Southern traditions
The South is credited with having many traditions. I don’t know if all the traditions are unique to the South. Many are. I do know with each new generation; traditions are slowly becoming extinct.
There was a day when every driver on the road would pull to the side and stop when meeting a funeral procession. Some still do. Some don’t. There are a few drivers who act as if the procession is interrupting their day. They just keep on driving. Sometimes, drivers will even try to pass the line of cars. I saw this while riding in a funeral procession this week. If you believe your time is so important you can’t pull over for a minute as a show of respect for somebody’s mama or daddy, you still need some raising.
When I attended the FBI National Academy in 2005, I made friends from all over the world. But it was my northern friends who made fun of me for using the words, please, thank-you, ma’am, and sir in every situation. These words weren’t an option when I was growing up. Failing to do so would have ended badly. Before my three months at the academy was over, even my Yankee friends were using those words, if only to mock me. I will be using those four words until the day I die. Social pressure won’t change that.
Home remedies were an important part of our culture. My Grandma Free would treat bee stings with the moist snuff which came right out of her mouth. As nasty as that is, it worked every time. It drew the poison out and stopped the pain. There are other home remedies I’m less familiar with but heard a lot about. I heard of folks who could get rid of warts. I heard of others who could talk the fire out of a burn. We don’t hear much about that stuff anymore. That isn’t surprising with the medical help we have available today.
Apparently, the food we eat on New Year’s Day is important to the success or failure the year will bring. Greens and black-eyed peas are common foods people eat to begin the new year. They are supposed to bring us luck. I don’t know if there is any science behind this, but it seems to work. I’m still here. And you are too if you’re reading this.
If you’ve never made a complete meal out of soup beans, corn bread, and Vidalia onion, it’s doubtful you’re from around here. The same can be said if you’ve never had a tomato sandwich from a tomato just picked from the garden. Put the slices on white bread and add mayonnaise, salt, and pepper. Either one of these meals has been supper for many Southerners. My Daddy had a liking of butter milk, chicken livers, and sardines out of the can. All three make me want to puke. Each to their own.
There was a time when someone died, families would have visitations for at least two nights before the funeral. Some families stayed all night with the deceased. This was called, “Settin up with the dead.” Friends would automatically cook meals to take to the family. They would put their names on bottom of the Tupperware container to ensure they got it back. Seldom was anyone cremated. It just isn’t how we do things. Covid and the economy have greatly impacted these practices.
My grandparents were big coffee drinkers. Me, not so much. There was always a saucer under their coffee cup. Somehow, they would end up drinking coffee out of the saucer. If there were biscuits on hand, they would dip the biscuit in the coffee before taking a bite. We called them ‘Soaky biscuits.” I suspect I’m not the only one who has heard of this.
There was also a tradition such as this one. White was not to be worn before Easter or after Labor Day. I have no idea where this originated and don’t care enough to research it. As a matter of fact, I’ve never done research for a column. Nevertheless, many still follow this dress code.
Make no mistake. In no way am I making fun of any of the things I’ve written about. The folks that participate and believe in these things are my people. People I love and respect. I say this with absolutely no regret or apology. I was Southern born and Southern bred. And when it comes my time to die, I reckon I’ll be Southern dead.
The South is where I come from. I’ve heard words like backwoods, redneck, and ignorant used to describe the South. When I think of the South, one word comes to mind. Home. And my friends, warts, and all, there ain’t no place like home. Can I get an Amen?