By Thomas Pratt
The most memorable part of growing up in the Lowcountry is the sounds and smells. For example: The smell of pluff mud rounding Bellamy Curve at low tide on a really hot summer day; of being so hot that you couldn’t wait for the tide to come in so you would crawl out to the water on your stomach, avoiding the oyster shells; crabbing with a crab line and a chicken neck; water skiing for hours and never see another boat on Lucy Point Creek; driving all over Beaufort County in a Model A, thinking that no one knew who was driving; hunting with Clyde Priester all over Beaufort County, getting really hungry and drinking a hot 7-Up and eating vienna sausages and saltines that had been under the seat of his Jeep so long that carbon dating would need to be used to determine their age; watching Mac Bellamy, Johnny Jones and innumerable others observing the task I was performing with as many sets of instruction as there were supervisors; learning that there was beer other than Pabst Blue Ribbon; spending endless hours with Melvin Lane hunting in the morning, skiing in the afternoon and driving over to Hilton Head at night; duck hunting at Combahee Plantation with my father; and learning how to play pool and foosball at Harvey’s Backdoor (the other stuff I learned with Clyde and the Silo crowd).
The memories have never left and neither has the thought of coming back.

<em>Beaufort Then &amp; Now: This moment in Beaufort’s history is an excerpt from the book “Beaufort ... Then and Now,” an anthology of memories compiled by Holly Kearns Lambert. Copies of this book may be purchased at Beaufort Book Store. For information or to contribute your memory, contact Holly at lowcountrymemories@hotmail.com or beaufortmemories@gmail.com.</em>