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Florence City/County Pics


Charles Pearson

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On 6/4/2019 at 9:35 AM, vicupstate said:

I looked at that very same yearbook last Saturday. 

What a coincidence. :) Go, Bruins!  I am not sure what drew me to that particular YearBook since I didn't know or rather didn't know anyone in it at the time. I  could stay in that South Carolina Room for hours reading all those great history books of Charleston, Florence, the Pee Dee, and all those old High School Year Books that make me smile. Some of the odd history about Florence made me laugh esp. after reading how Florence's 1914 mayor foolishly got rid of the city's civil service commission like other American cities because he thought it was useless and the commission was abolished in 1918...however, the exigencies of modern Florence re-established the commission in 1955 under Mayor James R. Schipman.

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  • 2 weeks later...

excursion . . . colleton county, lowcountry south carolina

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With a population of 5,328, Walterboro got its start in 1783 when the Walter brothers formed a small hamlet called Hickory Valley approximately 48 miles west of Charleston and 49 miles north of Savannah. The town was later named for the brothers, and in 1817, Walterboro was named the county seat of Colleton County.

Then there is Dukes BBQ of a string of Dukes from James Island to Aiken, but this one is our first located in Walterboro and gets 5 stars for authenticity, the friendliest people and sweet Carolina BBQ and the best Mac ‘n Cheese we’ve ever tasted anywhere.
 
"I'm just a country boy
-Don Williams
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E. Day Street
"Economy's depressed, not me
My spirit’s high as it can be
And you may say that I ain’t free
But it don’t worry me
-Barbara Harris, Keith Carradine, IT DON'T WORRY ME
from
Robert Altman's classic film NASHVILLE

For the cyclist traveling east of McLeod Medical Center, Day Street drops like a rollercoaster and you're flying in the wind down a narrow curvy street past rolling hills, empty fields and tiny side streets above murky still creeks and endless pecan tree groves.  A short distance from bucolic St. Ann church is an abandoned factory waiting patiently for revival, one dilapidated house without hope manages to retain far more charm than the rest of the neighborhood consisting of rusty trailer houses and a working-class enclave of run-down clapboard dwellings with front yards and porches overstuffed with water-coolers that peek from behind raggedy shrubs and angry guard dogs tied at the end of poles. 
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East Day Street Hill

At the end of East Day Street a small white Pentecostal church with a long Spanish name and a two-story hall erected in back of the church sits behind a sign that reads no dumping for a dirt path laid with gravel and grass grows down the middle and through the shady wood without sound the earth is pristine white in one area like oyster shells.   Looking up a light reaches behind the tallest hill pushing to be seen through the growth and at last the path ends abruptly and opens into an extensive railyard.
 
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St. Ann Catholic Church, Kemp Street
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Iglesia Torre Fuerte
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Florence Railyard
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Hillside Street house driveway

"Every time you go away you take a piece of me with you, oh
Every time you go away you take a piece of me with you
-Daryl Hall, writer, EVERY TIME YOU GO AWAY

 
 
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Hillside Street house
 
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Long incline bike lane, South Park Avenue
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At last! Demolition of The Florentine Apartment Building erected in 1951 begins

"And when we die and float away
Into the night the Milky Way
You'll hear me call as we ascend
I'll say your name then once again
Thank you for being a
Thank you for being a friend (I want to thank you)
-Andrew Gold, THANK YOU FOR BEING A FRIEND

 
 
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FLORENCE STATION
Hi CHARLES PEARSON,
We wanted to let you know that train #0098, scheduled to depart Florence, South Carolina on Wednesday, July 31st, has been delayed. The estimated arrival time is now 11:58pm...
 

"Building your dream
Has to start now
There's no other road to take
You won't make a mistake
I'll be guiding you
You have to believe we are magic
Nothing can stand in our way
-Olivia Newton John, MAGIC
 
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Florence Station WAIT ROOM
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Amtrak is a beautiful experience no matter where you're heading.  But after Florence, the internet goes out somewhere between Florence and Fayetteville in the darkest Carolina wood. The most beautiful town with its Main Street lit up was Lumberton we flew past before the black wood returns and one tired traveler en route to Albany having had enough of his stay of the South and Savannah is snoring when I fall into a deep sleep comforted by the echo of a train whistle and the train racing with a gentle rock along rails.
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Fayetteville (NC) Station

In Fayetteville, I finally had something to drink after mentioning my thirst and dismay that the cafe to buy water was closed. The woman sitting by me in seat 43 pulled out a pineapple juice from her bag and offered it to help ease my thirst. That was very kind of her because I needed it. She was traveling from Charlotte to her home in Boston where her mother and sister still reside. I didn't think I would like her at first because she took up so much space being a big woman with thunderous thighs, but I ended up liking her a lot after we chatted about so many things we had in common.

At 3:00 a.m. I woke up as I usually do at 3am and I thought about Caleb and April and Draper and Swifty (my fish) back in my apartment. I missed them terribly that moment but figured my neighbor, who calls them her nephews and nieces, would take good care of them while I was away as I watched a woman in the row ahead of me tear into a piece of chicken thigh in the hungriest way I have ever seen...
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My first memory of Philadelphia goes back to childhood when I was a little boy and I went there by train with my grandparents to visit relatives--Uncle John "Jakie" Jr.., grandfather's firstborn son. At the time everything seemed bigger to me in Philadelphia than they were back home at my grandparents place in South Carolina where...there was a snail pace movement. Nothing seemed to move very fast or at all back in Florence county, SC.
 
"I heard the voices of friends, vanished and gone,
At night I could hear the blood in my veins,
It was just as black and whispering as the rain,
On the streets of Philadelphia.
-Bruce Springsteen, The Streets of Philadelphia
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