The Op-Ed Page

“We also have a twice-a-month farmer’s market on Main Street.”

By Paul V. DeMarco
Guest Columnist

I enjoyed reading Seth Taylor’s July 29th article “South Carolina is booming, but the Pee Dee is shrinking” which reports on data from the S.C. Revenue and Fiscal Affairs Office. The office estimates that the number of people living in the Pee Dee could shrink by 17 percent by 2042. The most provocative projection is that some counties could lose nearly a third of their populations.

I read with some concern, since I’ve lived in Marion since 1993. My wife and I raised our children here, and we expect to live the rest of our lives here. However, although I’m not a demographer, I have reason for optimism.

First, as Taylor reminds us later in the article, “It’s difficult to make projections for next year, let alone the next 20.” Second, I have anecdotal evidence that there are countertrends at work that may well cause the Pee Dee to grow.

As I mentioned in one of my recent columns, my neighborhood, which had been almost completely white since its development decades ago, has seen a welcome addition of black families in the last five years. Our society’s evolution toward equality may make a tangible economic difference for rural counties. Blacks (who make up 56% of Marion County’s population) can now live wherever they want in the Pee Dee with no expectation of hostility. The era of redlining and white flight are over. There is no reason to migrate to Atlanta or Detroit to feel welcomed and respected.

Taylor quotes Joette Dukes, the executive director of the Pee Dee Council of Governments, who describes the “defeatism” and “apathy” that can occur when rural areas lose population. Per Dukes bio, she has over 30 years’ experience with PDCOG, so she knows of what she speaks. She laments the lack of jobs which force some young people to move even if they would prefer to stay. But she makes one claim with which I disagree. Taylor quotes her as saying that some young people are leaving the rural Pee Dee to look for “a home they can actually afford.”

I think that, in reality, housing prices are a big draw for rural S.C. counties. When I encounter folks looking to buy a home in Marion, my standard response is, “Buy on Wednesday – It’s BOGO for homes in Marion County on Wednesdays.”

My three closest new neighbors are transplants from out of state (two of three from the Northeast) who had no connection to Marion but moved here in part because of the low cost of housing and lower property taxes. I have another new friend who moved from Iowa. He is a digital manager who can work from anywhere and moved to Marion after seeing an affordable home on the web.

My intuition is that we will see more of these types of newcomers in the future: retirees from the North who are tired of the cold and the traffic; and younger, digital workers who are drawn to the natural beauty and amicability that small towns afford.

In addition, our proximity to Myrtle Beach will inevitably result in some spillover. Both of my northern neighbors started their home searches at the beach but concluded it was too crowded and expensive.

Schools are a top consideration for native parents deciding to stay or transplants weighing whether to relocate here. It is true that rural Pee Dee schools don’t look great on paper. But both of my children went to Marion’s public schools from kindergarten through high school and received a solid education. They both attended college on academic scholarship and are both physicians. Since America’s public school covenant is that every child deserves an education, schools in poor areas encounter many students that don’t enter school ready to learn and don’t have enough parental support. Those students are reflected in schools’ data averages. But in every public school there is a cadre of students who are prepared and motivated and teachers who know how to teach them.

My children also benefitted from attending rural public school in some unexpected ways. For example, although they were handicapped by my genes (short and slow), they were both able to play varsity soccer as starters all four years of high school, which would not have been possible at a larger, urban school.

Taylor’s article serves as a warning worth heeding. His opening descriptions “Boarded-up buildings on Main Street… fewer people in the pews on Sunday” are realities. But after the devastating twin losses of tobacco and textiles in the ’90s and ’00s, Marion has rebounded. Main Street will never look the way it did in the ’50s with a department store, a furniture store, a Western Auto, and a movie theatre. But several businesses have opened over the past few years in previously empty storefronts, including a marvelous coffee shop called the Groundout, owned by a beloved local family. We also have a twice-a-month farmer’s market on Main Street. It happens in a space left by a restaurant that burned. The creation of a public green space called the Marion Commons in response to that devastating fire is symbolic of how small towns can revive themselves.

Call me in 2042. I’m hoping to still be living in a thriving, growing Marion.

A version of this column appeared in the September 18th edition of the Post and Courier-Pee Dee.

The Op-Ed Page

By Paul V. DeMarco
Guest Columnist

If you spend a lot of time with digital news and social media (please don’t), you might think that conservative and liberal Christians have little in common and that we despise each other because of our doctrinal disputes over gay clergy, transgender people, abortion, etc.

But down here in the pews, it’s mostly about the work of the church – caring for your congregation, your neighborhood, and the wider world.

Jesus asked us to “make disciples of all the nations” (Matthew 28:19) by “feeding his sheep” (John 21:17). My layperson’s interpretation of Jesus’ commands is that he wants us to improve people’s lives – feeding, sheltering, visiting, healing – caring for them in the myriad ways that one person can show love to another. Once we do that, they will have a better idea of who he is and may be moved to become his followers, too.

The beauty of the church is that we meet every week to worship and to face human need, both near and far, together. It is a unique uniting force in society. Yes, the church has done some terrible things historically, which I acknowledge and condemn. But that same sin and corruption that drives wars and injustice and abuse also exist outside the church. In my experience, the church has been an overwhelmingly positive force.

Which brings me to my annual sojourn to Hampton County with Salkehatchie Summer Service. Since 1978, Salk has brought United Methodists and other people of faith together to spend a week rehabilitating homes for South Carolinians. The adults supervise teenagers 14 to 18, and the teens are the focus of the ministry. We want them to understand poverty in a new and provocative way and to realize their connection to it. Every summer, dozens of camps gather in various locations all over the state, involving hundreds of young people in total. The one I have attended since 2008 is fittingly housed at Camp Christian, an old-time Baptist campground.

My team of 4 adults and 8 young people were putting a new roof on an old, but well-built, 4-room home. On Monday afternoon, it started to rain (Monday rain is the bane of Salk roofers because the old shingles are off, but the house is not dried in). We tarped the roof well, but there was a deluge and the inside of the house was drenched. The homeowner couple watched despairingly as their mattress, upholstered chairs, and ruined possessions were unceremoniously thrown into a dumpster in the front yard. The couple gathered some clothes and belongings and we paid for a hotel.

The next day, deacons from two local churches came to the house to see how they could help. These were retired men who belonged to rural Baptist churches. We didn’t talk politics or religion, but I suspect that I am significantly more liberal that they are. But those differences, so prominent on social media and in the minds of many who do not understand why churches exist, did not matter at all. Our goal, about which we were completely unified, was helping the homeowners. On Tuesday, it wasn’t clear that the house could be saved. A thorough inspection by our team after the rain had revealed some previously undiscovered electrical problems that would require extensive rewiring (which was in addition to some significant rot in the floor joists about which we already knew).

For the next three days, we acted on faith. We had come to put a roof on, and we put it on. When the inspector came Friday and determined that the house was salvageable, we cheered.

What impressed me most about our week was the deacons. Every day one of them stopped by the house to check on us and the family. And not just casually. They were there to solve the problem, to love their neighbor in the most tangible and pragmatic way. “Well, we can’t pay for them to stay in a hotel very long.” “Can we find them a place that is close enough to their jobs?” (They had a single car and different work schedules). “If we knock the house down and start over, how will they afford the increase in property tax?”

The deacons, the Salk camp director, and a local Methodist minister, met to formulate a plan. Temporary shelter, better than their current home, was secured until the home could be repaired. All their salvageable belongings were packed up and moved to their new residence. The Salk camp had to end after a week, but we are committed to returning as many times as it takes to join forces with the deacons and other friends of the couple until the house is habitable again.

This is the work of the church. But no media outlet would write about this. Why not? First of all, these kinds of displays of Christian love are too commonplace to be considered news. Second, examine how you feel after reading this. Are you upset or angry? Have I dunked on a group that you dislike? No? Well, that answers the question. This is a story about ordinary people who have some differences in their world views. But those differences pale in comparison to the common ground we share. My week in Hampton was a refreshing demonstration of what happens when we focus on what connects us and try to make our corner of the world a little better.

A version of this column appeared in the August 14^th edition of the Post and Courier-Pee Dee.

The Op-Ed Page

By Paul V. DeMarco
Guest Columnist

My experience with injustice has, fortunately, never been personal. I’m a white, married, straight man who attends a Protestant church, so no one has ever denied me a seat at any table because of who I was. I was born in New York, but when I was 7 years old, my family moved to Charleston, where I entered second grade. It didn’t take me long to understand that not everyone was accepted as readily or treated as well as I was. Racism was easy for even a child to spot. When I was taken shopping at Belk, I saw a cross-section of the community that was missing in my neighborhood, school, and church.

I’m not sure when I first became aware of anti-Semitism. I would guess I learned about it in middle school when we studied the Holocaust. I had the advantage of attending a private school during the 1970s that had a substantial population of Jewish students. I was impressed by the discipline of some of my Jewish friends, who after a full day of regular school then attended Hebrew school. One Orthodox classmate once showed up late for an extracurricular meeting on a Saturday morning. “Sorry, I’m late,” he said sheepishly, “But I had to walk.” (Orthodox Jews are not permitted to drive or ride in cars on the Sabbath). I do remember occasionally hearing my classmates make comments disparaging Jews, but these were few and far between. I think it’s fair to say that my Jewish friends felt safe and respected at our school, although not necessarily celebrated. I graduated from high school feeling that Jews my age would have essentially the same opportunities I had.

In December of 1982, during my second year in college, that belief was challenged. I attended a debutante ball at a South Carolina country club with the woman who would eventually become my wife. I didn’t know most of the other guests, so I made many introductions. When curious partygoers asked from whence I came, I proudly told them “Brooklyn.” Some of the members of the club left our conversations worried that this loud kid from Brooklyn with the big nose and olive skin might be Jewish (I’m actually Sicilian). Jews, of course, were prohibited from being members.

The next day, my future mother-in-law told me that questions about my origin had gotten back to her. She had assured all those worried that a Jew might have polluted the WASP-y ballroom atmosphere that, no, I wasn’t Jewish. However, since then, I generally respond to the question “Where are you from?” (which in the South means “Where were you born?”) with a dodge. I tell people I was raised in Charleston, which is better received from those who might harbor misgivings about Yankees or Jews.

Jews (and, of course, blacks) were not welcome at many Southern private clubs until recently. For example, Forest Lake Country Club in Columbia, which was founded in 1923 and counts Governor Henry McMaster as one of its members, did not admit its first black member until 2017.

I’ve been revisiting my debutante experience as anti-Semitism has resurfaced around the war in Gaza. My naïve sense prior to October 7^th was that the anti-Semitism that I encountered in 1982 had gradually atrophied to the point where it would continue to decline and die. But sadly, anti-Semitism seems impervious – it’s like the fungal spores that can lie dormant in the earth for years only to spring to life as a carpet of mushrooms in favorable conditions.

My one night as a Jew has helped me form my current opinion of the conflict in Gaza. First, Israel must continue to exist. Second, Palestinians must also have their own state and the right of self-determination.

I fully support the rights of those who protest peacefully in support of the Palestinians and against the war which is killing so many civilians. Before the war there was already growing opposition to the Netanyahu government. Netanyahu’s provocative policies such as settlement expansion, the killing of Palestinian demonstrators, and restrictions on Palestinian trade and freedom of movement were staunchly opposed by many in Israel and the United States.

But what hasn’t come across in any protests I have seen is any sense of shame or regret for Hamas’ brutality on October 7^th, not to mention years of suicide bombings, indiscriminate rocket fire, or their grotesque tactic of using their own people as human shields.

Despite our hope for peace and justice for the Palestinians, most Americans rightly find it impossible to be sympathetic toward Hamas. The attack on October 7^th will surely be one of the most evil acts of my lifetime. The barbarity of invading homes, of meticulously killing entire families, and of raping and mutilating the victims, is some of the most base behavior of which humans are capable. No one should cheer for this.

The key to many successful protest movements is their ability to find and elevate principled, sacrificial leaders. The Bible provides examples in Moses and Jesus. More recent examples include Frederick Douglass, Susan B. Anthony, Mahatma Gandhi, Martin Luther King, Jr., and Nelson Mandela. Neither Netanyahu nor the Hamas leader, Yahya Sinwar, fit this mold. The current conflict cannot be resolved until both the Palestinians and the Israelis elect new and better leaders. That is a rallying cry that would unite campus protesters from both sides and point toward a solution.

A version of this column appeared in the May 16^th, 2024, edition of the Post and Courier-Pee Dee.

The Op-Ed Page

By Paul V. DeMarco
Guest Columnist

I was driving towards Johnsonville from Marion on a recent Sunday to make a home visit and had to make a detour because of a wreck on the Highway 378 bridge. The glory of the early spring afternoon mitigated the inconvenience and took me to parts of the Pee Dee I had never travelled. As I passed Good Hope United Methodist Church in Hemingway, an irregularity in the large marble sign in front caught my eye. I circled back and parked to investigate. The word “United” had been covered over with duct tape. (See image below.)

This, sadly, was not the work of a prankster. It was an indication of the schism that is dividing the United Methodist Church (UMC). Like many denominations, we have struggled with the role of the LGBTQ community in the church. After years of discussion by our leadership and in local congregations, the break has finally come. Those churches who are unwilling to see LGBTQ people as full human beings, able to be ordained and to marry each other, are leaving. Many are joining a new conservative denomination, the Global Methodist Church. Others will remain independent or join older denominations with similar views about homosexuality. But whatever road they choose, they have given up on the United Methodist experiment that began in 1968.

I passed two other small, formerly United Methodist Churches on my detour back to Johnsonville, Ebenezer and Old Johnsonville, both of which are disaffiliating from the UMC. They had both removed the “United” from their premises, the former by pulling metal letters out of its brick sign, the latter by painting over the offending adjective.

Disaffiliating pastors and members commonly cite the half-dozen biblical verses that pertain to homosexuality as their reason for leaving. But we in the UMC have for decades routinely ignored biblical teachings about the role of women, adultery, and slavery, among other topics. Our Southern Baptist brethren interpret the Bible such that it excludes women from the pulpit. We in the UMC treat women as equals and allow them full access to roles as ministers and bishops. Disregard of verses such as those that condemn adulterers to death (e.g., Leviticus 20:10 and Deuteronomy 22:22) and verses that condone slavery (e.g., Exodus 21:20-21) is standard practice in the UMC.

The Bible is a big, complicated book which is often contradictory. Every denomination and all Christians must use their best judgment when interpreting scripture. It is therefore disheartening and surprising that so many churches would use such scant scriptural logic to split the church. But an astounding number have. Nationwide, the UMC is losing about 25% of its churches (roughly 7,500 out of 30,000). Most heartbreaking to me is the trapping of good friends of mine in unwelcoming churches. I’ve been shocked by the good people I know who have voted to leave, including a friend I greatly admire.

She is a beautiful human being, one of those people who treats everyone with genuine respect no matter who they are. I have seen her work with the very poorest and the very richest, and with people of all races, religions, and sexual orientations. She treats them all with the dignity they deserve.

I knew she had worked with many LGBTQ patients with full acceptance, so I asked her if she would be willing to talk with me about her decision to leave. She agreed, as I knew she would.

It was a quiet, deep conversation between a Christian brother and sister struggling to discern God’s will. She told me that she was deeply ambivalent about the decision, and that it had moved her to tears. She has gay members of her extended family that she loves. Her congregation includes a family with adult gay siblings. The vote to leave the church was unanimous except for the siblings and their mother. She knew that she would likely never see them again in church, which was upsetting to her.

When I asked her why she voted to leave, she expressed some fears. She mentioned a fear of extremists in the UMC leadership moving the church in a direction that was counter to her understanding of the Bible. She raised the possibility of a cross-dressing or transgender minister as something she could not tolerate.

She mentioned her teenage son and conversations they had had about LGBTQ people. He was accepting of his gay friends and relatives. My friend said without hesitation that if her son turned out to be gay, she would be unconditionally supportive of him. “I know that’s true,” I responded. She is such an open, loving mother that a gay child would be blessed to have her as a parent. “But,” I said, “now you have guaranteed that you will not be able to show that love to a gay member of your church.” We were silent for a few moments. I thanked her, and our conversation ended.

There will be some shuffling of congregations over the next few years as Methodists sort through how they want to express their values. In my church, which remains a United Methodist Church, we have seen some new faces that have come from disaffiliating churches. Perhaps we will lose some of our more conservative members.

My friend will likely stay in her disaffiliating church because of all the ties she has to it, even if it doesn’t represent who she is in her life outside the church. In her work, she lives out the parable of the Good Samaritan. But she has voted to be part of a congregation that, if you are gay, passes by on the other side.

A version of this column appeared in the April 18th edition of the Post and Courier-Pee Dee.

The Op-Ed Page

By Paul V. DeMarco
Guest Columnist

By some estimates, there are still about a quarter of Americans who haven’t settled on a presidential candidate. I had a recent conversation with one of them. He’s a smart, middle-aged, college-educated man who is somewhat more conservative than me. But he has unplugged from politics for his mental health. When our conversation turned to the election, he parroted the conservative media narrative about Biden being senile.

I admitted to him that I to had been stunned by Special Counsel Hur’s report describing Biden as a “sympathetic, well-meaning, elderly man with a poor memory.” I spend some time with conservative media, which for months had been peddling inaccurate descriptions of Biden as a doddering senior ready for the nursing home. But then I watched the entire State of the Union address and was reassured.

So I asked my friend to watch 15 minutes of the SOTU. I knew he wouldn’t agree with some of Biden’s policies, and conceded that he is not as animated as Trump. But I expected he would come away from the viewing confident that Biden was not cognitively impaired. As a general internist, I have seen hundreds of patients with dementia of all varieties in my career, and it would be impossible for someone with dementia to have given that speech or handled the heckling as he did.

I also encouraged him to give Trump 15 minutes of equal time. After I watched Biden’s SOTU, it occurred to me that I hadn’t seen more than snippets of either man for months. So I watched Trump’s Super Tuesday victory rally in Rome, Georgia, from two days after the SOTU.

Our enhanced ability to watch people speak for themselves is one of the major advances of modern politics. I enjoy political theatre and try to see as many competitors as I can in person (whether I will vote for them or not) when they come within striking distance. In 2016, I saw Trump, Cruz, Rubio, Carson, Kasich, and Clinton (Bill, who was stumping for Hillary) when they came to Florence. I’d recommend everyone visit the Gallivants Ferry Stump, the longest running stump meeting in the country. There’s no substitute to being in the same location as the candidates. Sometimes you learn as much about them by the crowds they attract as by the speeches they make.

But if you can’t attend in person, you have the next best option – YouTube. With that ability, why not transfer some of the time you are spending being told about the candidates to time listening directly to them? I hadn’t listened to Trump at length but a handful of times since I saw him in person in 2016. That speech is still ringing in my ears. The moment he shouted, “And who’s going to pay for it?!” and the crowd shouted “Mexico!!” was the most frightening example of demagoguery I’ve ever witnessed.

Trump has always been bombastic and vulgar, but watching the Rome speech right after the SOTU highlighted the contrast with normal political speechmaking. Although Biden made many references to “my predecessor,” his allusions to Trump were based on differences in their positions and accomplishments. Right out of the gate in his Rome speech, Trump launched a fusillade of personal attacks. He dismissed Biden’s speech as “The worst president in history making the worst State of the Union in history.” He imitated Biden’s stutter; he mocked his cough.

Although I felt my friend could watch any 15-minute segment of the SOTU and come away with an accurate assessment of Biden, I asked him to watch the last 15 minutes of the Rome rally. If not for the American flags in the background, it would be easy to image Trump’s concluding monologue being delivered from the canvas of a WWE ring.

As foreboding music played in the background, Trump presented the U.S. as a sulfurous wasteland. He intoned “We are a nation in decline, we are a failing nation… we are a nation where free speech is no longer allowed and where crime is rampant like never ever before… and now Russia and China are holding summits to carve up the world… we are a nation that is hostile to liberty, freedom, faith and even to God… we are a nation whose economy is collapsing into a cesspool of ruin… where fentanyl… is easier to get than groceries to feed our beautiful families… we have become a horrible and unfair nation.”

Biden’s SOTU is anchored in reality. I’m not sure what nation Trump is describing, but it’s not America. The surreal and disconnected nature of Trump’s speech can’t be adequately conveyed by my words. It must be seen to be believed. Spend fifteen minutes with each man before you make a decision.

A version of this column appeared in the March 21^st edition of the Post and Courier-Pee Dee.

Paul DeMarco at the Gallivants Ferry Stump Meeting in 2006.