperate. It’s everything I’d dreamed about for years.

Books, a Hat, and

I stopped into Ladybird Books on King Street — newly opened, painfully cute, smaller than I expected — and walked out about $100 poorer and much happier. Felix the bookstore dog was off duty, which was a real disappointment, but I’ll forgive him. At the City Market I bought an actual hat. I don’t wear hats. I am now, apparently, a woman who wears hats, because I’m trying this whole “getting a little more Southern” thing on for size.

The water taxi back gave me three dolphins as a farewell gift. I was home by two in the afternoon and asleep by six — because this, it turns out, has been quite the journey.

Follow me on Instagram for all the pictures and videos of the journey! @BirdieJaneLane