Ask the Southern Gal

I've lived in eight different Southeastern states, and I figure that makes me qualified as an expert on Southernisms. So that, along with a deep respect for my dear friends from Elsewhere, inspires this helpful guide.

I don't know if y'all have noticed, but our part of the Carolina's has become home to folks from all over the U.S., and quite a few folks from across the Big Pond. Some of my favorite friends are from north of the Mason-Dixon. Occasionally I am asked questions about the Southern culture, so I figured I'd answer a few here:

1) Jan, the other day, a neighbor took me to a barbecue eatery to "initiate me" into the South. When I ordered unsweetened tea, the waitress looked at me like I'd lost my mind. What gives?

Lawsy, girl. Unsweeted tea at a barbecue joint? Ain't gonna happen.

2) Speaking of Southern cuisine, how do you fry okra?

Why, barefoot, of course!

3) Is it true that "bless your heart" is just a way to talk bad about people and feel okay about it?

Heavens, no. We're equal opportunity heart blessers. We bless your heart whether we like you or not!

4)What about people calling me ma'am? Are they being sarcastic, or what?

No ma'am! Their mama just taught 'em good manners.

5) I saw a vine at the of the road that seems to grow very well in this area. I'm thinking about planting some to grow up my porch rail.

Gracious daisies, child, that's kudzu! I had a cousin that saw some at the edge of his driveway one morning, and when he came home that evening, he couldn't find his house!

6) Do Southerners listen to anything other than country music?

Of course, darlin'! We listen to country AND western!

7) And what's with everyone calling me "darlin"??

Why, sugah, we just can't remember your name!

If you have a question about the South that you'd like answered, feel free to leave a comment. I'd be tickled to death to help you out. Come back later now, y'hear?

http://www.thelakewylieman.com/

Early Memories of Lake Wylie

Some of my earliest memories include "going to the river" with my Grandmama and Granddaddy. He'd hitch up his boat to his old blue Ford pick-up, while Grandmama packed a cooler with iced tea (sweet, of course!), fried chicken, home grown tomatoes, and a giant watermelon. Granddaddy would take one or two of us with him to the boat landing, which usually involved a stop at the bait shop for a styrofoam canister of worms.

Meanwhile, the rest would pile into Grandmama's car and head to the river shack. We'd drive down Allison Creek Road, which at that time was an adventure in dodging potholes. Then we'd veer off to the left onto a dirt road with no road sign. We'd take a left fork first, then a right, then another right, and so on. Those who didn't know the way would follow hand painted signs that were nailed to the pine trees at each fork.

A day at "the river" (which is how Lake Wylie was referred to in the days before Jimmy Carter) always involved lots of swimming (or bobbing around with those lovely orange life jackets), a bit of fishing with cane poles, getting bitten by chiggers, and eating watermelon. Ah, those were the days!

If an afternoon thunderstorm came up, we'd duck into the shack, hand-built by my grandfather. It had a small kitchen, a living room, and one bedroom. The "bathroom" was down a path into the woods . . .

At the end of the day, we'd go back to Grandmother's house, a bit sunburned and VERY tired. We'd paint our chigger bites with fingernail polish and go straight to bed!