Monday, as we drove from the mountains of western North Carolina to Asheville and down to Spartanburg, we had rain that felt tropical in its copious intensity.
I'm glad to be home but part of me stays in Spartanburg. I suppose because not much seems to change there, it always feels like I was just there and/or am still there. I know many people besides Steve & I like feeling welcomed into the community. Although I have to say, it was shocking to hear people's childhood stories about segregated drinking fountains (etcetera). Was Sioux Falls really as bland as I remember, or is it because it was 99% white, so we didn't have to have Jim Crow. We would have—no reason to think we were any better, just different in our circumstances.