A Town Called Orangeburg

Here I go again. Frequently when musing about what to write, my mind wanders back to the exciting 60’s, with fallback to the fabulous 70’s.
Back in early ‘64, I was dating the lady that was gonna be my wife for the next 60 years, and counting. Marjorie invited me to join her for Sunday dinner at her family home in Orangeburg. I was truly amazed by the wide variety of meats and veggies available. Also the free flow of uninvited family and friends that would show up and join for dinner. Not like that where I grew up in NYC.
One of my several visits to Orangeburg was for Marjorie’s brother, Harry’s high school graduation. He was soon on his way to Clemson.
On another visit, Marjorie’s dad introduced me to Duke’s BBQ, our goto BBQ for the rest of our lives.
I once joined Marjorie’s dad to her Uncle Tom’s gas station and convenience store downtown. We joined some other brothers and maybe cousins and sat in the store just yakking. I was having a helluva time trying to understand what they were saying, and spent a lotta time nodding yes. They probably thought I was a dumb ass Yankee. (Stop laughing Marjorie).
Marjorie and I were married in August, 1964 and have made many trips to Orangeburg over the years, especially to Duke’s BBQ. A mainstay. Enuf.

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