MY COUNTRY 'TIS OF THEE, SWEET LAND OF LIBERTY!

My childhood took place in the Post-WWII, patriotic fervor that saturated most levels of my experiences.  Whether it was in school, where music, history, and even handwriting exercises centered on patriotic themes, or in the rest of my world, where political and philosophical questions had not found their way in yet, my heart swelled and tears formed in my eyes at the sight or mention of flag and country. In spite of all that has transpired since, I must say those same reactions are still close to the surface for me, especially on the Fourth of July.  I cannot ever take the fortuitous circumstances of my birth in such a place and time for granted.  Thinking of it always makes me feel humble and grateful.

One of the things I have always marveled at in this country, is the diversity of culture and lifestyles.  I am especially aware of some differences,when we spend time in Georgia.  Some self-disclosure here....I must confess to certain regional pride and prejudices,,,,,, you know, like speech patterns indicating a particular level of intelligence, neat manicured lawns being an indication of work ethics, and minding your own business being a reflection of character!  Whew! Self-disclosure is not a pretty thing, sometimes.  Luckily, I have learned in the past five years that those beliefs are just what they appear to be... stereotypes.  I have learned that people with drawls can be highly educated and culturally aware, that most of the people I've met in the South have worked extremely hard most of their lives, and that warmth and helpfulness can be real.

Recently, Russ spent several weeks in Georgia, using some of the time there to run an ongoing yard sale of items no longer needed.  People often stop along the country roads such as the house is on,when things are sitting out,as if to be sold, so a yard sale attracts a certain amount of traffic without much publicity.  There are certain social aspects to the transactions that take place, along with bartering and possible trading.  In chatting with one potential customer, Russ discovered a near-neighbor whose wife remembered Russ the first time he came to Georgia in the 1950's to ask for Hilda's hand in marriage.  During their conversation, Herbert, Russ's new acquaintance, found out from Russ that he was planning on converting the front bumper of his truck with a hitch to hook up to the motor home.  Russ asked for some advice about where to have the job done.  Herbert declared that he knew how to do that, he had the proper tools, and he would be back the next morning to help with the job.

Sure enough, the next morning, there was Herbert. (Russ said it was before he had gotten out of bed).  Along with the tools, he had brought several jars of homemade jam and tomatoes grown in his garden.  They completed the task that day, amid Russ's ongoing sale.  The next day, Herbert stopped again, just to chat a moment and discovered that Russ was working in the basement attempting to saw a trench in the basement floor in order to install a sump pump.  Russ was discouraged because his saw blade had gotten chewed up pretty quickly.  Not to worry, Herbert had a diamond bladed saw for just such jobs, and Russ was welcome to come and borrow it.  Not only did Russ use his saw, but Herbert came to use a water hose device while Russ sawed to keep the dust down.  When we returned Herbert's saw the day we left, we rode up a twisting, rutted, red clay road to a little house with several interesting other little buildings.  There was a huge, beautifully laid out garden and about twenty or so beehives.  I met his wife, as well, a small, shy woman.  Before we left, Herbert went to the garden and brought us back five large, juicy tomatoes to take home with us.

Russ appears to take these things in stride.  There is a neighbor, Eddie, across the road, who is in his forties and is a mechanically astute, race car enthusiast.  Eddie has given Russ all kinds of help with his cars, trucks, and motor home.  If it is mechanical, Eddie is interested and wants to help.  He and his fifteen year old son take turns mowing Russ's yard when he is away.  Both refuse to take any money for anything they do.  Eddie's wife is very welcoming and friendly in her home, but not nosy in anyway.

Then there was the "BlueBerry Lady", as Russ and I dubbed her.  Before I got to Georgia, Russ's son, daughter, and grandson had taken him out to eat for his birthday.  While they were having dinner, they were discussing blueberries.  A lady seated at a nearby table overheard the conversation and leaned over to say that she and her husband grew blueberries.  After some discussion, it was decided that Russ would come and get some blueberries from her. They discovered that Peggy's (BBL) mother lived on the same road as Russ's house, (and perhaps, Russ might be interested in dating her mother!?!!?).  Russ had been offering Peggy some art supplies of Hilda's since Peggy is interested in art.  I think there was a little confusion there when Russ said his wife had passed away (the art supply wife, not this one!).  Of course, I gave Russ a hard time over this and declared he could not go to the BBL's house alone. 

The day we left, we stopped by her place, a modest brick ranch, built on a winding road, not far from town.  Peggy met us at the door, a little startled, I think, when Russ introduced me as his wife.  She was instantly warm and friendly, though.  We were invited into her home and given a tour.  Her home was decorated with interesting collectibles and felt comfortable and inviting.  It wasn't long before she was showing us her art work and discussing a fable about mermaids she was putting together with some of her artwork for a birthday celebration honoringa group of ladies she was friends with.  We learned alot about Peggy, talking with her that short time.  When we went to the garage, where the berries were picked and waiting for us in two gallon-sized ziploc bags in the freezer, she also wanted to give us a package of frozen stripper bass fillets.  Peggy refused to let us pay for either the berries or the fish.  She said, "Oh, we never really end up selling the berries.  We figure if we did, we would stop having so many!"  Russ was able to give her the art supplies, though she seemed reluctant to take them, almost as if it might spoil the enjoyment she seem to have in giving.

I love driving down Midwestern streets with their neat houses and manicured lawns.  I love quick, crisp, sarcastic speech.  I love it when my neighbors ignore me as I putt around in my yard. And, my heart is expanded by the warmth, the helpfulness, and the generosity of people who seem to be part of what makes the South. 

America, The Beautiful, from Sea to shining Sea.