Life & Island Times: Hunt Them All Down

Yet another trio of senseless gang related murders occurred just after Savannah’s July 4th celebrations were winding down a bit after midnight on the 5th. Among the dead were two of the three gang member killers and a well liked local service industry worker who was an innocent bystander. The targets of this gangland slaying all survived their injuries.

This failed drive-by murder of rivals occurred in the heart of Savannah’s downtown City Market tourist district of bars, restaurants and clubs. The incident occurred despite the monitoring of this eight block area by over 25 government surveillance cameras and positioning of over a dozen uniformed and plain clothes cops in the area. The gangs just don’t give a damn.

(A still from a city surveillance camera video taken at the moment that the white SUV’s occupants began to fire their weapons).

The community’s reaction was instant and swift. Hundreds marched on City Hall and its Commissioners less than 48 hours later, while the Commission was in session. The marchers were respectful in their mourning and demands for change. The Mayor, City Commissioners and Police Chief were sensitive and said all the right things with truly heartfelt sentiment. The Mayor frankly said “Make no mistake. We are war with gangs in our community. We are at war with those who want to disrupt any law abiding citizen and wreak havoc upon our beloved city.”

Sadly, the Mayor went on to say that policies can’t be changed in the heat of the moment and “we must stay with our strategic plan” to curb gang related violence.

So far, the plan ain’t working and the law abiders are losing the war. 2017’s murder toll in this small community of 220,000 now stands at 25 after 2015’s toll of 53 and 2016’s of 52. The previous five years’ average murder toll was below 30.

In an offhanded parenthetical, the local paper reported that less than 15 minutes after the above incident, “officers heard shots fired in the area of Jefferson Street and Broughton Street (about three blocks away from the initial shooting). They responded to the scene and located a 17-year-old suffering from non-life-threatening (gun shot wound) injuries.”

In response, Savannahians are not just fearful, they are pissed. During the past three days, angry letters to the paper demanded implementation of stop and frisk, another 25% increase to an already burgeoning police force, more cameras and National Guard patrols on downtown city streets and in our neighborhoods.

Most telling was a hand written note on the editorial page of the July 7th edition of the local morning daily. W found this paper on one of the tables of our favorite coffee bar, The Sentient Bean.

As some of you know, this coffee shop is a treasured hang out for the locals who live in the Victorian District around Forsyth Park. Most of its multi-racial and ethnic customers tend to be on the younger and more progressive side of the political and cultural spectrum.

As you can see below, the note is a chillingly direct declaration of real war sentiment from a normally pacific portion of the local populace. This ongoing carnage is now real to them.


I wonder when if ever we will cease resisting the inconsequential and get down to it as Neil Young wrote many decades ago:

Kid gangsters, drug sales flowing
We’ve always been on our own
This summer people finally hear the drumming
Another dead in the Market

Gotta get down to it
Gangsters are cutting us down
Should have been done long ago
What if you knew him
And found him dead on the ground
How can you run when you know?

Gotta get down to it
Gangsters are cutting us down
Should have been done long ago.
What if you knew him
And found him dead on the ground
How can you run when you know?

Kid gangsters, drug sales flowing
We’ve always been on our own
This summer people finally hear the drumming
Another dead in the Market

Copyright © 2017 From My Isle Seat

Postcard From The Swamp #6

The heat index for The Swamp is going to be over 100 degrees today. Sounds like it might be time for everyone to cool off and do something about health care- 20% of the gigantic US economy- and for other people to cease “resisting” whatever it is that so infuriates them. Just an opinion here, mind you. But I think this is verging on obsessive compulsive disorder.

Oh well. At least the Senate is going to have to stay in town like the rest of us for the torrid sultry August in the Swamp.

Nothing but good times!

– Vic


Editor’s Note: I felt like I was going to be one of them recently. Thankfully on the mend. Life is good. Live it while you have it.

– Vic

Author’s note: Thanks to my readers who submitted many of these additions.



Taxpayer: “I’m spending this year dead for tax purposes.”

Voltaire: “To the living we owe respect, but we owe the truth to the dead.”

Monty Python: “Bring out your dead . . . I’m not dead yet . . . . . . yes, you are.”

Diner: “I want my food dead, not sick, not wounded, not dying — dead.”

Light bulb: “I am on until I am dead.”

Me: “I lived in DC at the bottom of a cul de sac off of a pipe stem dead end. Go figure.”

Philosopher: “Why is the past the only dead thing that smells sweet?”

Speed freak: “I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”

Me (again): “Never speak ill of the dead or the trial the judge who is hearing your case.”

Snickering Campbell Soup can: “Avant garde art is dead.”

Pedestrian: “There are two kinds of jaywalkers, the quick and the dead.”

Citizens: “All politicians are great patriots, humanitarians and friends of the people, provided that they really and truly dead.”
Me (one last time — I promise): “Why isn’t Elvis alive and all his impersonators dead?”

Copyright © 2017 From My Isle Seat


Arrias on Politics: North Korea is a real problem; maybe China can help?

On July 4th Kim Jong Un, North Korea’s autocrat, watched his engineers launch a missile into the Sea of Japan. Shot in a ‘high loft trajectory,” the rocket flew about 600 down range but rose more than 1700 miles. This trajectory, if flattened out (like a baseball player hitting a “pop-up” versus hitting a shallower fly ball) would allow a re-entry vehicle – a warhead – to reach Hawaii and Alaska.

In short, Kim has an intercontinental ballistic missile. Does he have a nuclear warhead that fits atop this missile? If not now, soon.

So, what now?

As Charles Krauthammer pointed out, “our nuclear non-proliferation strategy” has failed. North Korea has nuclear weapons; others will follow. Ukraine had nuclear weapons, surrendered them on a promise from President Clinton, and is slowly being reduced by Russia. Libya had WMD, surrendered them, then was virtually destroyed by Obama, Clinton et al. North Korea paid attention; it’ll never voluntarily surrender its nuclear weapons.

(Did Iran pay attention? We’ll see in a few years…)

So, who helped North Korea?

What country provides 90% of North Korea’s trade? Keeps them alive when times get tough? Has defended them against UN Sanctions? Who even sold them the truck that carried the missile fired last week?

The answer: China. (As Damon Runyon observed: “the race isn’t always to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, but that’s the way to bet.”)

China also helped Pakistan with their nuclear weapon program (search “AQ Khan” on the internet), probably helped Iran, and probably was helping Libya and Syria, both of whom had nascent WMD programs. Expecting China to help disarm North Korea is expecting the leopard to change its spots.

So, while President Trump tried to “play nice” with China, China is part of the problem; to contain North Korea means containing China. China helped create this problem; China likes this mess, likes that it’s consuming US attention, as China pursues its strategy. China wants to make it too hard, too expensive, for the US to sustain its presence in the Western Pacific; China wants South Korea, Japan and others to recognize China’s hegemony, pushing the US out. North Korea is their proxy, a tool to use against the US. Any solution to contain North Korea must begin with recognizing that fact.

Further, we must recognize that our actions will have strategic implications for decades as other countries consider whether to acquire a nuclear arsenal. The old strategy failed because we – the West, the US, UK, and France failed to stop various nuclear weapons programs before they came to fruition. We must learn from that failure.

So, what to do?

Begin with a broader strategy, one encompassing all of East Asia, a comprehensive containment of both China and North Korea, while working to eliminate the Kim regime, and unifying the Korea peninsula under Seoul.

– Offer allies and friends (South Korea, Japan, Taiwan, Vietnam, Philippines, Thailand, Malaysia, Singapore, Indonesia, Australia) deals on weapons, training, aircraft and ships

– Negotiate stationing additional reconnaissance and attack aircraft in these countries

– Deploy additional military assets to Korea, Japan and Guam

– Condemn China’s efforts to strong-arm East Asia, insisting on the rule of law – Last year an international court ruled China’s claims to certain SCS islands were without standing; China responded by threatening the Philippines

– Announce a third party embargo; anyone — including China — trading with North Korea cannot trade with the US

– Close international banking loopholes that allow North Korea to move money through other countries

– Cancel Chinese participation in any US military exercise

– Review Chinese acquisition of any US corporations

– Aggressively expand US Missile Defense testing and training

– Work with India, Saudi Arabia, et al to apply pressure on Chinese movements into SW Asia and the Indian Ocean

– Fund development of a new generation of nuclear weapons

Finally, change the “tone” of the dialogue; deterrence only exists when the “other guy” believes you have the will to inflict real punishment. So:

Conduct a nuclear weapons test, sending the world a clear signal of US seriousness. Then, announce plans to begin discussions to move nuclear weapons back into the western Pacific.

The old strategy has failed. For our own future security, the US needs to demonstrate a new strategy and a new level of will. The time to do that is now.

Copyright 2017 Arrias

Life & Island Times: Nothing’s Crazier Than DC

Editor’s Note: I have had a couple health adventures over the last week but think we have identified the problem and are moving out swiftly to remedy it. I met with a Russian Attorney, so what could possibly go wrong? Hope to resume my usual drivel here shortly- and certainly in time for tomorrow’s Post Card from The Swamp!

– Vic

Nothing’s Crazier Than DC


Author’s note: I had written and submitted a rather off color piece on our Imperial City’s carny sideshow, but the sage heads at Socotra House shelved it. Thank you, wise sirs and madams. Here is a kinder, gentler ditty on that city. Perhaps we should view the town more as a kind of Baked Joint.

The craziest show we know
Is our capitol town
They’re living life in and out
Of their own twilight zone

They bust each other’s britches
While they promise to bless our souls
They’re freaking leaks of nature
Just babbling totem poles
Look and see, I think you’ll agree
Nothing’s crazier than DC

More somethings for nothing
Aren’t for them just dreams
They’re hell bent on selling
Us on all kinds of schemes

They bust each other’s britches
While they promise to bless our souls
They’re freaking leaks of nature
Just babbling totem poles
Look and see, I think you’ll agree
Nothing’s crazier than DC

Riding up and down Pennsylvania Avenue
On the backs of elephants, donkeys, and emus
They seem to be talking trash
What we smell is oddly like swamp gas

They bust each other’s britches
While they promise to bless our souls
They’re freaking leaks of nature
Just babbling totem poles
Look and see, I think you’ll agree
Nothing’s crazier than DC

More somethings for nothing
Aren’t for them just dreams
They’re hell bent on selling
Us on all kinds of schemes

They bust each other’s britches
While they promise to bless our souls
They’re freaking leaks of nature
Just babbling totem poles
Look and see, I think you’ll agree
Nothing’s crazier than DC

These talking enchanted rabbits
Tell us that our lives will soon be keen
Hoping we’ll forget that nothing is ever
Just as it seems

The craziest show we know
Is our capitol town
They’re living life in and out
Of their own twilight zone

Copyright © 2017 From My Isle Seat

Life & Island Times: All My Friends Are Dead Or Dying

Editor’s Note: I love the way Marlow thinks.

– Vic


I saw and quickly read the short satirical children’s book for adults at a Beaufort SC book store this week. All My Friends Are Dead was a dark humor version of the short, sweet children’s books that were popular 20 years ago. Thus amused, the following resulted.

“Shaun of the Living Dead” zombies from the hilarious movie by the same name

An aging me: “All my friends are dead or dying. That’s why I wear black a lot. It saves time, which is in short supply these days.”

The departed ones, who look down on those of us who are still living, thinking: “Jerks.”

Mastodon: “All my friends are long dead.”

The bulging yogurt cup in my fridge: “All my friends expired last month.”

The worm in my garden: “All my friends are eating all your friends who are dead.”

Jihadist leader to suicide vest bomber: “Remember to say Allahu Akbar before you press the button.”

Sasquatch: “All my friends are make believe.”

Republicans in Congress to The Donald: “I wish Twitter was dead.”

Chicken: “All my friends were loved at Popeyes.”

Sheep: “All my friends are followers.”

Democratic Party emblem: “All my friends are asses. But so are the Republicans.”

Ransomware pop up: “All your files are dead.”

My 78 RPM records: “All my friends are silent if not dead.”

Creepy clown: “I fill you with dread.”

Deadheads: “Our leader is dead.”

Dead Kennedies: “Our gig is dead.”

Tootsie Pop: “All my friends are suckers.”

Snare drum: “All my friends are beat.”

Windows 2.0: “All my screens are frozen dead.”

Grim Reaper: “All your dead are belong to me.”

Subway Sandwich shop: “All my friends are bread.”

Bernie Madoff: “All my friends are dead broke.”

Lemmings: All my friends went over the cliff.”

The Redeemer: “I am the risen dead.”

Francisco Franco: “I am still not dead.”

Global Warming to us: “You’ll all be dead, give or take 3000 years.”

Librarian: “All my friends are dying — in alphabetical order.”

Caesar: “Latin is dead.”

Taxes to Death: “We are life’s only dead certainties.”

Wise man: “Without experience and smarts, you will be soon be dead.”

Black holes: “Cross me and you will be dead.”

Wilbur the pig: “Charlotte’s web kept me from the dead.”

Fukuyama” “History is dead.”

Smart phone apps: “The Web is dead. Long live the internet.”

Zombie: “All my friends are the living dead.”

Copyright © 2017 From My Isle Seat

From the Goat Locker


Editor’s Note: The Goat Locker is where the Navy and Coast Guard Chiefs hang out on naval ships or revenue cutters underway. It is an honor (or horror) to be invited there, depending on your rank. But we all know who runs this complex business. And they always have. This is from my retired Master Chief Bo’suns mate pal, “Boats.” Socotra LLC does not (necessarily) endorse the solutions aspoused in his/her potentially seditious comments, which remain the property of the Master Chief. I would not dare to contradict them. I would, if called, go to war with Boats anytime.

– Vic

Swampland Solutions

Here in the land of America’s largest real (vice figurative) swamps we went to the beach for the 4th. Actually with the typical summer temperatures in the 90s we did the air conditioned version and went to the PCYC where we could see the beach and reach the bar without difficulty. We pigged out on non Mediterranean fare (aka “rabbit food”, what “She who would be obeyed” usually feeds me) like hot dogs, hamburgers, baked beans, French fries, fried chicken, barbecued pork butt, potato salad, apple pie, and ice cream.

I had at least one of each.

We dashed downstairs briefly when the sun went down and the temperature dipped down into the upper 80s and listened to several bars of the live band and watched young people dancing. We thought briefly of dancing but we were sweating just standing there (uh…sorry boatswains mates sweat, “she who would be obeyed” just “glistened”) so we went back upstairs and had another rum and cola and watched the fireworks up and down the beach. I guess the big casino displays ran out of black powder about 10 PM. On the drive home which crosses the Pearl River Basin which some tree huggers suggested as a national park back in the 1930s, I thought about swamp drainage.

In the 1930s, the tree-huggers feared that the Pearl River Basin would be drained and turned into farm land and eventually ‘burbs.

But Congress turned down the concept announcing that the the place was too wet, hot, humid, and jungle covered to draw any visitors. The Interior Department already had a semi-tropical swamp in the Everglades which at least had some scenic vistas over the saw grass meadows, the so called “River of Grass”. The Pearl River Basin was covered in Bald cypress, Palmetto, Yucca, Water Gum, Water Oak, etc forming a dense jungle like wetland forest cut into only by the East and West Pearl Rivers and some canopied tributaries.

As congress noted the place was full of alligators and snakes. So visitors from New Orleans to the Mississippi beaches simply sped across the two roads crossing the southern half of the basin in about 15 minutes at 70 mph. No drainage, no farms, no burbs appeared between the 1930s and 1950s. Then we got the lunatic idea of going to the moon (really, I can see it from my back yard, go there? Why?) and NASA realized that they would need a place to test rocket engines.

They would need a big un-populated space that could absorb a lot of noise. This swamp, too wild to be a national park seemed perfect. We’ve been testing rocket engines in the northeast corner of the southeast section ever since. The East Pearl River gives the NASA Test Facility towboat and barge access for transport of the rocket engines. The noise from the engine tests spreads out over the vast wilderness and dissipates before reaching the ears of inhabited places.

We’ve been doing this for about 45 years now and so far the only effect on wild life is that the rocket motors sound like bull alligators in mating rut on steroids. Hunters and fishermen say you can hear the big gators trying to out boom the rocket motors for days after a test (the females are off searching for that legendary super alpha male) . Locals love the rocket test facility for the jobs it brings and the boost those jobs bring to the local economy. Since in fact, the occasional noise (tests aren’t even a monthly event) doesn’t seem to harm the wild life the greenies have long ago backed off. The NASA sonic easement has protected the swamp about as well as national park designation would have. Then during the Elder Bush administration came the Department of Interior “No Net Loss Wet Lands Regulation” further protecting the swamp.

But the swamp is limited in area cut off by the Gulf of Mexico to the South, the beach communities of Mississippi to the East South East, the urban development of New Orleans to the West South West, and high and dry pine barrens everywhere else (It is a swampy “basin” remember). I suppose in pre Colombian times the surplus gators wandered out into the pine barrens and discovered that they couldn’t climb trees or chase down deer and died on the long trek back. Now, they wander into back yards of Waveland, Slidell or New Orleans East. The big cats seem to wander out into the few cattle ranches of the surrounding pine barrens about every ten to twenty years and take livestock, probably during a cyclical decline in the swamp’s deer population.

The feds don’t like hunting near the rocket test facility (stray bullets could cause expensive damage) and hunting is regulated elsewhere even though few hunters visit much of the area. Seriously we have a problem. We have to find a new meat supply for the the region’s apex predators.

So maybe I’m over simplifying. We Cajuns are prone to do so; but Houston: here is a solution to our environmental containment, management problem and the swamp drainage up there in Disneyland on the Potomac. We have hungry apex swamp predators, the DC swamp is full of fat meaty Deep State bureaucrats working in constant opposition to the national good.

Why not drain your swamp into our swamp? Identify all those Deep State GS 14s.15s, and Senior Executive Corps types, et. al., and offer them big jobs at the NASA test facility down here. On arrival our special welcoming committee could lose them in the swamp. Your swamp is drained of the counter productive meat headed elements and our apex predators are fed. Drain your over flowing swamp into our over abundant swamp in need of meat species. Problem solved.

The world would run so much smoother minus all of the unrepentant miscreants out there. Really if we Cajuns ran the world it would go so much smoother. We know why God invented gators.


Copyright 2017 Boats

Life & Island Times: I Went to a Party

Author’s note: Since returning yesterday from my third and youngest grandchild’s high school graduation in northern Indiana, I have been thinking and researching a piece on the capitol beltway’s little emperor class and the self serving drama piece they are performing for us. Fortunately, a blast for the past and Noel Coward came to my rescue with this collaborative piece as a result.


For a very special reason
I went north for this year’s graduation season
Their joy floated by as high as a kite
Which was most certainly their right.
Everyone there was excited over a future so gay
Nobody cared what DC people had to say
Though the Imperial City’s Beltway
Seemed really quite sadder
Than Rome before it fell from its height
This past Saturday graduation night

It was a most excellent and marvelous party
While DC played its smoke filled room game of leak and tell
A graduation party was in the fresh air
And guests came and went as they were
And they stayed as they were
Which is to say for them it was fun as hell

People’s behavior
In the Nation’s Capitol
Makes some of us aghast
As much of a slimy variety
In a formerly rules following society
Now by us on TV oozes past
If you have any mind at all
Gibbon’s divine Decline and Fall
Seems pretty flimsy
No more than a whimsy
By way of contrast
With events of this June week just past

It was a most excellent and marvelous graduation party
All who were there would say the joy was intense
Some of them knew what they had to do
What the people they knew
Would be doing a hundred years hence.
So on the front porch they talked about growing old gracefully
And Angele who’s ninety-four
Said, A, it’s a question of being sincere
And B, if you’re supple you’ve nothing to fear
Had she been able, she’d have swung from the chandelier

Copyright 2017 My Isle Seat/Noel Coward

Postcard from the Swamp #5

Swamp Update


OK- we are all jet-lagged here in the Swamp, every one of us, though in varying degrees. There were a hundred thousand or more people on the Nation’s Front Yard down at the mall all day yesterday to take in the Capitol 4th show. I avoid crowds these days, and had a vague sort of dread that something would happen. Instead, I watched it on the big screen, wondering as the patriotic program ran on about what was going to happen when everyone opened for business this morning, sun-burned, probably hung over and not at all ready to strap on the millstone again.

Or maybe that is just me. I enjoyed the pool in the afternoon, got a good healthy swim in while the sun was out, hung out with the usual suspects in The Clubhouse at poolside, and then enjoyed the dusk sweeping over Swamp-town. I was in the unit when the show started on Maryland PBS, and after the Beach Boys and the Four Tops did their hits, I assumed the fireworks would be extraordinary. I was right for a change. The 1812 Overture by the National Symphony Orchestra was suitably marshal in tone, even if it is not about America, but about the triumph of Russia over Napoleon Bonaparte’s Grand Armee. Forgive me if I think it is a little weird to have it symbolize American independence, but oh well.

I turned up the volume to “painful” and on the screen the fireworks were amazing. It ws a thoroughly pleasant day, but with the formal observation of the holiday on Tuesday, that meant Wednesday was going to suck in a big way.

Still a little worked up from seeing all the cannon go off on the West Lawn of the Capitol, I flipped over to a news channel to steel myself for what was coming in the morning.

OK- everyone knew about the Norks and their alleged ICBM. Mentally, I wrote off the city of Anchorage, since that is what the “experts” told me was what Krazy Kim could hit, but someone had been working while the rest of us were goofing off. Turns out, the entire state and a good swatch of western Canada are targetable, should a deranged and paranoid Hermit king choose to do so.

It got crazier as I watched the talking heads on the panel discuss the matter, analyzing what we actually know, and the President’s series of Tweets on the matter. Transitioning to the range of options available to deal with the (now) suddenly grave situation, which wasn’t on Monday. Man, you take a couple days off and look what happens! Then I realized I had to update the Swamp slide for the distribution this morning, but was in no condition to do so at that particular moment.

Feeling a little unsettled, I wandered back to bed for a fitful few hours of slumber. I had some Korea dreams all mixed up from living and traveling in both the South and North of the Peninsula. It was not particularly restful.

I discovered things had not become any better when I rose. So, the North has some (probably) road mobile 1960s-technology rockets that actually work. Liquid fueled, they say, which comes with a bunch of baggage- keeping the silly things fueled causes corrosion, among other things, and puts the owner-operator in a “use or lose” situation that I observed long ago in the first installment of this interminable American adventure in Iraq.

Pentagon, Desert Shield, J-2 of the Joint Staff: “So we know they fueled it, and we know that once fueled they have to use it in a couple days. What is the chance that they are going to launch it at our people?”

J-2 analyst: “Dunno. I would give it a 50-50.”

J-2: “That is less than helpful, and I have to see the Chairman in a minute. Thanks for your interest in National Defense. I will make something up,” he said as he swept from the room. That is exactly the way I feel now.

So now it is just a question of whether they can miniaturize a nuke to sit atop the rocket and dump it here in The Swamp. That is a question I really hoped would be several dozen Happy Hours away. But now it is not.

Anyway, with that recollection summing up the mood this morning, I give you the Swamp Update for the 5th of July……


Copyright 2017 Vic Socotra

Life & Island Times: Seen Around Savannah

Editor’s Note: This morning, Marlow touches on some of the things that make this great, chaotic, wonderful nation unique. Enjoy your 4th! The Parade in Culpeper starts at 4:00 PM! Fireworks to follow at the park!

– Vic

I am no scientist, just an interested observer. I am exploring our new neighborhood in Savannah much like an infant, who has just learned to hold his hed up. My gazing about is frank and forthright but hopefully not bewildered.

Much like a newborn, I do not possess much of a clue or depth as to who these folks are, where this is, what is going on and so forth. But I aim to learn bit by bit.

In a couple of years, I hope not to have relearned how to fake it. You now what I mean . . . possessed of the arrogant air of a squatter who has come to feel he owns the place.

Many of us are beset for the most part by an uncommanded, perhaps taught, pride which diverts us from our native intent, which is to explore our surroundings and landscape, to discover at least where it is that we have been set down as well as why.

I guess this is somehow connected to our human desire to “own” things, especially creative works. Like many of my vintage, I talk about personal connections to favorite bands, authors, performers and athletes. There are some whom I encountered very early in their careers that I came to feel that I “discovered” them. I think it’s an impulse we’ve all felt.

Why? Why do we cease exploring things and come to owning things? How does our dynamic sense of wonder and curiosity turn into a more static and final sense of judgment and possession?

In the hope of remaining curious, I offer you a trio of oddities that W and I have found during our journey in and around the Hostess City.

Great Dane


The 10 foot by 15 foot mascot for Great Dane semi trailers stands guard just west of the downtown historic district of Savannah. The company dresses up its dog for various holidays. Woof. Woof.


Giant Cow Mailbox


Located in the rural outskirts of Savannah this mailbox was made for a giant — 30 feet tall, 16 feet long and 8 feet wide and painted like a cow. The mailbox owner also owns and operates Keller’s Flea Market whose mascot, Kelly, is a much beloved 15 foot high 22 foot long 1500 pound fiberglass cow.


Please note Kelly’s accessories – a gold leg watch, tail diamond ring, an “I (heart) Fleas” cowbell, a lady’s straw hat, dangling earrings, and bulging eyes. She also is dressed up for various holidays.
Runway 10 Graves at the Hilton Head-Savannah Airport


Whether arriving or departing Savannah Airport’s Runway 10, an eagle eye on the tarmac will treat you with the sight of a pair of concrete rectangles that mark the final burial place of Richard and Catherine Dotson whose bodies refused to move as the airport extended Runway 10 in the early 1980s.

Like many airports across the country, the Savannah airfield was built on former farmland, taking advantage of all the wide open space for lengthy runways and sprawling terminal hubs. A necessary component of using this type of land has always been dealing with the small family cemetery plots that most of them have. Generally this is not a problem with the airport usually footing the bill to move the graves into a modern cemetery with the family’s consent. In the case of the graves in the way of the Runway 10 extension, the deceased couple’s children did not consent.

Since it is illegal in America to transfer buried remains without the consent of the next of kin, the airport did the only thing they could and simply paved over them. However, far from a heartless steamrolling, two headstones were placed over the graves, laid flat with the runway.

One’s gotta love a place where folks play seasonal holiday dress up with mammoth dolls and land 70 ton jet aircraft atop grandma and grandpa.
Happy Fourth of July!

Copyright © 2017 From My Isle Seat