Chris Carpenter remembers receiving an old tie from Miss Em. Belvidere Plantation suffered the fate of progress in 1940 at the hands of the Santee- Cooper Project. The grand old house that had been home to the Sinkler family for over 200 years disappeared beneath the waters of Lake Marion just a few miles from Eutawville. A Sinkler family reunion was held on March 28, 2008, at Belvidere Plantation.

Brothers Chr is and George Carpenter grew up on Gippy Plantation which was owned by Nicholas Roosevelt and his wife Emily "Miss Em" Sinkler Roosevelt. At the reunion they recalled their childhood memories:

• Miss Em always had things for us to do. If we saw her coming, we'd run and hide. She believed in working us and always promised to pay us, so we worked real hard. When we finished, Miss Em would come out and give us a handful of pecans. That was our pay. We could have picked those ourselves.

• When Mr. Roosevelt was out of town, I'd go spend the night in the big house to protect Miss Em. I don't know why, 'cause my room was up on the third floor and she was on the first floor. I was about nine or ten years old. After I got through one time she presented me with a box and said, "I appreciate you coming in. This is a special prize for you." When I got home and opened it, I found one of Mr. Roosevelt's old ties.

Videau Kirk Simons remembers her father as Pard Walsh reads Frank Kirk's poem. • Another time when Mr. Roosevelt was away, we went to stay with Miss Em. She was a connoisseur of good southern cuisine. She loved cooter stew and she loved fried fish with the head and eyes still on it. We couldn't eat the eyes, and she said, "That is the best part." She plucked them out and ate them right down.

• Miss Em had turkeys and one day the gobbler got out. She gathered all the children around and said, "I'm gonna give you a dollar to catch my turkey." That was a lot of money so we took off after the turkey. We finally caught it and presented it to Miss Em. I think she must have forgotten what the reward was going to be 'cause out came a few pecans for everybody. I said, "Miss Em, I think you promised us a dollar." Sure enough, she went back in and came out with a dollar.

George Carpenter remembers that Miss Em ate the fish, eyes and all. • During one of the horse races at Belvidere, they brought in Katherine Hepburn and all the cavalry from Ft. Jackson and had a big parade. That was the greatest thing in my life. The boys older than me would ride the horses. The highlight was the mule race. Every plantation would send a mule. The bookies from Charleston never could figure it out. The mule from Belvidere was going to win. It didn't make any difference.

Angie Sinkler Whaley LeClercq, (director of the Daniel Library at The Citadel) granddaughter of Anne Sinkler Fishburne who grew up at Belvidere also remembered Miss Em:

• Miss Em decided to learn to play golf. She hired a caddy and set out to learn the game. After she somewhat succeeded, she told her caddy, "You have been the greatest teacher and I'm going to give you a good gift." She handed him a toothbrush.

Mar ty Sinkler Whaley Cornwell, Angie's sister, has a silver cup given to Caroline Sidney Sinkler Lockwood, one of the last women to live at Belvidere, by the black people of Belvidere. She said the inscription reads: To Caroline Sidney Sinkler from her people at B elvidere whose heart we hold because she holds ours .

Angie LeClercq remembers Miss Em rewarding her caddy with a toothbrush. Videau Ki rk Simons brought a poem by her father, Francis "Frank" Marion Kirk, who lived nearby and wrote the final descriptions of the homes taken by Santee- Cooper. The poem was read by Norman "Pard" Walsh.

Antediluvian St. Johns, 1935

It matters not, I know, that
this is my beloved land.
It matters not, I know, that
I hold sacred every spot
Where lie remains of those
who died so long ago,
Who lie in peace so close to
the homes they loved.
It matters not, that 'neath
these trees
High- minded men and
woman
So eagerly once roved in
search of homes.
Far over distance seas they
came
And here they lived. And
heaven smiled.
For note how from a virgin
wilderness
They made a garden, how
they tamed the wild
And found in their new
land new happiness.
It matters not that all of
this must go.
All my regrets — they matter
not, I know.

(Next week: Ferguson Revisited)