Y'all Come back now, ya hear?

I was recently sent a link to a blog post which was filled with 'southernisms' and a few phrases that, to an undiscerning ear, don't make sense unless you have stepped off the highway and onto a rural route road in a county below the Mason-Dixon line.

The post was a gentle poke at the language and culture of language that still defines the South as a 'nation all its own'. I wasn't offended by the list, because truthfully, the words and phrases are things I've heard all of my life. The rich and colorful palette of colors painted in a Southern Drawl are something to make a rainbow pale in comparison.


Even in foreign places, a Southern accent is recognized as an anomaly. Regardless of which of the U.S. States you visit, a magnolia and honeysuckle tinted voice is identifiable as a reminder of someplace very different than the rest of the world.

It's no wonder people from all over the world TRY to sound Southern. Most of them miserably fail in the attempt, but at least they are trying to connect to something good and fine.

I have seen Hollywood portrayals that fall short of reality when it comes to speaking the language of the South. They mean well most of the time, but sometimes they are mean spirited and depict the South as a place where we marry our first cousins, are uneducated hillbillies, all chew tobacco from the time we are born and live in a dwelling that either has wheels or should be condemned due to our laziness in keeping it up.

I'm rather amazed at that particular type of jibe since the folks at NASA are pretty beholden to a bunch of 'redneck engineers' that came into the space program to work with Dr. Wehrner von Braun and gently lit the candle that sent a man to the moon.

While it's true that there are a few people more interested in moonshine than space flight, the fact is, either way, through engineering or corn squeezings, somebody's gonna get launched by nightfall.

We have beautiful homes (with and without wheels), we love our families and we go to church more often than just for weddings, funerals, Easter and Christmas. We have bluegrass bands and rock and roll. We enjoy baseball, hot dogs, apple pie and Chevrolets. Big trucks with mud tires are a staple and many a farmer has a hidden college degree in something that he's just to well-bred to brag about.

Speaking the phrases that are like mother's milk to the residents who are blessed enough to be here in God's Country is a gift. We have a language that is set apart from all others. If it were not so, why would so many people try to emulate it, whether that copycatting is done in jest or in praise of the South?

But just knowing the words isn't enough...we have transplants who haven't yet learned that.

Coming to the South to become a resident, you have to learn that a slower pace is a GOOD thing. Too many people from other places bring an outsider's timetable with them from other areas and it disturbs them greatly when it isn't met here.

Although some Yankee practices have crept in, vigilance keeps most things out that interfere with the quiet, contemplative lifestyle that brings ease and peace to a troubled world. And by the way, Yankee is a term to describe ANYONE not from the southern states.

Magnolia trees with fragrant blossoms dot many areas of our community. Passing them on a sidewalk trip to town is a powerful and decadent experience for the olfactory senses which are daily assaulted by the unpleasantness and grime of daily living.

To smell the jasmine and honeysuckle and to feel the moist, warm breeze is to step back into the gentle graces of a place where "yes ma'am" and "yes sir" are still taught to youngsters as a gracious hospitality and show of respect to one's elders, not a reminder of subervience.

Walking to the "Creme Delight" on a warm evening and strolling through the Courthouse Square while the bluegrass band plays a selection is to remove your time piece and learn to feel your own heart beating again in a relaxed pace set to the rhythm of the band.

Oh, the lessons of "Y'allbonics" goes to a much richer and deeper place than simply speaking the language. Indeed, to speak is only the introduction to a life rich and full with the anticipation of all things small town and hospitably companionable in the Deep South.

If you need a break from the hectic pace of life and have never ventured below the Mason-Dixon line, this is the place to escape it all. And if it's been a while since you managed a trip here for the Fiddler's Convention the first weekend in October, get it on your calendar now.

In the words of my folks and family from 'way back, "Y'all come back now, ya hear?"