Letters to the Editor - May 23, 2019
My friends call me a news junkie. Not so anymore. I stopped watching national news over a month ago when the politicians inside the Beltway decided that personal vendettas are more important than the security and future of our country. But when a friend suggested that I watch the Tuesday night City Council meeting on May 14, I decided to see how our City is progressing.
Oh, what a mistake! I originally was unsettled when the story broke about Mr. Tecklenburg using a trust for personal gain. Then we were to learn that his victim was an elderly retired school teacher who trusted him with her life savings.
But the meeting’s revelations about continued improprieties has me acutely concerned about the man who is the overseer of the financial and moral compass of our city. Habits of improper behavior are acquired over long periods of time and hard to change.
It is prudent and incumbent upon City Council to take the helm and steer our ship back in the correct direction before the obvious lack of leadership sinks us. That’s why we elected them. The call for an audit of the executive branch is necessary for transparency and to insure good stewardship of our City’s financial position.
(Editor’s Note: Mr. Alexander, served as a member of Charleston City Council from 2008 to 2016).
Boating: A master class
As my boat nestled into the water from the boatlift, I could feel a pulsing excitement building within. It was boating season again. And I was physically and emotionally ready for fun and relaxation that was sure to ensue. I turned the key and the trusty motor immediately cranked to life…an excellent sign that this would be a carefree boating season. I pulled away from the lift and pointed the boat toward the dock to tie up and get ready for a pleasurable weekend on the water.
Suddenly the motor stopped. I furiously glanced across the dash to see if I could easily identify the issue. The gas gauge read empty and there was no voltage in the battery. And the tide was pushing me past the dock. Did I have a paddle? Before I could answer that question, I felt myself jumping into the creek with the boat line in hand and stroking ferociously toward the dock. Alas the strength of the tide was too much, and I had already lost the ability to reach the dock.
Exhausted and dejected, I floated toward the marsh on the side of the creek. The next phase of the “plan” was to walk through the pluff mud and attempt to get the boat back toward the dock close enough to tie it off. At this point the motor dug deeply into the pluff mud and my dog, Beresford (named after the very creek in which I currently struggled), leapt off of the dock to my “rescue.”
Beresford’s nails scraped against my shoulders and arms as I fought to pull the bow of the boat toward the shore. Gargling in water I ordered him to “go back out” several times. Alas that directive was not one of the seven common commands on which we had been working. As a side note he excels at the “play ball for hours without getting exhausted” command.
Eventually I struggled to board the boat, raise the motor, convince Beresford to go to shore using the vaunted fake tennis ball throw technique, re-enter the water, and walk the boat close enough to the dock to tie it off. I filled a gas can with 2 gallons and cautiously drove the boat to the Daniel Island Marina for 48 more gallons (in a 50-gallon tank.) Ironically enough, the gas gauge still doesn’t work and is showing empty…mirroring my tolerance for the boat itself.
Is there a boating safety message to be gleaned from my total incompetence? Maybe a nugget of knowledge that may help other boaters as we embark on the summer months? Perhaps, although I haven’t a clue as to what that message might include. My thoughtful and reasoned response to the situation has been swift and elegant. I’m shopping for a bigger boat.