What If I Give A Damn?
By Jake Rothschild
I am not sure how long a person has to live in the Lowcountry to no longer be considered a newcomer, but at two years and counting, I know I am nowhere near it. This is a place of traditions, habits, levels of comfort and long-established provenance. It is also a place of mass migration from the north for folks who just don’t think Florida works. I am the newest of the new…transplanting from nearby Georgia. I’m okay being new, but I skew towards being a part of things, so I remain curious. My gut tells me I am here for good, in more ways than one, and I want to put down roots and make this my home. Ironically when I was 11 years old, looking out at the marsh on a family trip, I promised myself that when I die, my ashes would be spread right about the area where the IOP Connector Bridge is now located.
I moved here with a couple of purposes in mind, and I know they will take time to grow and take hold. When I made the decision to “be” here, it was with the intention to be a three-town guy…going back and forth between Mount Pleasant and Atlanta where I’ve made my home since the late 80’s, and my home on the Tugaloo in Toccoa.
I am the founder of an ice cream company and a cooking school and I also created a non profit to help others begin their own dream of owning and operating a food business. I thought it would be challenging, but because of my plan, I knew I had to figure it out and just do it. I am still learning the ropes on how it will work. There are the ropes to swing through the trees on, the ones to avoid tripping over, and the ones to do the tight walk that entrepreneurs do on the daily.
At my age (60 at the time), it was no small thing for me to decide to be here. It all started with a phone call from my father one morning. I answered a bit surprised to hear from him since we normally talk at night before I go to bed. This guy happens to be my best friend…and while we have experienced a few bumps and bruises along the way, there has never been anyone who has loved me more and no one I have ever loved as much.
“Hi. Have you heard about your sister’s friend?” he asked. I’dread a post from my sister earlier that morning that her friend had passed away. I assumed it was because she, like my sister, was fighting cancer. This was not correct. My sister’s friend had taken her life. My father proceeded to share that he was worried about my sister and it deeply concerned him.
“I have an idea,” he continued. “What are the chances you would accelerate your dream of opening a cooking school in Mount Pleasant and maybe include your sister?” “Wow, Daddy,” I responded. “She doesn’t cook.” There was a heavy sigh on his end and then he said, “I need you to be there for her. I need you to be my eyes and ears. Would you do it? She can be the sales and marketing director.”
My mind was racing…worrying about my sister whom I thought was brought into this world just for me to love…thinking about what it took for my father to ask me to do this…taking in that we had just opened the second unit of the school near Hartsfield in Atlanta…and I heard him say, “Son?” and I said “Yes, Daddy. In a New York minute.” I was going to be my sister’s hero. Hot damn…just the job for a big brother who adores his baby sister.
“Good. Can you call her right now and make this happen?” and I said. “Yes, Daddy.”
Fast forward to today. My sister found a new job in her industry and is thriving and so busy I rarely see her. And after a yearlong search that almost resulted in a broken hearted me going back to Atlanta with my tail bent in half, I have leased a building that resembles an Italian villa across the highway from Boone Hall Farms, a working farm/former plantation/tourist mecca. Two full years from when I arrived, the kitchen I dreamed of has been established, the Cooking School is open and plans are in progress for more.
Early on I joined NextDoor and started posting about my plans (and hopes and dreams). It wasn’t long before I was getting congratulatory emails from the platform telling me that I had 2000+ people reading my posts…the 4000 and then 11,000. This suggested to me that I should start engaging and sharing more of my story as an entrepreneur and a community builder.
I soon learned that this site is not what one could call a safe and quiet place. I watched as people took swipes at each other because of their political differences. It was startling how no holds barred it was. One pummeling followed another with name calling like it was third grade all over again. I also found that the very conservative and well to do resent the hell out of the growth of this once provincial little town to a bustling, traffic-thick annex of Charleston. I wondered how I could last here when I could barely stand to watch the news, let alone find anything in common with folks who voted very differently than I did. Perhaps I’d misjudged that this was the right place for me to hang and I started planning my quiet exit.
And then I remembered my father telling me that he and I were cut from the same cloth…and that we were forces for good…and that we had a choice to make in building bridges instead of walls. This was not going to be easy. I had to steer clear of politics and religion and all the other things we are not supposed to talk about in polite company and focus on the heart of each person I met. It meant breaking ice, cracking the crust that had formed around people who are tired, scared and hurting over any number of things to which I could relate.
So…I got more involved…and I started something called Last Thursdays. We meet at a donut shop the last Thursday of each month and we get to know each other the old fashioned way…with real face time instead of the Meta variety. Sometimes six people show up and trade stories and sometimes its just me and one other person. The idea of it which is part of a few ideas I have is to get people to talk to each other instead of at each other. Is it working? I actually think so. The feedback I’ve gotten so far is that I am reasonable and fair and that I give a damn. I try hard for the first two and there is no question in my mind about the third.
This past week I made a post about if everyone was going to fight over national politics, which is not allowed on the platform, but happens anyway, we should petition NextDoor to make a special section just for that and get it off the main feed which is better for most for more neighborly things. My post got a HUGE and mostly positive response, but then it was censored and taken down for violating all sorts of rules. A few days later, one of the most conservative women I’ve connected with in the community invited me to her home for, as she put it, a cup of DECAF. She gets beat on a lot on the site, but I have a big roomy place for her in my heart because she orchestrated a huge rescue drive for the hurricane-devastated folks from my home state of North Carolina. She actually caught flack for helping those people because they were strangers. I have an acronym for that I don’t mind using here… FTN. You can look it up if you want to.
I knew this was a possibility when I hit publish, but I didn’t care. I did it to bring people together to dialogue and maybe find common ground. I may actually be suspended for daring to make the suggestion, but I don’t care because…I do give a damn.
Jake Rothschild, an Atlanta native, in addition to being a writer, is a serial entrepreneur and operates The Cooking Schools and our Village Kitchens in Mount Pleasant, SC. He will soon be bringing his beloved ice cream, Jake's to the Lowcountry.
Frogmore Stew is sponsored by The Alliance Coalition. Building a robust network of thought leaders, advocates and data analysis throughout the state of South Carolina, The Alliance Coalition aims to engage voters to be well informed and active participants in the issues that drive our state legislation and legislators. To support Frogmore Stew and The Alliance Coalition, please donate here.