Knee Deep in the Hooah!

I think I have mentioned in the past that I was born and raised in Arizona. In a very small town (well small at that time anyway) called Apache Junction. When my folks moved to AJ there was only one stop light, and maybe a lizard farm and a cactus juice stand. Seriously, the only thing that crossed the streets in droves were tumble weeds. Well AJ has grown up a lot over the years, and now it is really just a continuation of Phoenix and Tucson — it is somewhere between the two.

I moved to Asheville NC 20 years ago. When I thought of moving to the South the first thing that came to my mind was the Andy Griffith show. I am not kidding. I really thought that Asheville would be just like Mayberry — creepy barber, dumb gas station guy, and noble Sheriff included! The whole kit and caboodle! Boy, was I disappointed!

Asheville is something entirely different today than it was 20 years ago. It has turned into a very big city crammed within the confines of a small mountain town. When I escaped from there a few years ago I was very glad to bid it farewell. I miss certain things about it, but it has become the quintessential “It’s a nice place to visit, but you don’t want to live there” kind of place. It is really sad because it was a very charming mountain town one day, and now it is called the “Freak Capitol” of the nation. I guess at some point the local agriculture changed with the culture itself.

When I first moved to Asheville I was like an alien to some of my neighbors. They were not unkind to me or anything. You see Southern folks are not mean. They just “love ya to death!” The first little lady who greeted me and made me feel like I was home was a granny who was in her 80s. She was a dear, and she taught me words and phrases like “fat back,” “creasy greens,” “back-side outards,” and “chitterlings.” If you don’t know what fat back and chitterlings are (aka chittlins’, et al) you don’t want to know. Ok. Don’t do it. Don’t Google it. You will be sorry, and I will not be held liable.

Anyway, Granny P was simply wonderful in many ways. This little lady lost her husband and raised 5 children on her own in a day before welfare was common. She worked in a chicken packing factory during the day, and took laundry in of an evening. It was not an easy life, but she was not bitter about it at all. She seemed to have an inner resolve, and it was through watching her plug away at life in her broken down, over worked and burdened body that I learned why NC is called the “Tar Heel State.”

Well Granny introduced me to Southern culture and language, proper. I got my informal introduction in Memphis TN while in transit to my new destination. It was lunch and it is a long road between Apache Junction AZ and Asheville NC — even if the trip both begins and ends on I-40. In Memphis it was time to stop for that day’s lunch. I went into a small restaurant and ordered a ham sandwich. The lady behind the counter had a cute southern accent and smiled at me and said:

“Would that be country ham or city ham on that sandwich, darlin’?”

“Huh? I didn’t know that pigs lived in the city. What’s the difference?”

“Uh, the country ham is cured.”

“Well that can’t be good! Cured of What?”

“No darlin’ cured with salt. You ain’t from around here are ya?”

Lo and behold! I had just heard what would be the Southerner’s mantra for me for the next 15 years, “You ain’t from around here, are ya?” See Southern folks are kind and nice. She would have never said “Look lady you are obviously from the City and as dumb as a bag of hammers, now order your sandwich!” Nope, but I think I know what she said when I walked out of the restaurant that day. I didn’t know it then, but I know now. She undoubtedly sighed and said “Well, bless her heart!” That is a saying with a connotation only known to natives of the South and those of us outsiders who learned the accent really quickly.

“God bless her!” “Bless your heart!” and “God love it!” are three sayings that sound innocuous, but they are not. No, sir. They basically mean “She’s an idiot and needs help!” “You’re really dumb aren’t ya?” and “You are so stupid that I have to beg God to love you!” Mark Twain once said,“The difference between the right word and the almost right word is the difference between lightning and a lightning bug.” He obviously knew Southern folks. They can take the right words and turn a phrase like none other known to mankind. Twain also once said that “… a true diplomat can tell you to go to hell and make you look forward to the trip. He must have used the term “diplomat” as a code word for Southern folk. Indeed.

My next encounter with the language differences came a year or so after meeting my precious neighbor — who, by the way, had never been outside of Western NC in her 80+ years on the earth. I had just had my second son, Noah. He was about 5 months old and we went to the store one day. I had him dressed in a cute little yellow outfit. Noah was a very beautiful baby. He really was, and it was not uncommon for people to stop me to comment on his huge blue eyes, long eye lashes, and cute dimples. So, I never got offended when he was wearing gender neutral clothing and there was confusion. I mean at that age there is no reason to take offense when someone asks how old “she” is. That question is not the one that bothered me.

As I was standing in the check out lane gazing proudly at my little guy, a sweet little lady came over to me and said “Oh, how darlin’! What it is?” My proud smile quickly faded into a grimace. I pondered her question for a few seconds, but it felt like hours… “What is it?” So, I looked at her with all the kindness I could muster and I said “It’s a baby!” To which she said “Oh, honey I know it’s a baby, but what is it?” I was nearly in tears at this point. I thought that maybe I was on Candid Camera or this was some huge cosmic “Whose on First?” joke. She then noticed my look of utter confusion and said, “Is it a boy or a girl?” To which I quickly and cheerfully said “Oh! It’s a boy!” We both walked away feeling a little dumber that day.

My journey into the Southern way of life has been a fun and adventuresome one. I have met some very colorful and weathered characters in this region. Mostly I have found them to be good folks, who appreciate hard work and honest love. Of course you have the few who wind up coloring the backdrop in the minds of the outsiders. This is why, unfortunately, many people will deduct 10 I.Q. points from a person the second they hear a Southern accent. There are those who deserve such judgement because of their way of life, but I always see a huge distinction between what is called a “common red neck” and “Southern folks.” Every culture and region has their own rebels who taint the opinions of the masses. Bless their hearts!

Y’all have a good night now!

Tags: Southern Life, family life //