dokodemo

I didn't want to pull over and take photos of the shacks falling apart, I felt too much like a spectator. So I rolled forward to Grampa's place.

He lives at the Santee Cooper Resort in Santee, SC. I hadn't been there for about a decade, but it also hadn't changed much. We spent time catching up, taking drives in the golf cart, walks, and going out to eat with his crew. They were mostly widowers, mostly avid golfers, and all pretty fun to talk to. One bitter old man, who was retired from the FBI, told some fairly offensive jokes (and I am not easily offended). He also seemed to confuse people from India with Native Americans.

One night we tried the new "Japanese" restaurant, though I am pretty sure nobody from Japan has ever been in the place. The staff certainly were not Japanese. The food was essentially poorly stir-fried vegetables/meat with fried rice on the side.

The next night we went to a typical southern diner, with no real menu. You just get what they have that night, with a few options. I had some fried catfish/hushpuppies, turnip greens, mashed potatoes, and corn. Sweet tea, of course. The FBI guy asked grampa if he liked this better than the Japanese the night before, Grampa said "I don't compare meals, I am always glad to have a meal" and I really respected that.

Grampa has a different posse for breakfasts at the Tastee Diner. This group was a little more mellow, friendlier. Perhaps it was just the time of day. The Tastee actually made pretty good coffee.

After a couple days, I was painfully aware that the halfway point on my journey had passed, and that it was time to turn around and head for Seattle.

It was very good to visit with Grampa again. His memory is fading, at times alarmingly so, but he was lucid, healthy, and seemed happy.