Posted on 02/14/2002 9:01:00 AM PST by sheltonmac
Thirty years ago I visited my first cousin in Virginia. While hanging out with his friend, the discussion turned to popular movies of the day. When I offered my two-cents on the authenticity and social relevance of the movie Billy Jack, one of the boys asked, in all seriousness; "Do you guys have movie theaters down there?" To which I replied, "Yep. We wear shoes too."
Just three years ago, my wife and I were attending a food and wine seminar in Aspen, Colorado. We were seated with two couples from Las Vegas. One of the Glitter Gulch gals was amused and downright rude when I described our restaurant as a fine-dining restaurant. "Mississippi doesn't have fine-dining restaurants!" she demanded and nudged her companion. I fought back the strong desire to mention that she lived in the land that invented the 99-cent breakfast buffet.
I wanted badly to defend my state and my restaurant with a 15-minute soliloquy and public relations rant that would surely change her mind. It was at that precise moment that I was hit with a blinding jolt of enlightenment, and in a moment of complete and absolute clarity it dawned on me -- my South is the best-kept secret in the country. Why would I try to win this woman over? She might move down here.
I am always amused by Hollywood's interpretation of the South. We are still, on occasion, depicted as a collective group of sweaty, stupid, backwards-minded and racist rednecks. The South of movies and TV, the Hollywood South, is not my South.
This is my South:
- My South is full of honest, hard-working people.
- My South is colorblind. In my South, we don't put a premium on pigment. No one cares whether you are black, white, red, or green with orange polka dots.
- My South is the birthplace of blues and jazz, and rock n' roll. It has banjo pickers and fiddle players, but it also has B.B. King, Muddy Waters, the Allman Brothers, Emmylou Harris, and Elvis.
- My South is hot.
- My South smells of newly mowed grass.
- My South was the South of The Partridge Family, Hawaii 5-0, and kick the can.
- My South was creek swimming, cane-pole fishing, and bird hunting.
- In my South, football is king, and the Southeastern Conference is the kingdom.
- My South is home to the most beautiful women on the planet.
- In my South, soul food and country cooking are the same thing.
- My South is full of fig preserves, cornbread, butter beans, fried chicken, grits and catfish.
- In my South we eat foie gras, caviar, and truffles.
- In my South, our transistor radios introduced us to the Beatles and the Rolling Stones at the same time they were introduced to the rest of the country.
- In my South, grandmothers cook a big lunch every Sunday.
- In my South, family matters, deeply.
- My South is boiled shrimp, blackberry cobbler, peach ice cream, banana pudding, and oatmeal cream pies.
- In my South people put peanuts in bottles of Coca Cola and hot sauce on almost everything.
- In my South the tea is iced and almost as sweet as the women.
- My South has air-conditioning.
- My South is camellias, azaleas, wisteria, and hydrangeas.
- In my South, the only person that has to sit on the back of the bus is the last person that got on the bus.
- In my South, people still say "yes, ma'am," "no ma'am," "please," and "thank you."
- In my South, we all wear shoes....most of the time.
My South is the best-kept secret in the country. Please continue to keep the secret....it keeps the idiots away.
This should be the quote of the Day! LOL!
Southern Florida is now half Canadian and half Cuban. One has to feel sorry for the Cubans.
Also, I remember reading, a few years ago, that the memorial for Robert E. Lee is immaculate, while the memorial for Grant is sprayed with graffiti, littered with trash, and in a general state of nastiness.
My dad (bless his soul) did that but added catsup also.
"Fallacious"? Hey, no dirty talk around here!
Yes, I know what it really means. I was just being facetious!
I have never been able to stand pulled pork, minced pork "barbecue", ribs slathered in sauce or chicken with that same sauce cooked on it. I'm considered a heathen where I come from now, but I agree with Texans when they say "you can't barbecue a pig or a chicken".
Straight from L.A. (Lower Alabama)
Collards is green,
my dog's name is Blue
and I'm so lucky
to have a sweet thang like you.
Yore hair is like cornsilk
a-flapping in the breeze.
Softer than Blue's
and without all them fleas.
You move like the bass,
which excite me in May.
You ain't got no scales
but I luv you anyway.
Yo're as satisfy'n as okry
jist a-fry'n in the pan.
Yo're as fragrant as "snuff"
right out of the can.
You have some'a yore teeth,
for which I am proud;
I hold my head high
when we're in a crowd.
On special occasions,
when you shave under yore arms,
well, I'm in hawg heaven,
and awed by yore charms.
Still them fellers at work,
they all want to know,
what I did to deserve
such a purdy, young doe.
Like a good roll of duct tape
yo're there fer yore man,
to patch up life's troubles
and fix what you can.
Yo're as cute as a junebug
a-buzzin' overhead.
You ain't mean like those far ants
I found in my bed.
Cut from the best cloth
like a plaid flannel shirt,
you spark up my life
more than a fresh load of dirt.
When you hold me real tight
like a padded gunrack,
my life is complete;
Ain't nuttin' I lack.
Yore complexion, it's perfection,
like the best vinyl sidin'.
despite all the years,
yore age, it keeps hidin'.
Me 'n' you's like a Moon Pie
with a RC cold drank,
we go together
like a skunk goes with stank.
Some men, they buy chocolate
for Valentine's Day;
They git it at Wal-Mart,
it's romantic that way.
Some men git roses
on that special day
from the cooler at Kroger.
"That's impressive," I say.
Some men buy fine diamonds
from a flea market booth.
"Diamonds are forever,"
they explain, suave and couth.
But for this man, honey,
these won't do.
Cause yor'e too special,
you sweet thang you.
I got you a gift,
without taste nor odor,
more useful than diamonds...
IT'S A NEW TROLL'N MOTOR!!
I bet you know where Wicksburg is also.
And we give our "special" people jobs that they can do and make them part of the community. Many do not draw disability for being "special."
Where I grew up we had a couple of such people. Percy mowed everybody's lawns and lived with his family and loved reading "The Grit." Donnie was the retarded twin of a "normal" brother...back before there was a PC term for mental retardation. When he got older he was put to work at a local barbeque place washing dishes and helping with the cooking. These kind of people are part of what makes our communities unique.
With values, we don't need laws. Without values, no law we have will ever work.
Paraphrased, anyway, but that's how it works there and here. Like someone said, we revere our history and consider bad behavior an insult to our ancestry.
Except for riddling speed-limit signs with bullets. It may look like bad behavior, but really it ain't..perhaps a southern analogue to graffiti. Or rotating our lead, to keep it fresh. (Nah, it's cuz we like to BLAST things!! :))
BTW. I went to New Orleans a few years back. Went into a restaurant and ordered a BBQ sandwich. They brought it to me without slaw. I asked for some so I could eat my sandwich.The cook said "you must be from Alabama". I said "how did you know?" He said, "only people from Alabama eat slaw on their sandwiches."
Disclaimer: Opinions posted on Free Republic are those of the individual posters and do not necessarily represent the opinion of Free Republic or its management. All materials posted herein are protected by copyright law and the exemption for fair use of copyrighted works.