The Sand Dollar Salon

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­My grandmother was elegant, polite and graceful. She was, without a doubt, a woman with class. Granny was a knockout beauty from head to…ankle. There were two things that Granny didn’t tolerate: lying and spreading her business. So, for her sake, I’ll just say she was pretty and leave it at that.

Granny was the matriarch of the family, my mom’s mother and the owner of beachfront property. Every summer, she invited the entire family—her four children, their spouses, and children (totaling 11 grandchildren)—to live together under one roof on Sullivan’s Island.

Gypsies in the palace? Well, if you can call a cinderblock home without air conditioning a palace, then, yes. But there’s no debate about the gypsy part.

My cousins were like sisters and brothers. No one opened up a bag of “Salt and Vinnies” without someone smelling them and sticking their sandy, wet paw in your bag of chips. You also shared your Slim Jims, jelly shoes and candy dots. Our hermit crabs lived in the same tanks and we often slept in the same beds.

We were close, sometimes too close. We battled over who got the last pair of stick-on earrings, who “stole” your ForenzaOutbackRedBenetton shirt, and who was the last to wear your Tretorns.

We settled the score over card games, fiercely competitive matches of UNO, Egyptian Rat Screw and Spoons, grasping and clawing for them until we bled. Our mothers rarely interfered, but when they did, you knew you were getting a spanking. Most of the time, they sat together on the back porch, which was covered in green indoor-outdoor carpet. They’d gossip, smoke their Vantage cigs and drink Miller Lites while smocking our bikinis.

We collected shells, starfish and sand dollars, swam to the sandbar and built sandcastles. We were infamous on the beach for our mermaid. We’d bury one of our clan and cover her with sand to create a mermaid’s tail and big, enormous boobs on her otherwise small chest. We went crabbing with my mom on the rocks (and her scotch on the rocks) with nothing but a chicken neck tied to a string and a net.

We hosted nightly performances “on stage,” (the fireplace in the living room). We sang solos, duets and had our own choir. We directed and starred in plays. And “the older cousins,” a group I was barely old enough to be included in, created our own business, The Sand Dollar Salon.