ONCE AGAIN, I CANNOT SAY IT BETTER than the graphic below! -
For we Southerners it must be the process of osmosis, for I do
not recall anyone ever overtly teaching me to say "Yes,
ma'am" or "No, sir." I do not recall anyone
teaching me to stand for a lady, to open the door for a lady, or
that ladies go first.
Yet, I do not recall a time in my life when I did not do those things. Maybe it was just growing up seeing others doing it, but, I like to imagine it is just part of being Southern, an inherent Southern trait. Do you think that God, before the Creation, just decided to make Southerners genteel and especially polite? Now that is one form of Predestination I can embrace.
When I grew up in Alabama, we knew the meaning of being a good neighbor. I cannot tell you how many times I saw my parents, ready to walk out the door to go somewhere - when a friend, neighbor, or relative suddenly showed up to visit. What did they do? Why, they took off their coats and invited the visitors to come in and visit with them. No appointment needed, if y'all come we welcome you.
When I was newly married while in the Air Force in Denver, my wife and I were planning to visit her mom. She told me, "Let me call to see if we can visit them." Shocked, I asked, "You have to make an appointment to visit your own mother?" Now, as an more mature adult, I realize that it is common courtesy to call first. But, at that time I was truly shocked. Back home in Alabama of the 1950s, if I had called a relative or friend to set up a visit - they would have asked, "Is something wrong?"
I can recall the culture shock when I first began to realize that all the world was not Southern born and bred. In the winter of 1955, I was in Air Force Tech School at Lowry AFB in Denver. One day while on a packed bus, a lady entered the bus. When I saw her, I stood to give her my seat. However, before she could sit a man jumped into the seat I had vacated. It made me angry, but not wanting to start a ruckus, I said nothing - just thought to myself, "He must be a DamnYankee!" Down South that is one word.
In the mid 1960s, living in Southern California, another "This ain't the South" incident occurred. After a Saturday evening date, I drove my date's baby-sitter home. The following Monday my girl-friend's coworker told her, "My daughter thought your date was weird. He opened the car door for her and would not drive away until she was inside the house." Poor girl, imagine the guys she must have later dated.
In the latter 1960s, my ex-wife got a chuckle out of telling me of a time when she and our three girls were riding in the car with her date. When they reached their destination, he got of the car and stood on the sidewalk waiting for them to get out of the car. One of my young girls commented to their mom, "He's not like daddy, is he, mom? Daddy would have opened the door for us."
I was happy to see that some of my Southern had rubbed off on them, even though they were from Denver. But, I never could get them to like the taste of buttermilk. I guess you have to be born to that taste.
The next time you hear someone say, "Y'all come back now, ya heah?" - you will know you have met a Southerner.
God bless, have a wonderful, blessed day,
Bill
Yet, I do not recall a time in my life when I did not do those things. Maybe it was just growing up seeing others doing it, but, I like to imagine it is just part of being Southern, an inherent Southern trait. Do you think that God, before the Creation, just decided to make Southerners genteel and especially polite? Now that is one form of Predestination I can embrace.
When I grew up in Alabama, we knew the meaning of being a good neighbor. I cannot tell you how many times I saw my parents, ready to walk out the door to go somewhere - when a friend, neighbor, or relative suddenly showed up to visit. What did they do? Why, they took off their coats and invited the visitors to come in and visit with them. No appointment needed, if y'all come we welcome you.
When I was newly married while in the Air Force in Denver, my wife and I were planning to visit her mom. She told me, "Let me call to see if we can visit them." Shocked, I asked, "You have to make an appointment to visit your own mother?" Now, as an more mature adult, I realize that it is common courtesy to call first. But, at that time I was truly shocked. Back home in Alabama of the 1950s, if I had called a relative or friend to set up a visit - they would have asked, "Is something wrong?"
I can recall the culture shock when I first began to realize that all the world was not Southern born and bred. In the winter of 1955, I was in Air Force Tech School at Lowry AFB in Denver. One day while on a packed bus, a lady entered the bus. When I saw her, I stood to give her my seat. However, before she could sit a man jumped into the seat I had vacated. It made me angry, but not wanting to start a ruckus, I said nothing - just thought to myself, "He must be a DamnYankee!" Down South that is one word.
In the mid 1960s, living in Southern California, another "This ain't the South" incident occurred. After a Saturday evening date, I drove my date's baby-sitter home. The following Monday my girl-friend's coworker told her, "My daughter thought your date was weird. He opened the car door for her and would not drive away until she was inside the house." Poor girl, imagine the guys she must have later dated.
In the latter 1960s, my ex-wife got a chuckle out of telling me of a time when she and our three girls were riding in the car with her date. When they reached their destination, he got of the car and stood on the sidewalk waiting for them to get out of the car. One of my young girls commented to their mom, "He's not like daddy, is he, mom? Daddy would have opened the door for us."
I was happy to see that some of my Southern had rubbed off on them, even though they were from Denver. But, I never could get them to like the taste of buttermilk. I guess you have to be born to that taste.
The next time you hear someone say, "Y'all come back now, ya heah?" - you will know you have met a Southerner.
God bless, have a wonderful, blessed day,
Bill
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