The Sin of Pride

Running a 10K on lovely, cool summer morning is akin to chewing a plaque tablet. You remember those little pink tablets that the dentist used to give us, or they’d hand out at school during dental hygiene week? The ones that you chewed after brushing and then opened your mouth and saw all the plaque you missed? Well running is just like that.

I was inordinately proud of myself for finishing my first 10K and I’m pretty sure, I made sure everyone else knew about it… “I’ll have paper bags and did I mention I ran a 10K this morning?” I could be heard saying at the grocery store or “No, come on over for dinner, I ran the 10K this morning, but I still have plenty of time to make dinner for twelve” to friends. And then I got in the shower and was instantly transported back to being the annoying know-it all seven year old insisting that I’m the perfect teeth brusher, only to be knocked off my high horse by those stupid pink pills.

Now I’m someone who is happiest when the water is just shy of scalding. But on this day, the day of my athletic triumph, I kept turning the temperature down, and down and further down. In fact I turned it so far down, even my husband, who prefers to shower in what can barely be called tepid water, was turning it up. And then it dawned on me, it was the pink pill effect. Here I was feeling all good about running, basking in my general in-shapeness and I realized that the temperature felt so hot because I was freezing – or at least certain parts of me were. Parts like my hips and butt and other places fat likes to collect. My thighs and arms and other muscled areas were still warm from the expenditure of energy, but the rest of me, not so much so. Who knew that running a 10K would actually highlight, much like those pink pills, all the areas I need to work on?? And I was feeling so good about myself. I guess pride really does come back to bite you in the butt…and apparently everywhere else you have fat.

A Word on Horoscopes

Have you ever noticed that while most of us say we don’t believe in horoscopes, we rarely, if ever, say we don’t read them. I know because I fall into this category. Even though I think it’s crazy that some people think a few sentences about life has universal application to everyone born between April 20th and May 20th (I’m a Taurus), I still have my horoscope pop up on my home page everyday.

Some people say that horoscopes are really just a vehicle to help you look at your life in a different way, not a guide for how your day or life is going to go. And I have to say, I completely agree. More often than not, I read my horoscope and say “I wish my life was like that. Even if just for a day.”

The other day, my horoscope read something along the lines of “Something crazy will happen today, go with it and all will be good.” I’m a more-or-less at home mom with two school aged boys who are into all the sports and things that require me to drive 60 miles a day all within a five miles radius of our home. Having something crazy and unexpected happen might be kind of exciting, especially since the horoscope made it sound like it would be a fun/crazy thing and not a bad/crazy thing. I felt strangely let down when life proceeded as usual that day.

Just yesterday, my horoscope read that I should jump into the (assuming) metaphorical pool with both feet and everything will be good. I’m pretty sure they didn’t mean signing up to head the Ice cream Social at school.

But then there is The Onion. If you are anything like me, you need to include a weekly reading of your horoscope on this site. While all the others tend to remind me of the monotony of life (and I have to say, thank god for that because really, while I would love for my life to be like my horoscope on some days, who could handle all that excitement every day?? Yesterday I was supposed to jump into the pool, but today I'm supposed to keep my mouth shut), The Onion reminds me that even though my life is a pretty routine suburban life, I can still appreciate sarcasm and political incorrectness. Although I suppose as a Taurus I should be careful since, according to the powers that be at The Onion, “You’ll be pulled over by the grammar police this week, asked to slowly step out of your car, and then beaten mercilessly for using a double negative.”

I don’t not think that will happen, but I’ll let you know.

India and Georgia - Secret Sisters??

One of the biggest perceptions northerners have about the south is that the south is bigoted and racist. From a quantitative perspective, I can’t comment on this either way, but I won’t deny that in many Northerners’ point of view, “The South” and “Racist” or “Bigots” are nearly synonymous terms.

I bring this up because during my visit to Georgia there was more than one occasion when, but for the color of people’s skin, I could have been visiting with my Indian family. The incongruity of it all was startling, but the fact remains, India and Georgia seem to have a lot in common. (And when I say “Indian” I mean Indian from India, not Native American.)

I fell in love with Savannah during my few days there and in an effort to convince my husband that the South really isn’t that bad, I even made a list noting the similarities between his native culture and the state through which I was traveling.

1) When leaving a social engagement or saying goodbye after a meal, it takes at least twenty minutes – usually more to actually make it out the door
2) Social gatherings are marked by a general sense of complete and utter chaos
3) Being thirty minutes late isn’t late, it’s on time. Showing up at the appointed time is rude
4) The weather is hot and muggy
5) Everything revolves around food and meals
6) The meals themselves are shockingly similar in style in that there are at least 200 different dishes served at each meal – probably more at formal events
7) Indians and Georgians have an uncanny ability to make okra actually taste good
8) Religion is not just a religion, it’s a social thing, too
9) It’s hot and muggy
10) Everything moves a lot slower than it does in other places in the world. For example, getting your car fixed in Seattle will take approximately four hours. In Georgia and India, it will be more like four days. But the delay isn’t a big a deal since family and friends are always there to help out and drive you anyplace you need to go while your car is in the shop
11) The concept of community and family is central to the society
12) Appearances count for a lot
13) You will be judged in the afterlife on the extent of your hospitality
14) It’s hot and muggy

Needless to say, despite the similarities, I couldn’t convince him and we’re still living in rainy, gray Seattle and not warm, beautiful Savannah. Of course, our kids are getting a top notch public school education, the technology industry is still pretty strong here and violent crime is nearly unheard of in our area. But even so, I think people might be surprised at just how easy it could be for an Indian to slip right into the Southern culture.

A word on the word “Redneck”

Redneck is an interesting word. I don’t know what the etymology of it is, although I would guess it has something to do with the men (and women) who worked in the fields and the sun exposure. But, whatever it meant then, it now means something else (or, rather, a lot of somethings else. And yes, I know “somethings” is not a word).

In the south, redneck seems to mean something like the salt of the earth. It refers to someone who has no pretenses, isn’t afraid of manual labor, doesn’t aspire to material wealth, and is somewhat traditional in their thinking. They may possibly more politically conservative, but after meeting a few self-proclaimed rednecks in Georgia this past summer (including an eighty year old woman who worked her family farm as a child), I’m not entirely sure this is true. It is true that they were much more conservative than me and my liberal friends in some ways, but in others, they were fairly progressive and open which, yes, did surprise me.

While some folks I met in Georgia did use the term in an uncomplimentary way (more akin to what I grew up with), I found it interesting that it is a much more dimensional word than I ever suspected. For example, the country singer Gretchen Wilson made it big with her hit “Redneck Woman,” describing herself as someone who shops at Wal-Mart, keeps her Christmas lights on all year, and stands barefooted in the front yard with a baby on her hip. It all sounds kind of charming and harmless, doesn’t it?

But, in Northern California (where I grew up), if you refer to someone as a redneck, about the only thing they’ll have in common with Ms. Wilson’s version is that they’ll be standing in the front yard. They won’t have a baby on their hip, but they will be toting a huge-ass rifle and if you’re not white, it will be pointed at you. Hell, even if you are white it will probably be pointed at you since if you’re close enough to see the front yard, you’re probably trespassing. In California, there’s nothing charming about a redneck. They’re mean and bigoted. In fact, where I grew up, the terms “redneck” and “bigoted” are basically interchangeable. And god knows where they shop. Rednecks in California span the socio-economic spectrum and you’re just as likely to see on in Neiman Marcus as you are in Wal-Mart. It never occurred to me that it could be any different.

When I started thinking about the word “redneck” and its meanings I realized that while I had some idea of how the South and the West thinks about the word, I was struggling with the Massachusetts/Northeast definition of the word. I spent a lot of time there, I have a lot of friends there, it didn’t seem like it would be that hard to come up with a contextual definition of the word. But I couldn’t. I can’t. And after several days of digging through my memories, I realized that the word “redneck” isn’t really used in Massachusetts (or other parts of New England I’ve been to). I’m not sure if it’s because the word – like the word “Republican” – isn’t used in polite society (or at least not used politely in society) or just that it’s not part of the vocabulary. Either way, if you refer to someone as a redneck while you’re in Massachusetts, you’ll probably be met with a blank stare, and then the person to whom you are talking will just assume that you are referring to someone who got a little too much sun. Probably while vacationing at the Cape.

In summary…well there really isn’t a summary to this blog. I just thought it was interesting to discover that a word I grew up knowing positively what it meant can actually mean something else. And not only that, its meaning isn’t necessarily something to dislike. Bigots and bigotry are definitely something I don’t condone, but people like the ‘rednecks’ I met in Georgia – people who work hard, play hard, and (probably) pray hard – are people any one can respect.

A Perspective on Feminism from the South

In July last year (2008) I traveled from Seattle to Georgia for the express purpose of meeting Southerners. Of all kinds. It’s a long story as to why I ended up interested in this topic, by suffice it to say, my trip to Georgia is the first in what I hope will be a much larger project looking at the perceptions and misconceptions Northerners have about the South. Below is an excerpt from a chat I had with a woman who is quite possibly the epitome of a Southern Belle.

On a warm Saturday morning, we gathered at the home of a woman whose family had been in the Madison, Georgia area for generations. Viviane lives in a development a few minutes away from the town square in a lovely little brick home with a well maintained, but browning lawn. I didn’t realize when I traveled to Georgia, a place I think of as damp and humid, that the state, along with much of the South was experiencing one of the worst droughts in decades – affecting not just lawns, but the substantial farming community as well.

We retired to the sitting room, a room steeped in her family traditions and mementos, with sweet tea. And let me tell you, the lilting cadence of a true Southern accent isn’t something Hollywood created – in fact I don’t think they’ve ever done it justice. Viviane, as she talked about growing up in the Madison area, her family and how they survived The War (and yes, when they say The War down South, it’s always in capital letters and it always means the Civil War), could have charmed a snake with her accent.

We talked a lot about the women of the South. She pointed out that Southern women were not only left during The War (when their husbands, brothers, fathers and sons went to fight) but, unlike the Northern women, Southern women also had to defend their homes and families. They became soldiers in their own right fighting, in what ways they could, to protect what they valued, home and hearth. And while this might conjure up images of Scarlet protecting Tara, it was about much more than this. Homes were and are a symbol of family sovereignty, but from a purely practical perspective, these women were fighting to have a roof over their head for themselves and their families. I’m sure they wanted to and did try to save as many family heirlooms as possible, but you can’t tell me that between a cherished piece of family silver or food for her baby, any of these women picked the silver. They needed their homes for shelter and they needed their land for food and they did what they could to make sure that they had both.

And when it was all over, and when there was, literally in some places, nothing left but ashes, they had to rebuild and survive. If they were lucky, their men survived and came home, but many, like some of Viviane’s relatives were left widowed and fatherless. If they could, the women rebuilt. If it wasn’t possible they did whatever else they could to provide for their families. Viviane’s grandmother (several ‘greats’ back) became a teacher in one of the first schools for black children.

After hearing all this and gaining a different understanding of the impact The War had on the women of the South, I asked her what she thought about the Northern stereotype of the Southern woman – the idea that feminism just passed the whole region by.

She laughed and said something like this: “Honey, feminism didn’t come here because it didn’t need to.”