In the wake of recent political developments and for reasons known only to them, numerous writers from the Northeast have been descending on more Southern and Midwestern portions of our nation, attempting to determine what drives us.
While it's not quite clear from their copy if they reach any startling conclusions, they do seem to latch on to some fairly interesting indicators of the obvious -- at least to them -- superiority of their hometowns. For one writer, a tell was the lack of readily available almond milk.
Apparently civilizations fall not because of moral, economic or environmental catastrophe, but because they don't have more options for the lactose intolerant.
Anyway, once they get past somewhat condescending descriptions of the relative flatness of the terrain (a concept lost on folks who both live around here and have ready access to almond milk, by the way) and the lack of "great" bagels ("its boiled bread, Evan, not the Eucharist; slap a little cream cheese on it and move on.") they tend to land on the "unique" revelation that we exist in "two Americas."
To which I say, just two? I can think of a dozen or so South's without even trying.
There's the South, the region located between the Atlantic and the Texas-New Mexico border. Then there's the Old South, which is the South after David O. Selznick got hold of it.
There's the New South, which is the Old South but in cities and with more cold brew, yoga mats and jobs that don't involve growing things.
Of course, it is important to remember that the nation as a whole was only started a little more than 240 years ago, so "old" is a relative term. And there are parts of the "New" South that still use as landmarks the barn that Sherman burned down.
There's the Atlantic Coast South vs. the Gulf Coast South. One features beaches and hurricanes, the other has beaches, hurricanes and, I don't know, oil spills?
There's the ocean South vs. the Lake South vs. the River South. The difference being sharks, alligators and snakes. In that order.
There's the Southeast vs. the Southwest (Texas) vs. the Western South (Oklahoma, because they really don't want to be that closely affiliated with Texas). In the Southeast the boots are rubber, in Texas the boots are leather and in Oklahoma they've likely come in actual contact with cows and horses.
There's the North Carolina barbeque South vs. the Memphis barbeque South. The deer-hunting South (Mississippi) vs. the duck-hunting South (also Mississippi. Hey, wait a minute there ...).
There's the college-football-loving South vs. ... well, actually that's all the South. Though there does seem to be an ecumenical split between the ACC and the SEC that hasn't quite escalated to the level of the Irish "Troubles. " Yet, anyway.
Speaking of the Irish, there's the new Immigrant South, where people from difficult circumstances come to seek their fortune and escape persecution. That's not to be confused with the old Immigrant South, where people's great great grandfathers came from difficult circumstances to seek their fortune and escape persecution.
Because, as noted writer William Faulkner said, in the South "the past isn't dead. It isn't even the past." And we tend to forget the parts we don't like.
There's Virginia, the cradle of both democracy and the Confederacy. And there's Florida, where the farther south you go, the farther North you get.
So, despite attempts to paint us with one broad, amorphous, Almond Milk-challenged mass of visible humidity and sweat, we of the South stand as a collection of unique, vibrant cultures and histories, a virtual mosaic of all shapes, sizes and colors.
And then there's Louisiana, which, in a region of incredible diversity, holds the distinction of being singularly ... distinct.
How distinct? Well, as an encapsulation of all that makes Louisiana different, I offer this story about noted politician, long-time governor and eventual convicted felon Edwin Edwards. So great was Edwards' reputation for corruption that, during one of his gubernatorial campaigns, waged against a former Imperial Wizard of the Klu Klux Klan (really, only in Louisiana), bumper stickers appeared featuring the slogan, "Vote for the Crook. It's Important."
During another of his campaigns, Edwards was debating a Republican incumbent named David Treen when he offered a somewhat unique take on his reputation. "You know the trouble with you, Davey?" Edwards said. "No one knows if you're honest. Me? Thirteen grand juries and not one indictment. You? Not one grand jury. How do we know?"
The thing is, it's really kind of hard to argue with that logic.
Commentary on 05/24/2019