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Marge was cited for using her writing to raise money for charity, with the help of her husband, Jack.
"I surprised Marge with the publication of her book of Island Packet humor columns, 'May All Your Turns Be Right Ones' for our 35th wedding anniversary in 2004," Jack said, "with all proceeds going to the Rotary project of building a new home for The Deep Well Project.
"For her 80th birthday this year, I published the rest of her humor columns that appeared monthly in the Packet from June 2005 until September 2008, with all proceeds going to the Rotary club's project to help get the new building for Memory Matters, a nonprofit agency serving families in Beaufort and Jasper counties who struggle with the devastating effects of Alzheimer's disease and other forms of dementia.
"Many do not realize that the books are filled with her offbeat humor that developed such a loyal following of islanders and their friends around the country."
The price of the new book has been reduced to move them out and get more money to Memory Matters, Jack said.
This new book, titled "May All Your Turns -- Always -- Be Right Ones," is available at the Blue Parrot shop at Shelter Cove Mall, Island Party Store at Port Royal Plaza and Burke's Main Street Pharmacy.
The following sample from the book was Marge's final column for the Packet in September 2008.
RETIREMENT DOESN'T DULL COMPETITIVE EDGE
By Marge Holcombe
"I can't wait to get out of this rat race." How often have you heard people, and possibly a couple of rats, say this?
If there is one thing Americans do better than anyone, it is hurrying. There is the rush to get to work, and when there, a dash to attend the gridlock of meetings; the race to line up the kids' activities, such as Little League, dancing lessons, play dates, sleepovers and, oh yes, school. The list goes on.
The driving force behind this hustle is competition, and it is in every facet of our lives. For example, in New York there are fierce parental contests to register pre-kindergarten offspring for the best schools at birth.
In my day, there was no pre-anything. I recall being unceremoniously dropped into kindergarten, where I spent a full year sitting in a sandbox and finger-painting. I still find these activities to be very therapeutic.
Evidence of ongoing competition is everywhere. Last week, I drove into a business office parking lot and noticed a prime spot marked, "Reserved for Employee of the Month." If this employer is truly a fair person, I'll expect to see the adjacent areas signed "Reserved for First Runner-Up" and "Reserved for Miss Congeniality."
A recent Packet article had the headline, "Many retirees miss working, feel urge to 'unretire,'<2009>" and went on to note that many retired people work at least part-time. The baby boomers and the corporate "stars" miss the adrenaline rush of competition and fear they will atrophy if they don't gek to the working world.
Boomers and stars, fear no more, have I got a place for you. Attention and competition are alive and thriving on Hilton Head Island. Shortly after arriving here, you will encounter your first local resident, who, after determining whether you're from Ohio or New Jersey, will ask you the mandatory three questions.
The first and most important one, "Are you a golfer?" You must bring a set of clubs, even if you don't play; they are a requirement for residency. This way you can reply honestly, "Well, I brought my clubs with me."
The second query will be, "Do you play bridge?" If you hesitate for just a moment, the interviewer follows up with the encouraging, "Our group plays just for fun." For what? Although there are some pockets of mirthful players on the island, it will be a rare sighting if you chance upon a full foursome giggling or smiling. The best you can hope for is a glimpse of a smirk from the one who knows she holds the winning hand.
The third query will be, "Are you into tennis?" As a newcomer, I was lucky and ended up playing with a delightful hit-and-giggle tennis gang. One day, I was asked to substitute in a high-caliber mixed doubles league. Noticing that I was scared to death to accept, a fellow hooked me in with, "It's only social tennis." I quickly learned there is no such thing. These "social" men always "play" the women, even aiming for their more vulnerable body parts. I'm still sporting a Wilson tennis ball imprint on an upper thigh.
Ah, but the truest and most fierce competition takes place in my age group's social circuit, in the Arena of Ailments. These gladiators fight for the title of who has the rarest illness, who had the most dangerous operation or who takes the most prescription pills. At one such soiree, the winner was a man who boasted, "The doctor said he had never seen anything like it." I smartly decided not to ask what "it" was.
At another cocktail party contest, I made the fatal mistake of answering the usual, "How are you?" with "Fine" and thus was ignored for the rest of the evening and, according to the rules, I was automatically eliminated from the competition.
The only time I won was when I noisily dangled my Medic Alert bracelet and bragged that mine was the only one that read, "See attached." I finally got to take home the centerpiece.
Boomers and ex-corporate stars, forget your fear of atrophy and play golf, bridge and tennis; take a lot of pills and get your doctor to give you a note stating, "I've never seen anything like it."
You'll have a ball.
Meanwhile, I'm off to the sandbox before my finger paints dry up.
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