Life on Tybee Island, off the coast of Georgia, is literally living on “the edge of America.”
I first came across that description when Melissa and I were traveling with our friends David and Judy McNaughton. We were island shopping, so to speak.
And we visited Folly Beach, a small island beach outside of Charleston, S.C.
The sign welcoming us to town described Folly Beach as “the edge of America.” I was so taken with that description that I wrote a song by that title. I refer to it as my noir song, as it captures the feeling of fleeing to an island to escape from some pursuer or a tormented love affair. Mysterious yet comforting.
The song is the title track to my new CD — “The Edge of America.”
I’m also appropriating the description as a blog category for my website: “Letters from the Edge of America.”
Here, I can write about life on the island, or anything, really. But I promise no politics. Ever. Or really anything remotely akin to issues of the public square.
We don’t have a public square on Tybee. We do have a roundabout at the beach, near the pier. But no public square. And I’m good with that.