I Think I'm Becoming Southern

I grew up in New England--Connecticut to be precise. You really don't get much more Yankee than that. Sure, I had a few Southern tendencies--I like iced tea with lots of sugar, but I always drank it the Northern way, sucking up the undissolved granules from the bottom of the glass with a straw. I didn't know such a thing as "sweet tea" existed until I came to Tennessee for college.

In addition to opening my eyes to the idea of sweetening tea while it's hot, and then adding the ice so the sugar is melted in, I picked up the handy second person plural. After all, I studied Spanish which has not one but two tenses, ustedes for formal and vosotros for informal. The closest Yankee English has is the sexist you guys and I suppose you could argue that the phrase you all is the ustedes of English. But, as we all know, the Southerners have y'all.

I took this phrase with me when I left the South for my first job in New York. I also brought a stack of country music CDs (mostly Reba McEntire). Back up North, I resigned myself to once again adding sugar packets to iced tea (you know you've crossed from South to North when you order a "sweet tea" and the waitress replies, "Well...we have iced tea. And sugar.")

Being in the college bubble, I did not absorb nearly as much Southern culture as I have since I moved back to Tennessee about four years ago. I realized it last week when a new coworker was telling an anecdote about a friend, and commented, "He doesn't have nearly as strong a Southern accent as I do." I was surprised to realize I hadn't noticed my coworker had an accent at all. My eyes are open to all the ways I have become Southern. When I first moved from New York, I couldn't bring myself to go to the local deli, because when I ordered:
"ARoastBeefOnWhiteWithLettuceTomatoMustardOnionsNoMayo" they didn't start throwing it together before I got to Tomato. Instead, the man behind the counter would wait a moment, and then say,
"What kind of bread?"
"White. Roast beef, lettuce, tomato, onions, mustard."
"Wait, roast beef....what do you want on it?"
Having spent six years spoiled by New York delis, it all seemed agonizingly slow. But now, I go to that same deli once a week and enjoy the calm pace.

Instead of studiously ignoring the lady idly chitchatting with the waitress while we both waited for our take-out orders at the Chinese restaurant this evening, I struck up a conversation about Oprah's weight, and why kitchens are bigger and more open than they used to be.

I like to eat barbecue--I even ate my pork barbecue sandwich today despite the fact that they left off the sauce and added cole slaw. I also know that's a regional difference (though I'm not Southern enough yet to know what regions).

When I arrived at work this morning I saw a man crossing the lobby in plaid pants, and my internal voice said, "Now that's just not right, right there." Putting aside the fact that Yankees don't generally wear plaid pants unless they're golfing (and there aren't many golf courses in midtown Manhattan), I tried to dismiss this sign, blaming it on the fact that I was listening to a Lewis Grizzard comedy routine on my commute in. Then I realized--I was listening to Lewis Grizzard. I was even laughing as he made jokes at the expense of Yankees and Georgia football!

Football. I've actually started watching this season, since my alma mater started winning. I actually care what's going on, and yell at the screen when I watch it on TV. I also have knowledge that I probably don't need. I know why restrictor plates are controversial in NASCAR. I can name most of the current members of the Grand Ole Opry--as well as many of those who aren't current (and I have most of them on my iPod). I know cornbread dressing is not something you put on salad. I eat at meat-and-threes.

And I still drink sweet tea pretty much daily--I guess I haven't changed that much.