A Letter of Dedication to Charleston, SC – This is the Power of Charleston

By Mark A. Leon

It seems like only yesterday I came to Charleston.  A small peninsula community sheltered from the Southern heat by the cool breeze of a passing carriage and the fragrant protection of the trees hovering over the city streets.

Up above, as I lingered on the corner of Broad and Meeting the sounds of the bells of St. Michael’s chimed with the eloquence of an orchestra of angels lined on a bed of clouds.

As the years passed by snap shots in my memory of the the little things continue to linger.  Charleston became my city of hope in a time of personal rebirth. It welcomed me with open arms when I arrived with nothing more than a car, clothes and a new start.

A charming community humbled by its history, enriched by its compassion and warmed by a spirit of gentleness.

In good times there were smiles of happiness all around; in bad, cries of love,  because Charleston doesn’t know how to be defeated.  Like a band of brothers, this city finds a spirit of family, a gleam of creative renaissance and a masquerade of celebration.

From the song and dance of the festivals to the quiet moments of reflection as the sun rises over the harbor, Charleston has become the canvas of a masterpiece.  Painted with the colors of Rainbow Row and painted with the strokes of Southern Charm, each stroke is a new chapter in our continuing saga.

This is the power of Charleston.

I recall a Christmas morning, not to many years ago.  A misty rain fell from the sky and not a car or human to be found except for one biker turning off of Morris to King.  I walked down the center of one of the traditionally busiest intersections (King and Calhoun).  No cars, nor voices, nor carriages; just peace.  In the Holy City; the Southern Jewel, I was in a place of absolute tranquility.  Every thought and memory escalated a thousand times in my brain.  I could hear the sound of everything and everyone in the silence.  A balance fell upon me.  In that moment of complete vulnerability, I was absolutely safe.

That is the power of Charleston.

I fell in love with the Cooper River Bridge the first time I set foot here.  I said, “If I could marry an inanimate object, I would marry this bridge and because of this structure I am going to move here.”  One weekend is all it took.  Two days and the people, city, beaches, the architectural beauty, the history and the rich traditions said “Welcome,  our door is open to you”.

That is the power of Charleston.

One year later, I have yet to stand before the church.  I remember every moment from the time I heard the news until the next day when it processed.  I went to The Battery on that Thursday morning after the shooting at 6:00 AM.  I watched the sun slowly rise from the East, over the bridge and rest above the harbor.  As I sat on a bench at White Point Garden a charming woman sat and spoke to me while her elderly dog rested on my foot.  Later on, two joggers ran by nodding and saying good morning to me and finally three ladies offered me a pamphlet about hope.  There was no discussion of what happened that evening before.  We hadn’t quite understood or processed the magnitude.  We knew it was an event we would never forget.  Over the next few weeks, gestures of kindness spread throughout the city.  Signs of resilience and promise filled the streets.  We held out our arms and accepted all in need of support.

That is the power of Charleston.

Today, I look back at the evolution of this city.  From our origins at Charleston Towne Landing to the Legend of Joseph Riley Jr; from the first shots of the Civil War to a celebration of worldwide culture in Spoleto USA 40, Charleston is resilient.  Like its citizens, with their simple yet refined charm, it holds a special place where respect, kindness and love continues to overpower all.