Early Sunday Morning

I love the early Sunday morning, because no one is up. Terry sleeps in, I can hear the coffee pot making it’s random noises, and this morning there’s a thunderstorm. I love a good thunderstorm, inside the thick walls of my house, with the window opened and a cool breeze. Roxie (our yellow lab) is snoring softly on the couch. I am sure the weinerdogs (still in their crates) hear it and are pretty sure they don’t want to go outside, so I am letting them sleep in as well. They’re kinda wussy when it comes to meteorlogical change.

I’m thinking about living in The South. I’ve been here since I was 9, and consider myself a Southerner at this point. I have the accent down, and the culinary habits (Uncle Shug’s, fried okra, fried squash, fried pound cake with ice cream, sweet tea), and the disdain for poorly behaved people. Now, I don’t mean people who suck their teeth or scratch, but the ones who are gratuitously mean and unforgiving. Oh, we can be mean and unforgiving, to be sure (we’re human, after all), but Southerners are unfailingly polite. Hold the door open, let the pregnant woman (or old, or one with the armload) have the seat, compliment the 6 inch lift and 36″ mud tires on your Silverado, that kind of polite.

The South catches a bad rap. Racism being the biggest one. Usually by people who have never lived here. Yes, it exists. I daresay it’s not the only place it exists, tho. Go to Saudi Arabia and see how the Pakistanis are treated. Go to California and consider Hispanics. Go to Vermont and consider anyone who isn’t a New Englander. I am tired of being made fun of on TV. I am weary of poorly executed fake Southern accents being used to identify the dumb thug bad guy in movies, or the blonde tart. It is really getting old, and under my skin.

Is it a perfect place for anyone and everyone? No, of course it isn’t. Assholes live everywhere. However, just because some person (who couldn’t introspect his way out of a Walmart bag) decided the black family that moved in down the street is the source of all his problems and did something violent and hateful, and that moron is a Southerner (yes, they exist) does not by default mean that ALL Southerners wish they could do the same thing. So I get kind of pissy when people start going on about Southerners! KKK! Cross burning! YES! It’s AWFUL! And I have never met a cross burner! I have never SEEN a burning cross! I’ve never KNOWN a family who had one burned in their lawn! WHADYAKNOW!

I do, however, know a black family who moved here from Chicago, because they were kinda tired of 10 yr old black kids being shot by other black kids on their front lawn. So they moved to The South. Whadyaknow.

I’m getting a little riled, it’s a gorgeous rainy Sunday morning, and I want to get in the right frame of mind for worship.

So I am going to be thankful for a few things:
Good friends, whatever race they might be
good bacon, because who isn’t thankful for that?
A solid house to listen to the thunder outside, and be safe
Living in a region where people know you exist, and hold the door for you.


About rootietoot

I do what I can.
This entry was posted in *whinge*, In The Southland, Sometimes she thinks too much. Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Early Sunday Morning

  1. Elizabeth says:

    Currently reading a book set in Northern Alabama and came across this bit and you popped right into my mind. Not related to your post other than it is southern, sort of and yes, I agree with your comments.

    “Have some more bacon”
    “No, I’m too upset to eat bacon.” Wendell loved bacon. It was sacred food for him and he didn’t want to sully the experience by partaking of it while in a dark mood.

    “…sure you don’t want some more bacon?”
    “Maybe just a piece,” ….. He crunched on a strip.Then another. The salty pork had a calming effect, like warm, chewy opium with streaks of fat and rind.
    from: Sorrow Wood by Raymond L. Atkins. I’m half way through the book and loving it.

    • rootietoot says:

      “He crunched on a strip.Then another. The salty pork had a calming effect, like warm, chewy opium with streaks of fat and rind.”

      Yes! Bacon always make it better! We southerners KNOW what we’re talking about!

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