Living in the South

When I flew across the country to go to BYU three years ago, being from Tennessee became unexpectedly cool. This probably says more about the born-and-bred Utahns more than it does my personal social status, but suddenly being a southern girl was something new and exotic- an import from the other side of the Mississippi. I often get asked "what's it like," so for those of you stuck in the grid system out west, let me enlighten you. (Because let me tell you- "Dixie" is NOT a place in southern Utah.)

The South is a land of its own. It does not include Texas or southern Florida. It is a land of sticky summers, firefly nights, and green rolling hills. If you ever find yourself moving there, you may- like my mother- cry because "No one wears shoes; all they do is sit on the street and strum guitars." (A prophecy fulfilled only too well by her barefoot oldest child.) But sooner or later, you find that- also like my mother- the South has slowly worked its charm and grown itself into your heart.

I never realized until that first Thanksgiving I came home from college that all my friends had accents. Now, when I'm in Utah, I can pick one out a mile away- I will make up excuses to talk to people because the words coming out of their mouth sound like honey. There is something irrepressibly sweet and endearing about a Southern accent. Probably  because it is usually accompianied by Southern manners. I'm a sucker for being called "miss," "ma'am," or "darlin'" (the dropped G is essential.) When my brother was in kindergarten, he came home reciting his numbers-- my mom quickly retaught him the correct pronunciation for the number "fahve." Bummer. There is nothing cuter than a little boy with a drawl. (If you want proof, just ask my cousin Lane to tell you about Stinkbutt, his cat.)

Maybe you- like my father- could point out some things like the excessively decorated trailers or obesity rates. I don't really care. I love the Bojangles and the Wal-Marts. I love the white fences and the big red barns. I love that my high school wasn't made up of a white collar Alpine community. I love the smell of a summer thunderstorm and watching it from the front porch. I love the Baptist churches with their signs out front. I love the sweet old ladies who call you "hon" and drink nothing but iced tea. I love that growing up, we'd always take field trips to the Carnton Mansion and other Civil War sites. I love the magnolia trees and azalea bushes. I love everything Vera Bradley and watching my friends grow up and marry their high school sweethearts. I love cornbread and Diet Coke.

Most of all, I love the South because it is so real. There aren't any fashion blogs or ads for liposuction. You don't see moms with high-maintenence haircuts wearing the same jeans as their 9th-grade daughters. You don't see designer jeans period- not where I'm from. No one asks if your eyelashes are real because Guess What? No one wears fake eyelashes!! Every summer I bring home cute clothes to wear but always end up in shorts and T-shirts- because I don't have to try and impress anybody. People are defined in terms of niceness, rather than how they look. Our visit last week to Chattanooga was full of gossip with phrases like:
"That Harry Ray is a good man."
"Kathy Wolfe is an angel."
Really. The only way I hear people quantified is when talking about how sweet they are. It's so refreshing. If you are cute, that's great- but people here realize that's not your most important quality. I was so touched by the volunteers that came to help when Katrina hit my grandparents, or when tornadoes ripped apart my hometown a few weeks ago. Seeing how much time, money, and labor people freely give to help, I am overwhelmed with their goodness. Bless their hearts.

I realize the South is not for everybody. If you hate humidity, chicken and football, you're probably in deep trouble. But personally, it's what I'll always think of as home. I hope I never stop waving to the neighbors when I'm driving by or walking my dog. I hope I never stop using the phrase "fixin' to" when explaining that I'm about to go to the store. I hope I never forget the terrible-but-memorable Southern Gospel music our bus driver blasted every morning for three years of my life. I hope I never start eating GRITS (because I have always hated them no matter how much butter you soak in there), but I am oh so glad that I can always claim to be one.

"Southern girls are God's gift to the entire male population. There is absolutely no woman finer than one raised below the Mason-Dixon line and once you go southern, may the good Lord help you- you never go back."
(I mean, I wasn't going to say it... but who am I to argue with Kenny Chesney?)