Would you like a glass of tea?  I’ve got coffee on. Are you hungry? Let’s go sit. Tell me how you’re doing.  How’s your mama?

People have asked me, especially when I lived in California, what it’s like to be a Southerner.  Below I’ve listed some cultural observations, mostly related to my own family experiences.  After all, I’m no sociologist.  I’m just a southern mama, daughter, sister, wife, friend, and neighbor.  If you, like my own Sweet Husband, relocate or just come for a visit the tips below may come in handy.
 
  We appreciate politeness.  The first, and most important, thing you must know about southerners is that we are polite.  Please and thank you are musts.  M’am and Sir are among the first words a baby learns to speak.    Young people are taught to shake hands and make eye contact.  Men stand and give up their seats to women, hold doors, and tip hats.  Women thank them.  In fact, we all hold doors, help the infirm and elderly.  Everyone holds a mother’s bags while she reins in an unruly child.  We carry groceries, change tires, give directions, smile, say “hey”, wait our turn (offer cutsies to those obviously older or in a hurry), and ALWAYS say thank you.  Always.  If you learn nothing else about southern culture, learn to say thanks.  If you are rude, curt, or demanding you are doomed.  Our children learn if they are well-mannered then people will assume they are smarter and better looking than they really are.

  We tell stories. Story telling is a long standing southern tradition.  We like to laugh.  At ourselves and each other.  In my family the first people on any guest list are the best story tellers.  We sit around and tell stories and laugh our asses off.  And we never let the facts get in the way of a good story.  If you can do physical comedy and imitations, all the better.  We appreciate our quirkiness.  We revel in our differences.  You will have to let go of your need for fact checking and just learn to roll with the fun.  Learn to laugh at yourself most importantly. You can’t give it if you can’t take it.

  We like to party.  And I mean we love to throw down.  I don’t care if it’s a Baptist church social or a weekend kegger or anything in between.  We love to party. Food is always the main attraction. And we all bring something.  If you are giving a party and someone asks, “What can I bring?" honor them by letting them bring a casserole, or some fresh corn, or a twelve pack.  Any excuse to get together means a party but the best shindigs are family reunions.  If you are ever invited to a family party, then you are in.  Just remember to bring something.  Never show up empty handed.  Ever.

  We network.  If you need help with something, a new car, a washing machine, your house painted, plumbing, ANYTHING, then we all know “a guy” who can help you.  I don’t know why the yellow pages even bother publishing here.  Really.  The lady who cuts your hair may be my sister’s husband’s niece.  And when you go to see her?  Mention my name.  We all give, and get, friends and family discounts or bonuses. 

When Sweet Husband first moved “home” with me I had to explain this to him.  It went kind of like this:  “Baby, when the plumber gets here don’t just open the door and take him upstairs to the bathroom.  He’s not just some guy.  He’s here because he’s a friend of my brother’s and he owes my brother some favors.  That’s why he’s coming today and not next week.  So…when he gets here shake his hand, bring him into the kitchen for a cup of coffee, shoot the breeze for a few minutes, and when HE stands up and says, 'Let’s take a look at that toilet,' THAT’S when you go upstairs.” 

We keep track of favors and we always, in some way or another, repay.  Give a little, get a little.

  We grow things.  Everyone worth his or her salt grows something.  Vegetables, flowers, fruit trees.  And we share.  If my tomatoes are coming in gangbusters and I know yours won’t be in for a week or so then I bring you some of my best.  Not the little ones.  The pride of my garden.  I honor you with the brightest, freshest tomato I ever grew.  And we look at, and discuss, our gardens.  We admire and touch and walk around each other’s yards.  And we always bring flowers if they are blooming.  I know you like daylilies?  If mine are at their peak I will drive a big bunch with their stems in a bucket of water to your place and leave them on your doorstep.  When your pear tree bears fruit, you reciprocate.

  We honor physical work.  It doesn’t matter if you are a neurosurgeon or a lawyer or governor of the state, if you don’t do you own yard work or clean your own house then you set yourself apart (President Jimmy Carter builds Habitat houses and still takes his turn mowing the grass at his church in Plains). That’s just the facts.  The words, “He’s a hard worker.” are the greatest compliment you will ever receive.  We all know how hard it used to be, most of us grew up poor, and we respect the fact that you still know how to work.  One of the most respected men I know is a doctor who built his own deck and mows his own hay.  If you built it, sewed it, painted it, or fixed it, we respect you.  If you don’t know how?  Well then, we will gladly help you.  There is always time to help someone out.  We all help when it’s time to move.

  We dress to go to the Piggly Wiggly.  Unless you are in the middle of digging up your septic tank and desperately need Gatorade, you are presentable in public.  At the very least comb your hair and put on a clean shirt.  A ball cap will do if you’ve been playing ball or cutting the grass.  Parents who take babies to the store in just a diaper are considered negligent.  

  We go to funerals.  And christenings.  And graduations.  We show up.  It’s just expected.  When my mother passed and we held her memorial service  my childhood playmates, mom’s oldest friends, my kid’s friends, the ladies who worked at the retirement home, co-workers from years past and more were all there.  It’s a sign of respect for the family.  We celebrate and mourn with you.  The saddest thing in the world is a small funeral.

  We are physically affectionate.  We kiss.  We hug.  We pat kids on the head and each other on the shoulder.  It would never occur to me not to kiss my aunts, uncles, cousins, nephews, siblings, friends, and family upon greeting or parting.  If we like you, we hug you.  It’s that simple.

  We take care of our mamas.  And our grandmas.  And our aunts.  Family comes first.  Period.  Southern mothers are held in the highest regard by their children and grand children.  We call them, we visit, we bring food.  We take care of them as they age.  We drop everything we are doing if mama needs us.


So, there you have it!  Southern 101 in a nutshell.  If you are ever in my neck of the woods, be sure to stop by and say hey!  We always have time for a visit.