Weather Report

This was the first day in our trip to SC that a body—this body at least—could walk two blocks and sweat through his t-shirt.  This was later in the day around 3.  Now at 4:30 EST, it’s 88 degrees.  Earlier though a nice overcast blocked the sun; a few drops of heavenly rain fell on us and breezes cooled us down.  But those helpful clouds are gone.

Earlier in the day, round 10, at 204 Bailey, in Clinton, SC, the temp was about 72.  We drove by, after leaving our motel, to take one last look at Steve’s place.  I gave him a buzz on the cell and found he was located at the McDonalds less than a quarter of a mile away right across the railroad tracks.  So we drove over there and chatted with him a bit, learning in the process that all he had about left to do was to wait till 2in the afternoon to sign some papers. 

We drove off leaving Steve in the parking lot, saying we would be seeing him again back in CA in July to clear out the storage area down in Escondido that has the last stuff of Joan and Bill in it.

Then we drove up to Greenville listening to Jack Tingle’s EP as we drove.  Four songs by “The Roscoe.”

Then we walked Main Street down to the Hot Dog place again where they serve weenies not hot dogs.  I got the special: 2 weenies, with chili and onions, with fries, coleslaw and sweet tea, and Carol got a hot dog made out of Angus beef with sour kraut.


Then we walked some more down by the Reedy River and walked over the Liberty Bridge that Butch and Lucy Dean had told us about.  We sat in front of the Starbucks down there, me with iced coffee and read for a while until Carol put her head down on the table and looked like she was going to sleep on the spot.

I read some in a book about the Middle Ages.  From around 700-1000 your average peasant didn’t know what time it was, what day it was, or month or year or even century that he or she was living in. Time was the seasons of the year and the holidays.  Apparently people in the Church kept track of when those happen and informed the peasants accordingly.

Nobody had last names either.  A person was the son of Mike or the sister of Mike or Mike’s brother, and Mike’s brother, Bob, was the father of the son of Bob and so forth.  People were also called by their deformities or hair color.

Last names started popping up as a sign of occupations.  So later on one had Mike, the Miller—shortened to Mike Miller.  Tingle may mark an occupation.  One rumor at least is that Tingle is a mangled form of Tingler, the name give to the town crier, since he went around ringing a bell and yelling, here ye, here ye.  So early Tingles seem to have been journalists or may be just the bearers of bad tidings.

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