To a man who brought the low country to the world, and a man with a heart of gold who was always good to my family and the people of South Carolina,
You were a man of irrevocable talent who dazzled me with your ability to use the English language in such a complex and brilliant manner. Your words opened my eyes to the beauty I was surrounded with and made me even more mesmerized by the serenity of the ocean and the place I am so lucky to call home.
You were also a man with a quirky sense of humor who more often than not asked me questions regarding my ability to stay away from drugs.
You were also one who was extremely eager to lend a hand or put a smile on someone's face.
I was introduced to Mr. Conroy when I was a 14-years old as I was roaming our local bookstore, dreadfully looking for my summer reading book.
There he was, a geriatric man sitting at a table eager to strike a conversation. I wasn't all that impressed as I didn't know he was or why he was sitting there or why in the world he would want to talk to me.
He told us so much about himself in just one encounter.
It was then that I had an epiphany. Looking at someone will never tell you anything about them other than whether or not they had good style or good looks. He made me aware of that.
He lived a life of witnessing a whole lot of chaos. He expressed to us so eloquently how much power writing gave him. He talked about his father and his siblings who each played an integral role in who he became as a person and a writer.
My mom wrote him a thank you note, thanking him for being incredibly sweet to her, my sister and me, and opening up his heart to us.
Since that day, he made himself part of our family. He made sporadic surprise visits to my home with gifts in hand and a plethora of stories ready to share. He helped my brother come up with words to describe himself for his college application essays. In true Pat Conroy fashion, he listed a bunch of which were unbecoming and all but two were appropriate or could be considered conventional.
He was a man who expanded my mind with words. A man who inspired me to write more and become mystified by the power of two-dimensional book.
I never was one who enjoyed reading. But, suddenly I did. I also owe that to Pat.
To the man who brought South Carolina to the world, you have been missed.
Happy birthday.
"To describe our growing up in the Lowcountry of South Carolina, I would have to take you to the marsh on a spring day, flush the great blue heron from its silent occupation, scatter marsh hens as we sink to our knees in mud, open you an oyster with a pocketknife and feed it to you from the shell and say, 'There. That taste. That's the taste of my childhood.' - Pat Conroy
