In the South

I knew I was in the South as I stepped off the plane even before the humid oppressive heat blasted my pale Northern skin. My olfactory senses were bombarded with dirt and musk and sweat. The Southern drawl dialects filtered thru my consciousness. Listen carefully, they are not all the same. Some travelers connected joyfully, some tearfully, others hesitantly, with fellow Southerners.

I think being a Southerner is an attitude born of long, humid, scorchingly hot days and perseverance. The melding with the heat of the day and its pattern of activity and rest. Northerners don't know how to slow down enough to meld with the day and the heat. We push past the heat with our air conditioned everything. We don't slow down enough to appreciate a tall glass of sweet tea, rivulets of water sliding slowly down the outside of the glass as we bring it to a heated brow for a brief respite from the world.