My South

An Essay

My South is Pinto Beans and cornbread with just a little bit of mayo cause thats how Granny did it.

My South is Tomatoes fresh off the vine and eaten like an apple until you get sores in your mouth and the juice ruins the collar of your white t shirt.

My South is hearing a screen door slap against the frame during a wind storm like some sort of Appalachian metronome keeping time in a place where it has otherwise stood still.

My South is listening to the old men down at the meat and 3 restaurant on Gordon Street talk without a sense of irony about how their wives don’t do nothing but gossip.

My South is knowing that the best pickles are in Aunt Jane’s window sill but that I better ask first in case that jar was promised to the preacher.

My South is knowing that if anyone died we could always look forward to Mrs. Eulene staying up all night making casseroles so the family was fed.

My South sure does miss Mrs. Eulene.

My South is an 8 year old going door to door trying to get some yard work in the neighborhood because he needs a new baseball bat and he wants to earn it hisself.

My South is getting in a fist fight with your best friend and then going to lunch together an hour later

My South is taking your Granny to the beauty shop and watching The Price is Right while the old women in Beehive hairdos talk about how their husbands spend too much time at the meat and 3 on Gordon Street.

My South is talking about how we will never experience another run quite like the Braves had in the 90’s.

My South is cookin’ a pig in the ground on Friday night because your team has the 12 o’clock game on Saturday.

My South is a bottled Coke with peanuts in it… and My South does not care if you think thats gross.

My South is the fresh smell of Oatmeal Creme Pies if you drive by the Little Debbie Bakery at just the right time.

My South was my Uncle Jordan playing pool with all us kids during Christmas cause he didn’t care what all the grown ups had to say neither.

My South is a vegetable stand on the side of the road where you take what you want and leave your money in the basket.

My South is flawed. My South has a less than admirable past. My South has a lot of work to do yet, but I still live here knowing that we will get there one day.

I stay here because this is My South and I love it