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My South

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My South is more than a place. It is a way or life, a tradition.

My South understands the importance of family and that’s why we all live here

My South honors unspoken rules like you WILL be in church on Sunday and at supper at Grandma’s house and here for every holiday.

My South has manners. You never respond without a Ma’am or Sir. You always say please, thank-you, and can I help? We call each other darlin’, honey, and dear. We hug all the time, not just a greeting, but warm, full embraces. And old women will leave lipstick on your cheek every Sunday . . . even if they can’t remember your name.

In My South, you’re never alone because the family dog always protects you. You know you’re in trouble when you hear your full name, and you drive home from church starting at age 4.

In My South, we ride in trucks, 4-wheelers, or tractors, depending on how much it has rained. And no matter how many times you tell us, we will not wash our cars.

Growing up in My South, gender didn’t matter. You could sleep over at Steve’s house or be best friends with Trey, and no one gave it a second thought. Girls hunted and fished with the boys, drove tractors, and did chores, just like a boy.

My South knows how to relax. On the boat, at the beach, or just in the woods, the peace and quiet is just what you need to stay sane.

My South is competitive. From t-ball to the Major League, and Pop-Warner to the NFL, everything is about winning. Time stops on game days, plans are made around your team’s schedule, and some of your major decisions may be based on how that team did.

My South knows how to cook. After you shoot or catch it, it either gets fried or put in gravy (and sometimes both!). We have perfected the art of homemade ice cream, and we know who grows what best.

And sweet tea, honey does My South love some sweet tea! Actually, we don’t even have to ask for the ‘sweet’ or ‘iced’ anymore, you should know.

In My South, we all know what “goin’ to town” means . . . and you plan your week accordingly.

My South is home to some long, curvy dirt roads, the church I will get married in, and the place I will be buried. My name is L.J., and this is MY SOUTH.





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