And Proud of it

I am a southern girl. I always have been. I was born in the south, raised in the south (though most Floridians refuse to include themselves as southern even though they so are) and currently live in the south. I like grits, fried okra, sweet tea (as if there is any other kind), cornbread, fried green tomatoes, and things cooked with back fat. I use Y'all as a proper noun, sometimes have been known to add an extra syllable or 2 to a word and up until as recent as 11 or 12 years ago, didn't know that "fixin to" and "use ta could" were not terms widely used outside of the south. As a kid, I was made fun of because of my accent (even though I didn't and still don't hear it). Know though, that I am Southern, not country or a redneck. There is a difference. I know some country folks and a few rednecks, but I am not one. I think maybe we used to be country before we moved to FL. My dad always wanted a pair of overalls. That's country. He hit a cow with his car once and my mom wondered why he didn't just load it in the trunk. That's country. My brother and his friend once climbed or fell into (not sure which) his friend's dad's pea pickin' machine. That's country. I think he got a pea stuck up in his nose as a result. My dad has relatives known a "Big Sister, Mama, Pappy, Eunice, Honey and Muddy." That's border line redneck.


But all that was long ago. We lived in a little town in Georgia and then 11 miles outside of that town. So we actually lived in the country. We had a little ranch house on close to 2 acres of land. We had neighbor across the hwy named Pauline who my mother would routinely save black, rotten bananas for because she had no teeth and she liked them that way. There was a mangy old dog that we named "Doodle dog" that would visit our yard from time to time who would "doodle" (if you know what I mean) on our bushes. He was harmless to us humans, it was the bushes that needed to be afraid. My brother and I would sit outside on the top of the water well house (a common thing in those parts) and claim the cool cars that flew by. We spent our days exploring the woods that bordered the back of our house, fishin' in the creek with my brother's Snoopy fishing pole and riding our bikes up and down the dirt road that was on the other side of the cow pasture that was next to our house.

So, we were country at one point. Then we moved to civilization. Still a small town but we actually lived in the town, or closer to it at least. We lived in an actual subdivision. We thought that was cool. And so we morphed from being a little bit country to Southern, refined, well mannered, yet friendly and hospitable.

And what, prey tell, has prompted me to launch into a post about my southern roots? I had a visit from one of my northern cousins this past weekend. It was a visit that I very much enjoyed. I do wish they lived closer. Because they grew up in Iowa and I in Florida, we have seen precious little of each other. Still, even though we may go 7 or 8 years between visits, when we do get together, it's very easy and enjoyable. So, when my cousin mentioned that they needed to get some grits before going home (said in a little bit of a northern accent), it got me to thinking. That, and I recently resubscribed to Southern Living Magazine. That magazine always makes me appreciate my roots and sometimes makes me get all nostalgic.

So, even though there are renecks all over the world and counrty folk in every state, there is nothing like the South.