10.24.2026 – I think of words like

I think of words like
justice, freedom, liberty …
teachings of Jesus

If life finds you living in or just visiting the low country of South Carolina or Beaufort County to be more specific, you will become aware of the author, Pat Conroy, who grew up and made his home here.

Famous for his books and movies of his books like The Great Santini and Prince of Tides, he wrote about life in this odd county that is 10 miles wide, 40 miles long and 50% under water at high tide.

The wife and I visited the Conroy Literary Center in Beaufort and met Mr. Conroy’s sister and as souvieners of our visit, bought a couple of books.

I must say, that I book I picked out, in my humble opinion, might be the best book I have read by Mr. Conroy.

What I brought home was The Pat Conroy cookbook: Recipes and stories of my life.

The recipes are interesting.

I can’t say it’s a good cookbook as I have to yet to try any of the recipes and readers of this blog will remember that with my long association with cookbooks with working in bookstores, libraries and publishing, that to be a good cookbook, a cookbook must have at least ONE good recipe.

AND there are a lot of BAD cookbooks out there.

Again, not saying the The Pat Conroy Cookbook is a bad cookbook, it’s that the jury is still out but I am seriously looking at the recipe for Dunbar Macaroni, but I digress.

It is the … stories of my life … that make The Pat Conroy cookbook: Recipes and stories of my life such a great read.

I have been reading cookbooks since I first came across a reprint of “French Cooking in 10 Minutes”, which is subtitled “Adapting to the Rhythm of Modern Life (1930).”

Not sure when I picked my now beaten up, water stained copy, but it is one of the books that has stayed with me through all my travels.

But back to The Pat Conroy cookbook: Recipes and stories of my life.

In the cookbook, along with recipes and talking about the dish in particular and incidents that occured serving that dish, Mr. Conroy also discusses how he kept his eye open for moments in his life that he could develop into scenes in some future book.

He might not have a book in mind at the time, but he knew the scene, the moment was special and he would make a mental file of the story to be called later when he found the right place for the story.

One of the stories he tells in the cookbook, was about his relationship with his principal, Mr. Bill Dufford, at Beaufort High School in 1962, and the concept of segregation.

I am of the north.

For me segregation is just another way to say racism.

I have lived in the south now since 2009 and not really the south as Metro Atlanta is not the south and neither is the resort community in South Carolina where I now live, but once we got outside those areas we are in the ‘solid south’ and a somewhat still segregated world.

And I struggle with but it isn’t 1962.

Mr. Conroy writes:

Because their impact cannot be measured, the teachers of the world drift through their praiseless days unaware of the impact and the majesty of their influence. I want to fall on my knees in gratitude whenever I conjure up the faces of those nameless men and women who spent their finest days coaxing and urging me to discover the best part of myself in the pure sunshine of learning.

Because this country dishonors its teachers and humiliates them with lousy pay and a mortifying deficiency of prestige among other professions, they do not receive the gifts of gratitude that brim over in men and women like me when we remember and honor their patient, generous shaping of us into citizens of the brighter world. Bill Dufford occupies a place of highest honor among the teachers who found me directionless and yearning to become a person of consequence as I stumbled through my childhood.

That summer, I took the time to study Bill as he made his way among his fellow townspeople. He attracted people with his authentic approachability, the full attention of his gaze, and the passionate authority he brought to bear on any subject that arose in Harry’s. I wanted people to look at me with the admiration that those Beaufortonians showed to my high school principal.

From watching Mr. Dufford, I learned that the principal of a high school is one of the central players and politicians in the life of a town. I discovered that Dufford was principal in parlous, aggravated times. The subject of integration was on everybody’s minds and lips that summer of 1962.

I got to watch Bill Dufford going through the painful switch from his upbringing as a Southern racist to his transformation into a Southern liberal who would play a courageous part in the integration of South Carolina schools.

“Have you ever gone to school with black kids, Pat?” he asked me at lunch one day.

“Yes sir, I have.”

“What did you think about it?” he asked.

“I never thought anything about it, Mr. Dufford,” I said. “I’m Catholic. It’s a sin if I believe in segregation.”

“That’s what they teach you? I’ll be damned,” he said, amazed. “What kind of sin?”

“The mortal kind. The kind where you burn in hell,” I said.

“What a hell of a way to handle it,” Dufford said. “Why didn’t the Protestant church think of that? …”

“It’s coming,” Dufford said. “It’s coming, and it’s coming soon and I don’t think anyone in this whole damn state is ready for it.”

“Are you ready for it, Mr. Dufford?” I said, the first time I remember teasing Bill Dufford.

He looked at me oddly, then said, “You sorry damn little pissant, you’re damn right I’m ready for it.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately, Pat.

I’m Southern to the bone and was raised to defend the Southern way and I’ve done it my whole life. I’ve defended segregation my entire life, until lately.

I think of segregation and then I think of words like ‘justice’ and ‘freedom’ and ‘liberty.’

I think of the Declaration of Independence and the U.S. Constitution.

I think of the teachings of Jesus Christ.

See where I’m going with this, Pat?”

Segregation.

Was and is a big topic of discussion from the point of view of what is right and what is wrong and at some point, some folks have and others, still have yet, to admit they were wrong.

Think of words like ‘justice’ and ‘freedom’ and ‘liberty.’

Think of the Declaration of Independence and the U.S. Constitution.

Think of the teachings of Jesus Christ.

See where I’m going with this?

Now let’s take the discussion to the current state of affairs in the leadership of this country.

It is a big topic of discussion from the point of view of what is right and what is wrong and at some point, some folks will have to admit they were wrong.

I will go so far as to put forward that maybe its me that has to admit I am wrong.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately.

And I ask you to think about it as well and what side of the question of the current state of affairs in the leadership of this country you come down on.

Think of words like ‘justice’ and ‘freedom’ and ‘liberty.’

Think of the Declaration of Independence and the U.S. Constitution.

Think of the teachings of Jesus Christ.

See where I’m going with this?

Also thinking of those lines:

“That’s what they teach you? I’ll be damned,” he said, amazed. “What kind of sin?”

“The mortal kind. The kind where you burn in hell,” I said.

“What a hell of a way to handle it,” Dufford said. “Why didn’t the Protestant church think of that? …”

I think it’s telling to see what sin’s the Evangelical Church today does focus on as the mortal kind, the kind where you burn in hell … and what they do not.

Somehow all those admonitons about caring for the poor, the widow, the foreigner and handing out a cup of cold water to some one in need have gone by the wayside.

What a hell of a way to handle it.