What is good about the south?

Watermelons are plentiful, corn is knee high by the Fourth of July give or take a flood or drought or both. The Symphony is playing in the park after dark even though it is still 90 degrees out. Mommas chase kids, Grandmas fan themselves, and the men mop up their sweaty brows and whistle while muttering something, that if audible, would get them smacked on the head with Grandma’s fan.

This is my last summer in the south, that I know of. I must have a dozen pairs of shorts and sleeveless shirts…all will soon be relegated to the duffel bag for Caribbean cruises. As will the five bathing suits I own. I’m moving to Portland, I am pretty sure I won’t need more than one bathing suit to swim at the ‘Y’. Humans don’t actually swim in the ocean up there. I think it’s designated as Sea Lion territory and for other animals that have just a tad more blubber than I do, granted just a tad.

Here’s what I will miss about the south.

Sweet tea. And by sweet I mean it tastes as if it was stirred with rock candy and sugar cane. I am actually surprised scientifically that water can hold that much dissolved sugar. The tea part I believe is for coloring effect. Do not drink after 5pm. I did last night and was up until 5am.

Eye contact. This may be a no-brainer if you live outside a city or crowded suburb. When I lived in New York City it was an unspoken rule. Never make eye contact, that’s a good way to get mugged. In the south folks like to make eye contact. They like to shake your hand. They smile a lot. They wink and it means howdy. They ask you how you are and listen to the answer. Go figure.

Courtesy. The first month I was here I went to the local Ace Hardware store to buy some top soil in bag. The clerk was busy with a line out the door, so it was up to me to pick up the bags and get them into the trunk of my car. A man jumped out of his pick-up, wife still in the cab and started hauling soil into my trunk. Up north if someone did that they would expect a tip. Not down here, a tip would be insulting. Wow!

Parties. I’ve been to parties in the Hamptons, Hard Rock Cafe NYC, The Waldorf, Beverly Hills, and the south of France. I know a good party. This is what I saw in the south. Homemade food. The folks who were serving the food were friends of the host and their high school kids. It was usually a fundraiser for a good cause and it was always a dressy affair. Most parties were outdoors and crammed packed with people. People liked each other, or at least acted like it. Not sure if I can wear crushed velvet off-the-shoulder in Portland. May have to get another duffel bag relegated to formal cruise wear.

Food. Fried chicken, pulled pork (as in ‘A Pork Pulling’: the entire hog is roasted and torn apart…I know you vegetarians just puked.) But the rest of us? We are piling it onto hot dog rolls and adding cole slaw, BBQ sauce and/or vinegar. There are wickedly sweet salads of red grapes and candied pecans. Things called cheeses straws show up at every party. Best I can tell these are cheesy dough sticks that have been fried. Then there are the cakes. No southern hostess would serve a cake unless it was at least 8″ high. Fruit pies, meringues to die for…lemon and chocolate. Did I mention the fudge? I am hoping that I will have another duffel bag soon of all my size 12s and higher.  So I say adieu to the foods of the south.

Ah, alas and a ‘Farewell to Yams’.