Hayes Anderson Fordney: Off She Went

Wonder, wit, and grace—shared generously with others.

At her Harbor Springs cottage, overlooking Lake Michigan—the place she loved most—you might find yourself gently woken in the night and drawn to the front deck, where lightning unfolded over the horizon, too beautiful to miss. For Hayes, awe was meant to be sought out—and shared.

She raised her four children—Joe, Sarah, Sam, and Michael—in much the same way. From stormy nights to the northern lights, she taught them where to look, instilling wonder and the discipline of paying attention. Life with Hayes was lively, improvised, and always fun.

An artist at heart and a teacher of art history, Hayes believed that learning to see was as important as learning to do. She was often spotted slightly off balance, arms full of slide carousels, carrying stories of the cave paintings at Lascaux and centuries later Michelangelo and the Sistine Chapel—always intent on bringing beauty closer. It informed how she lived—and how she helped raise ten grandchildren.

She led with adventure and gentle command, often caring for several mischievous grandchildren at a time. She taught manners not to tame their spirit, but to help them move through the world with adventure and grace. Ducklings were hatched in a Styrofoam cooler in her living room and taught to swim in a kiddie pool outside her house on Elliott Street—unlikely for South of Broad, but entirely on brand for Hayes.

That sense of belonging to Charleston began early. Born December 30, 1941, to Martha Rowe and John Silcox Anderson, Hayes grew up on Franklin Street alongside her younger brother Jack, surrounded by cousins, aunts, uncles, and a steady and nourishing presence named Patsy. In her grandmother Ba’s yard stood a fig tree heavy with fruit and June bugs; figs with cream would remain her favorite throughout her life. She and her “twin cousin,” Eve, ran the peninsula together— “Come quickly,” she would say—always leading the way. Summers were spent on Sullivan’s Island with cousins everywhere—swimming, crabbing on the jetties, and playing on the beach.

That same spirit filled the people she loved. Her love of stormy weather, mischief, and awe lives on in her grandchildren—Clara, Joey, Bennett, Hannah, Sydney, Henry, Liles, Taylor, Lukas Hayes, and Simon—many of whom still trace her paths through downtown Charleston.

Hayes died as she lived, surrounded by laughter and tears, held in the arms of her children, her grandchildren nearby. Papa was there too. Though their journey together changed over time, his love for her never did. Friends often said he had outkicked his coverage with Hayes—a truth he embraced, calling her the best decision he has ever made. In her final moments, she offered one last lesson: that awe and wonder do not end here, but carry us gently from this beautiful life into the next, held by God.

Friends and family are invited to gather in her honor at First (Scots) Presbyterian Church this spring.