SOUTHERN BY CHOICE, MOSTLY
I LIVE IN THE South. Flat out I love it.
Sometimes the people make me nuts. So kind in general, etiquette
is incredibly important to them, unless you choose to turn around in their
driveway without notifying them first or ring their bell without calling ahead,
then they will shoot you dead and not blink twice. They will make a dish for
your memorial though, and check up on your children until they are grown with
children of their own, bless their hearts, poor things. They will invite your
kids to call them memaw and papaw <insert last name here>. In short, you
couldn’t pick a more genuinely loving group to be cold bloodedly murdered by.
Sometimes the weather makes me nuts. I know every place has
erratic weather. The South has its own brand of climate though. We don’t just
have OUR erratic weather, we have EVERYONE’S erratic weather. Eight year long droughts? Yep. Got it. 24 inches of rain in 24 hours? Ha! The DOT has
no choice but to replace or repair all those washed out wobbledy ass bridges
they have been ignoring for years. God making government work, we love it! Blizzards?
Been there, done that, thunder snow and all. Hurricanes? All. Day. Long. So
often that hurricane parties are really a thing, and plywood is our best
friend. Subzero temperatures? We scoff, -9 for a high isn’t unknown every 30
years or so. Wanted to change out those water pipes anyway… Fire season? I told
you about the droughts right? Tornados?
A given, everyone has a designated safe spot. Ask any 3 year old and they will
tell you where to go if the sky starts turning green or it hails. 105 degrees?
Yawn, it’s why God invented ice cream and sweet tea and swimming holes. Throw
in massive ice storms every few years, a random earthquake or two, floods, 84
degrees in January and 45 degrees in June, and you start to get the picture.
The old jokes about first spring, real winter, second spring, last winter,
third spring etc all occurring in March are truer than you know. Weather men and
women are roasted mercilessly, especially by people who come from places where
fall is more than any 5 random days between October and December and snow lasts
more than 2 days. And, it’s true, we CAN’T drive on ice, but you know what? We
see those miles long pile ups on the news, we got real channels and everthang
down here, hyuck hyuck, you guys can’t either.
The food will make you fat at best and definitely kill you
slowly, but with love. It’s just so damn good! Buttermilk makes everything it
touches better, duh. Pecans and bacon go
in just about everything. Pecans and bacon with brown sugar? Manna from heaven
dontcha know. Beans cooked with ham hocks, corn on the cob, and squash from the
garden along with eggs from the backyard chickens make summer time a glorious
time to be alive and a foodie. Tomato sandwiches (as well as peanut butter and
banana) are on most people’s top ten lunch foods, guaranteed top five when the
tomatoes are still warm from the garden sun and doused with salt and pepper. Southerners
love seasoning and aren’t afraid of a little heat. Too much salt might kill you but apparently
not from boiled peanuts. Black, red, cayenne, green… we love ALL the pepper. Corn
bread, hot and dripping butter, was surely found first in the Garden of Eden!
Hush puppies are corn bread that needed an oil bath, because fried fish, ‘nuff
said. Sweet tea, known as tea down here, is a whole cultural thing. People have their own recipes (yep, for tea
with sugar and ice) and are divided into two camps, team tea with lemon and the
withouts. I am team lemon myself, but I am sad to say one must always ask for
tea with lemon, we are definitely in the minority. Barbeque enthusiasts are a subset
of our culture, and not to be confused with those that like to grill out. Once
again, I seem to fall on the minority side, enjoying grilled pork chops and
chicken way more than the same barbequed or smoked. I will probably lose my
southerner card because brisket is meh to me. I do love me some ribs, any
style, wet and messy and tasting like they were cooked by the angels on a giant
green egg in the sky. Oh yeah, southerners aren’t afraid to eat with their
fingers and gnaw the bones of something like the above mentioned ribs. A roll
of paper towels on the table isn’t laziness, it’s a sign that your host knows
this meal is good enough to use way more than one cheap paper napkin. If your chest or lap isn’t spotted with dibbles
and crumbs, if you don’t have to groan and pop a button or two, if you don’t
say ‘I couldn’t eat another bite’ while greedily accepting a slice of homemade
lemon pound cake, your host will feel
like you didn’t really enjoy the meal and vow to do better next time. Oh, also,
they will talk about you once you leave. Everyone does it, but we aren’t afraid
to claim it.
Sometimes southern art makes me crazy, just angry crazy.
Rebel flags, ‘Gone With The Wind’, overly ornate ceramic belles and beaus,
mammies and lawn jockeys, in short, things that have disappeared from most
places still can be prevalent here. Not only are most politically incorrect
which should be enough to put them out of favor, they aren’t attractive, a lot
just plain ugly. Like giant trucks and spittoons they are outdated and tawdry.
On the other hand, I LOVE primitive art and it abounds here. Sculptures made
out of old farm equipment, windmills from shovel blades, chickens made from
gourds, I love them all. It isn’t at all unusual to be driving through the
mountains and happen on an impromptu front porch or parking lot concert
featuring blue grass and country music or classic rock by insanely talented ‘big
boned’ guys named Bubba or Mike. Every little store is overflowing with homemade
soaps and pillows and pottery and candles and wood worked with divine inspiration
that could sell for a million bucks anywhere. You are likely to find phenomenal
chutneys and salsa and pickled garlic on a shelf at the local hardware store,
between the boot scrapers and the chicken feed. Home grown and homemade is
EVERYWHERE and I hope that never changes.
Like I said, I flat out love the south. I have lived a lot of
places, and a lot of them outshine us in some things, but for me, the genuinely
caring and talented and dedicated and well fed people keep me here. The random
day in the dead of winter, when all of my cold and dark fed demons are on full
display, that dawns sunny and warm enough to open all the windows and KNOW
summer is right around the proverbial corner makes it all worthwhile. If you
haven’t visited us, do. Every bad thing you ever heard is probably true to a
degree but the untold abundance of good things will astound and amaze you.
OH! And watch out for deer!