a newspaper column by John Brock
JOHN BROCK is a retired newspaper editor and publisher, college professor, university administrator, Motion Picture producer and entrepreneur. His columns appear weekly in South Carolina’s oldest newspaper, The Georgetown Times, and in several other newspapers in the Charleston, SC area. The columns depict one person’s observations of growing up and living Southern - along with occasional topics of national interest.
Excerpts from
Southern Breezes…….
WAR
OF NORTHERN AGGRESSION
The only real lesson learned as a result of the Civil War was that if
you try to un-join something and the US Army doesn't want you to, you
might as well expect six decades or more of depredation called
“Reconstruction.” Union General Sherman burned our homes, barns,
fields, courthouses, etc. and it took a couple of generations to get
back on our feet. Non-Southerners really should not find it very hard to
fathom that Southerners are still a little sore about this unnecessary
destruction.
MY MOTHER WAS A TALKER
She was raised
in the Southern tradition of believing that it was not only necessary
but also polite to extend the discussion. All of her family were
proponents of saying “blah, blah, blah” when “blah” would have sufficed
THE HUSH PUPPY MYTH
Southerners have
always eaten cornbread prepared in various and sundry ways because
cornmeal was cheap and we just couldn't often afford much else. Some
enterprising Southerner spawned the tale that the cook would toss a
morsel of fried cornbread to the howling dogs in the back yard with the
admonition, "Hush, Puppy!" What a lot of hokum. Can you imagine a
Southerner saying, "Hush, Puppy". It would have been more likely, "Shet-up
you damn dog". But we had sense enough to know that not even a
Northerner would ever be likely to order "Shet-up Damn Dogs" with his
fish or barbecue platter.
SPEED TRAP REVENGE
We vowed that
Sherman would be the last Yankee to pass through the Southland
unencumbered. So, we invented speed traps. Yankee motorists have
supported untold numbers of Southern villages ever since.
ORIGIN OF REBEL YELL
Kidney Stones are a part of living in most areas of the South. Of course, the Tourist Boards don’t let you in on this little secret but I hear tell that in the entire territory of Dixie last year, our proud residents grew over 300 metric tons of Kidney Stones while Mid-Westerners were able to produce only a paltry pound and a half with the Northeast not doing much better. In fact, I think our famous Rebel Yell has its origin in the wailings of a Southern Kidney Stone victim engaged in the “passing” process.
BREAD MACHINE
After several months of not going near the machine, we were sitting around the table with some church friends after dinner and my wife was telling them that she had given me a bread-maker but I was afraid to use it. They all tormented me, “WHY?” I was a little embarrassed to admit that I had been hesitant to use the machine because it involved dough and I was fearful of catching a yeast infection. Their mouths dropped and the conversation halted.
HAND WASHING SURVEY
When I was a college professor, I once started a survey of how many men washed their hands after a visit to the toilet. I wasn’t able to do an extensive survey because after waiting in the men’s room for almost an hour, I was getting uncomfortable because people were beginning to look at me with that what-are-you-doing-here look. I left before someone called the manager, but not before discerning from my very limited pool of survey-ees that only two out of ten men washed their hands. Think about that the next time you shake some guy’s hand or ask him to “pass the salt”.
MODERN MUSIC
Calling many writers of today's music "composers" is akin to referring to butchers as "artists". Today’s church music is no exception. One of the best examples is an inspiring little ditty entitled "Let the River Flow". So help me, ninety percent of the entire piece is the repetition of the phrase, "Let the river flow, let the river flow, etc." - ad nauseam. (We call it 7/11 music – you pick out seven words and repeat them eleven times) After more than eleven repetitions of "Let the river flow, let the river flow, let the river flow, etc.", I begin to wonder if I have been captured into a group of slow learners or if I should seek higher ground. All of a sudden I longed for the old hymn, "Lord, plant my feet on higher ground"!
FLOR-IDIOTS
The only people I ever hear of who move North to retire are people from Florida. And most of these are originally from the Northeast and are simply moving back farther north after having migrated South in the first place. In the mountains of the Carolinas, these folk are known as "Half-backs". They move halfway back north for retirement or vacation. Otherwise, they are known simply as "Flor-idiots".
DEVIL TO BLAME
In the days of my youth, Southern Society blamed almost everything evil on the Devil. The rest was blamed on Union Army General Sherman. In the Southern Culture, it was often too polite to assess blame to the individual, so, instead old Beelzebub took the rap. If some mother ran away with a stranger or if some husband/father came home drunk and threw the Christmas tree out of the front door, we excused it with, “The Devil made ‘em do it.” It took away an aura of judgment on our part toward the misguided soul and placed it where it belonged – on Old Satan, himself.
SOUTHERN FATALISM
The South has traditionally lived in the world of so-called “Fatalism” – the firm Calvinistic belief that whatever happens is going to happen and there is not much we can do about it. The Presbyterians were especially good with this rationale but the Baptists and Methodists were not very far behind. We all pretty much believed that if there was going to be meaningful reward (or punishment), it would be in the hereafter. There was never much doubt about it. We thank God for our blessings and blame the Devil for everything else.
MOMMY, I LIFTED THE LID
Then there was the Sears-Roebuck episode. Our four-year-old son had accompanied his mother to the local Sears store. While she placed an order at the Catalog Sales counter, which was located just behind the Plumbing Department, the youngster found other occupation. When my wife missed him she looked around and there he was right before God and mankind– using the commode in the plumbing display! Necessity is the mother of convenience, so, he had utilized the familiar fixture for its intended usage even though the commode was out in the open and connected to no plumbing at all. His mother was mortified and admonished him instantly. He saw no wrong in his actions because after all we had gone to great length to house train him and he replied instantly to her complaint, “But, Mommy, I lifted the lid”.
M & M TIME
It’s M & M time again in our beloved Southland – ‘Mater and Mayonnaise sandwiches - on white bread of course. Nothing tempts a Southerner’s palate more than a freshly picked, homegrown tomato -- still warm from the hot summer sun, sliced and slathered with mayo on fresh bread. We call it “light” bread. Be sure to apply ample salt and black pepper. Alllllll Right….!
PC FOR SOUTHERNERS
Every other group of people except Southerners have somehow managed to untangle themselves from stereotyping. It is even illegal in some incidences to refer to some people by traditional terms. Political Correctness dictates most of the language of society today but it is still OK to portray Southerners as redneck, rube, cousin-marrying, stupid, slow, funny-talking Americans. When do we get to enjoy Political Correctness?
DIPPING SNUFF
My great-aunts were a tad embarrassed at the practice; therefore, dippin’ only took place among close family and friends. Whenever one particular aunt would purchase a little can of Tube Rose Snuff, she always carefully explained to the grocer that it was for powdering her rose bushes to ward off insects. One day the preacher walked into the yard just as she had opened a new can of snuff. She was obliged to sprinkle it onto her rosebushes. The reverend had been in the grocery store earlier in the day as she purchased her stash and had overheard her explanation of insect-killing intent. She had to remain honest in the eyes of the pastor but that didn’t prevent her from complaining later to me, “That dad-blamed preacher cost me to waste a whole new can of Tube Rose!”
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