The American Spectator

At the ceremony was Irving R. Levine, former economics correspondent for NBC and an old pal of my Pop’s. He was as friendly as could be and it was a pleasure to see him.

After a modest lunch, I went back to the hotel and slept for about four hours. It is not easy to travel coast to coast and then get up early to work. But I happily do it to feed my family. That’s what grownups do. And I love meeting new people. Mr. and Mrs. Ross, who run Lynn, were so amazingly hospitable I could hardly believe it.

There are a great number of very kind people in this nation, and that’s the truth.

Wifey and I went for a long walk along the Intracoastal, had a modest dinner, and went to bed early. That’s its own kind of pleasure.

p> SUNDAY br> Up again to fly to Charleston, South Carolina. I haven’t been there since 1950 when my little family stopped there in our two-tone green Chevrolet sedan to sleep on our way to Miami Beach. I have no memory of it at all except my mother complaining about how greasy the food was. The trip up was easy, although I am getting to really dislike small commuter planes. Too cramped. Too claustrophobic. Bathrooms way too small. /p>

Still, the Charleston airport was charming, with many beautiful girls. On our way to our destination, Kiawah Island, we stopped at a Waffle House, my favorite restaurant. We had waffles (or I had a waffle) served by a stunningly beautiful young woman named Nicole. She told me she wanted to be a pediatrician but had no plans to go to college. Hmmm. Sounds a lot like a certain tow-headed son of mine. In the booth ten feet from us two good old boys were smoking, and saying “Bueller, Bueller.” Fame is everywhere.

Our driver was a graduate of the Citadel and told us hair-raising stories of hazing. Really scary. He was now driving a sedan while awaiting a job in the government. I think he wants to be a spook. He seemed like a nice fellow. He drove us assiduously to our destination. Kiawah is a barrier island about ten miles long, carefully cultivated, loaded with golf courses and the homes of the exploiting class, dense jungle, and then a spectacular hotel called the Sanctuary.

My hosts from the Royal Bank of Canada took wifey and me to our rooms. They were AMAZING. Huge, well furnished, overlooking the ocean with surf rolling in endlessly. Spectacular. Maybe the most elegant rooms I have ever been in. The closest competitor would be the Breakers in Palm Beach. But the Sanctuary is Really Deluxe. I shudder to think what our rooms cost. Well, probably not that much actually compared with the other costs our host had to bear. We had room service, which was also good (I had salmon) and then we watched the first few minutes of a movie called The New Land by Terrence Malick. What a disaster. We had to shut it off after a few minutes. Too creepy and way, way, way too pretentious. What happened to him after Badlands?

I stayed up and watched a documentary about the Xingu Indians of the Amazon. They were cute. They don’t spend a lot of time studying or working, but then they seem fairly happy. There was a lot of nudity in that show, but it was sort of unpleasant. I’ll have to think about why.

I went out on the deck and watched the moon over the waves. An immense mosquito bit me and made me crazy with itching but luckily I had some anti-itch cream so I survived.

Wifey was up all night being sick to her stomach. Why? Probably worrying about our son.

p>