EDITOR'S NOTES: Where will the holidays find you?

This column was originally published in the Oct. 9, 2019 edition of the Journal Scene.

The holiday travel season is coming up, which — if you’re anything like me — means you’re probably watching gas prices carefully and wondering if the tires you bought five years ago are still under warranty.

In the 30-plus years we’ve been married, my wife and I have made our fair share of road trips in all kinds of weather and in all kinds of vehicles.

During that time I’ve developed several systems to ensure a safe arrival.

David B. Kennard

twitter.com/davidbkennard

The first is what I like to call “The Three Ds of Long-distance Driving: Ding Dongs, Doritos and Dr. Pepper.” Those three staples are good for — at most — a 15-hour drive through the high plains of Nevada and over the Blue Mountains of Oregon and Washington. Anything longer and you’re going to need to stop at a Taco Bell for some real food.

Suesan and I married during our last year of college, which meant several trips home to Seattle in her very sporty Toyota Corolla. We’d leave about sunset and drive through the night so we could catch the sunrise over the Columbia River Gorge.

OK, really, we’d leave at sunset so that we didn’t have to drive across the Utah, Nevada and Oregon desert during daylight hours. Inevitably, though, that meant navigating snow-covered roads through the Blue Mountains in a rear-wheel drive pseudo sports car.

On one such trip, as I tried to sleep off my Dorito and Dr. Pepper hangover, I woke up to the car doing circles in the middle of the highway. Like a champ, Suesan pulled out of the spin and landed us safely in a snowbank on the side of the road; the side of the road just over the bridge from the icy depths of the Grande Ronde River.

A few years and four children later, found us in a Dodge Ram van, this time on a trip to the Grand Canyon, and then on to Mesa, Arizona.

We were approaching Flagstaff when we passed a fellow pushing his disabled cross-country touring bicycle along the side of the road — in the middle of nowhere.

“I’m stopping,” I said.

The glaring look I got from my wife told me she wasn’t on board with my decision, but we were driving a 15-year-old Dodge van full of kids and camping gear across the Navajo Indian reservation and we needed the karma.

I strapped his bike to the top of the van and off we went.

As our children grew, so did our travel vehicles. Van number two was a full-size Chevy conversion van that fit our three sons — all 6-foot plus — and shrimpy daughter — 5 foot 8 inches — nicely.

That van, which also pulled a pop-up trailer to many, many destinations, made traveling far more comfortable than that old Toyota Corolla, plus it held a much bigger cooler. Bigger cooler, more Dr. Pepper and more Ding Dongs

Now that we’re mostly empty-nesters, my wife and I have traded our huge vehicles in for much more economical models. Between her little SUV and my motorcycle, we get where we need to go — mostly local trips that don’t require Doritos, Dr. Pepper or Ding Dongs.

But with the holidays approaching and our children scattered all across the country, I’m sure we’ll be back on the road again soon.

David Kennard is the executive editor of Summerville Communications.

EDITOR'S NOTES: This place we call home

By David Kennard

Note: This column was originally published in current edition of Lowcountry Best Times, a magazine that circulates throughout the Lowcountry.

As Lowcountry residents, we’re all here for a reason, and most of us have done our best to make this our home. In fact it’s been that way for hundreds of years.

David B. Kennard

twitter.com/davidbkennard

I know this because of a project I started a year or so ago.

What began as kind of a curious hobby has now turned into a near obsession — that’s what my wife and kids tell me, anyway.

Not far from where I live off Dorchester Road in Summerville, there is a cemetery with a historical marker out front.

The metal sign in front of the Old White Meeting House and Cemetery is one of more than 200 similar markers in Dorchester and Berkeley counties.

You’ve seen them, I’m sure, as you travel along the roads and highways around the area.

There is one on North Main Street near the Earth Fare Supermarket in Summerville that records an abbreviated history of Berkeley County. There’s another one in Moncks Corner right in the median across from the Huddle House at Live Oak Drive and Highway 52. Another one sits on the corner in front of Advance Auto Parts on St. James Avenue and talks about the subdivision of plantations after the Civil War.

Others are scattered in much more obscure places throughout the region.

If you’re up for an afternoon drive, you’ll find a collection of them in north Berkeley County a few miles west of Pineville in the Lowcountry between lakes Moultrie and Marion, the last of which, incidentally, is named for Gen. Francis Marion, also known as the Swamp Fox.

Journal Scene Editor David Kennard takes a picture

of a historical marker in Berkeley County.

Marion is buried in the family cemetery at the former Belle Isle Plantation, owned by Gabrial Marion, brother to Francis. You may recall the film “The Patriot,” in which Mel Gibson portrays a character loosely based on Francis Marion.

At the end of the film there is a scene showing the reconstruction of Marion’s home. Known as Pond Bluff, Marion’s small plantation is now at the bottom of Lake Marion.

It is connections like these that begin to unfold on these little glimpses into the past.

Like you, I never paid much attention to these markers, in fact it was three years after moving here that I first stopped to read the marker at the cemetery near my home. I must have passed it hundreds of times.

When I did finally stop, I snapped a picture with my camera phone. And so began my obsession. I now have a pictorial collection of most of the historical markers in our area.

After a little while, I started posting the pictures, along with some details. You can find my Google map at http://bit.ly/2X85uKK.

My search for historical perspective taught me about Huguenots and Congregationalists. I learned about Cherokees, Creeks, Choctaws, and Chickasaws, and a group of fellows known as the Goose Creek Men.

A lot has changed since the first residents moved out of the swamps, but like the people that came before us, we now call this place our home.

Editor's Notes: Things I learned from having a heart attack

By David Kennard, dkennard@journalscene.com


Originally Published May 8, 2019 in the Summerville Journal Scene


I would be remiss if I let another day go by without giving thanks to the many people who sent well wishes, kind thoughts and prayers my way during the last couple of weeks.

Two weeks ago Thursday my wife forced me into the car and drove me to the hospital when I told her I was having some chest and arm pain.

Turns out I was having a heart attack.

Huh. Who knew? Certainly not me.

David B. Kennard

twitter.com/davidbkennard

I mean I’m not the healthiest person around, but heck, I just ran a 5K a few weeks ago. OK, I use the term “ran” loosely, but still I finished in the top 10 in my age class.

And my last physical showed no signs of anything serious.

The doctor told me to add some regular exercise to my routine and lay off the Girl Scout Cookies.

So I did, sort of. I cut out the Thin Mints (but not the Samoas — I mean that would be ridiculous). Beyond that I went back to my regular routine of strawberry Pop Tarts for breakfast and several Cherry Pepsis (five or six) throughout the day.

Fun tip: As the father of four children, I’ve learned that there are two things that will bump you to the front of the line in the ER.

First, mention you’re having contractions;

Second, talk about your chest pain.

Granted, I’ve always been with a very pregnant wife when I’ve used the first tip, but Tip No. 2 came in handy during my most recent visit.

Many years ago when I was a young kid working toward his Eagle Scout rank, one of the things I learned was the signs of a heart attack.

Now, years later and serving as a scoutmaster of a local troop, I now know why Boy Scouts spend so much time learning how to recognize a heart attack.

Here’s the thing, I kind of thought something was up when I was in a staff meeting and I felt a little off — indigestion and some weird numbness in my arm. It went away after a while so I forgot about it.

A couple of days later it happened again so I sent a text off to my wife, who happened to be with a good friend — an ER nurse. She fired back, “Take some Asprin and call 911. I’ll meet you at the hospital.”

Right, like I was going to just leave work in the middle of the day.

After arriving at the hospital a little while later, I discovered I had a blood sugar rating of 500 mg/dL and my triponin levels were signaling heart attack.

In case you’re wondering, a healthy blood sugar rating is between 70 and 120, and finding triponin enzymes in your blood means your heart is screaming for help.

I cannot say enough about the nurses and doctors who jumped into action to ensure that no damage came to my heart.

I also can’t say enough about the Trident cafeteria staffer who refused to sell me a bag of Fritos without my nurse’s permission. They train them well.

Since my hospital visit, I’ve learned a handful of things.

Nurses are awesome. There is not room in this newspaper to sing their praises. Their dedication to their job and helping their patients is beyond criticism.

I certainly saw no one on the nursing staff playing cards.

Hospital food really isn’t that bad. I mean scrambled eggs and sausage for breakfast. I’ve eaten worse than that — OK a lot worse than that — on Boy Scout over-nighters.

Beyond the incessant finger pricks and blood pressure tests in the middle of the night, the worst part of my whole ordeal has been giving up Cherry Pepsi. Did I mention I drank a lot of Cherry Pepsi?

A trip to the hospital is one way to get out of a pressing deadline, but it certainly is no vacation.

And, despite bringing my laptop to the hospital to sneak some work in, it was difficult to type with an IV in my arm, a finger monitor clamped to my index finger and sore fingertips from all the blood sugar testing.

Probably the most valuable lesson I learned (and don’t tell my wife I said this) is to listen to my wife. I was perfectly willing to crack open another Cherry Pepsi and brush off the incident as indigestion.

Turns out that would have been a mistake. My wife earned her Eagle Scout rank that day.

David Kennard is the executive editor of Summerville Communications, which publishes the Berkeley Independent, Goose Creek Gazette and Summerville Journal Scene. Contact him at dkennard@journalscene.com or 843-873-9424. Follow him on Twitter @davidbkennard.

EDITOR'S NOTES: Resolve to be a good driver in 2019

Crossing Main Street in downtown Summerville is a little like walking across an alligator swamp dripping in steak sauce.

Sadly, I’m afraid to report, Summerville is not alone in this state. According to several recent reports, South Carolina has among the worst drivers in the country.

The website carinsurancecomparison.com ranks South Carolina as having the second worst drivers in the country.

Alaska occupies the number one position for having the worst drivers in the U.S., according to the annual study.

David B. Kennard
twitter.com/davidbkennard

But among the lower 48, our state leads the way, followed by New Mexico, Louisiana, North Carolina and Nevada rounding out the five worst states for driving.

Another study by smartasset.com ranks South Carolina just out of the bottom 10, thanks to our miserable drunken driving habits. According to the study released in November, 4.34 drivers out of 1,000 were arrested on DUI charges. Mississippi took the number one spot for having the worst drivers in that nation.

And, according to the weekly reports that I get from the SC Department of Public Safety, things are not trending any better.

“As of December 30, 989 people have died on South Carolina highways, compared to 988 highway deaths during the same time period in 2017,” the most recent report states.

Those fatalities include 150 pedestrians, according to state officials. Counting just the motor vehicle occupants who died in 2018, 348 were not wearing seat belts.

Neighboring Dorchester County, saw an increase in traffic fatalities over last year, but trended down over the last four years: 2015: 33; 2016: 30; 2017: 15; 2018: 21.

Berkeley County saw a similar trend despite having more fatalities: 2015:35, 2016:36; 2017:34; 2018:34.

Truth be told, my daughter asked me to write this column. She drives from Summerville to Mt. Pleasant everyday for work, so she frequently witnesses some of the most deplorable driving our region has to offer.

“Dad, you should write about how bad drivers are,” I think were her exact words.

I am certain that, like her, you have seen plenty of knuckleheads on our local roads.

Consequently, I’ve developed a list of reminders to help us all do our part to make our roads safe.

First: Buckle up. It takes only seconds and it saves lives. See stats above.

Second: Use your flipping mirrors. For everything that you consider holy, use your mirrors.

As many of you know, I commute to work and back on a motorcycle. Don’t tell my wife, but I’ve had quite a few near misses thanks to idiots who don’t look. Granted, motorcycles are invisible, but still, come on people: use your mirrors.

Third: Use your mirrors, did I mention that?

Fourth: If you have the right of way, take it. If you don’t, don’t. I know we live in the South and people are a little more cordial here; it’s something we Southerners pride ourselves on, but I refuse to break the right-of-way rule just because you’re waving me through. Stop holding up traffic just to be kind to me. I’d rather wait and live than gamble on your kindness and get t-boned by the garbage truck I can’t see because you’re blocking my view, just go. Go, for heaven’s sake. Just go.

That said, fifth: Stop at stop signs. I know, right? Stop means stop.

Sixth: Stop at red lights — even when you’re turning right.

Seventh: Stop for pedestrians. Really this should be first. We keep talking about making our town a walkable town, where you get the things you need by taking a short walk. Well, that’s kind of hard to do when you are dead.

Please, when you see someone in a crosswalk, display some of that Southern charm and let them cross. This includes crosswalks at Walmart and other shopping centers. Yes, you might miss that open spot and have to park another 50 feet away, but we can all probably use the exercise.

Next, obey the speed limit.

Let me qualify that, Obey the speed limit on Bacons Bridge Road, when I am driving my motorcycle at 8 a.m. and 6 p.m. every weekday. I know, it’s hard to figure out; some places it’s 35 miles per hour, then it switches to 45 miles per hour, but it’s never 55 miles per hour or higher. Slow it down.

Note to Summerville police, you didn’t hear it from me, but did you know that people regularly drive 55 or more in the 35/45 miles per hour zone on Bacons Bridge.

Addendum to Summerville Police note above: Motorcyclists wearing black helmets and driving black motorcycles never break the speed limit on Bacons Bridge Road at 8 a.m. and 6 p.m. every weekday, so you can just ignore them.

What are we up to eighth, ninth? When it’s raining, which it does from time to time around here, turn your lights on — not your hazard lights. Like we don’t know it’s raining.

It’s illegal in many states — although not specifically addressed in South Carolina laws — to drive in the rain with your hazards on.

Here is what AAA says about SC hazard light rules: “Hazard lights may be used while driving for the purpose of warning the operators of other vehicles of the presence of a vehicular traffic hazard requiring the exercise of unusual care in approaching, overtaking or passing.

Save your hazards for when you’re hauling that trailer that doesn’t have working tail lights.

In the rain, though, it’s distracting and causes other drivers to break suddenly, and it prevents you from letting other drivers know when you are making a lane change.

Finally: I mentioned the mirrors thing, right?

Look, our county is booming and we’ve got more people moving here every day. Many of them are bringing their ridiculous driving habits with them — I’m talking to you Ohio.

Please do your part to set the example. And in the words of Sgt. Phil Esterhaus, “Let’s be careful out there.”

We’ve got a whole year to improve some of those statistics.

EDITOR'S NOTES: Letter writers a key part of community newspaper

Newspapers, like grocery stores offer many things to many consumers. But most newspapers — this one included — have three main parts: news, advertising and opinion or commentary.

News content is written by reporters.

Advertising is content paid for by businesses or other private parties — advertisers who pay to have their message printed in the form of ads.

David Kennard
Twitter @davidbkennard.

Opinion or commentary comes from a variety of places, but is limited to this page.

Many of the opinions found here come in the form of letters to the editor, which provide readers an opportunity to express an opinion. We published almost every letter we receive.

Below is a list of writers who submitted letters in 2018:

Adriaan Kwist, Alex Posadas, Amanda Ebel, Ben Hough, Beverly Cleary, Bo Blanton, Bob Mongillo, Bob Orenstein, Brandi Graham, Brooks P. Moore, Carmen Klapperich, Charles Billings, Charles E. Shuster, Charlie Templeton, Cheryl Cargill, Christye Jefferson, Daniel Rogers, Danielle Hostler, Darlene Mulhern, Denise H. Creed, Dennis Ashley, Diane C. Frankenberger, Doc Ardrey, Dodie Altman, Don Bailey, Edward B. Hernandez, Edward Stank, Frank Bouknight, Frank Freeman, Gary Fabian, Gary Lukridge, CEO, George McDaniel, Gerard E. Ziegler, Gigi Adams, Gigi Uluc, Heather Cong, J.J. Messervy, James Hill, James Myers, James Sims, Jamie Lopez, Jan Freeman, Jean Woods, Jerry Brittsan, Jim Bailey, Joan Holloman Brown, JoDee Robinson, Joe Cali, Joe Meehan, John Adel, John Drawdy, John Mott, John Nicholas Hayes, Joseph Meehan, Josuan Baughman, Keith Timmons, Kevin Weathers, Kim Smith, Larel Morris, Larry Hargett, Linda Ensor, Linda Shelbourne, Lou Spatholt, Lynn Finucan, Lynn Greer, Maia Emery, Marilyn Iverson, Mark Fuller, Mark Pilgrim, Marrie Dingle, Marty Thomas, Marvin McKie, Mary Ann Bridgman, Michael DiDato, Noah Riley, Paul Vecellio, Pauline Collier, Pete Hautem, Peter Gorman, Preston Giet, Renay Marsh, Richard Richardson, Rick Crawford, Rick Dawson, Robert Iannace Jr., Robert Pratt, Robin Dudley, Robyn Wittenberg Dudley, Roger Brown, Ron Collier, Ron McGuire, S.M. Salmon, Sallie Ramos, Sam Clark, Samuel Daniel, Sarah Redmond, Selina Hathaway, Sherri Bardsley, Shirley Hunter, Stan Iverson, Steven Hawkins, Sue George, Sue Morse, Susan Mock, Suzanne Brown, Terry Jenkins, Tim Higgins, Tonia Nottingham, Torie Clark, Tr Moore, Tricia Melton, Wesley Donehue.

As the editor in “letters to the editor,” I look forward to reading another year’s worth of letters.

David Kennard is the executive editor of the Berkeley Independent. Contact him at dkennard@journalscene.com or 843-873-9424. Follow him on Twitter @davidbkennard.