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The "Yankee or DixieTest" says I'm 90% Dixie, then asks "Is General Lee your father?" Oh, my stars! This is what comes of having an Oregano for a dad and a true Washingtonian mom (born and raised in the District, went to Anacostia HS; Grandpa was a DC cop with a Capitol Hill beat). Both of my mom's parents were from a teeny town in Georgia called Hull, and my mom was surrounded by her Georgian aunts and uncles, both grandmas, and numerous Ga. cousins all her life. A good girl-talk confab between my mom, my grandma, and me used to be near-unintelligible to Yankees. My dad claimed we used our "secret language" to confound him. I still go all Southern when I cuss. My grandma was so anti-Yankee that she once gave me a lickin' for calling my brother "Sherman," after Mr. Peabody the smart-ass dog on Rocky & Bullwinkle. I didn't understand until I'd seen "Gone With the Wind." Ooohhhh. Sherman. Riiiight. You go, Grandma! Oddly enough, Grandma was pro-integration, lived in a mixed neighborhood, and had friends of all colors, national backgrounds, and religious persuasions. She was descended from poor sharecroppers, though, not plantation folk. We're rumored to have a mulatto female ancestor somewhere in the mix. Her people were hard-working, firecely independent, and resourceful. I guess I'm pretty Southern at heart. Must be why I married a Mississippi-bred Scotsman...who thinks he's a samurai. |
 
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Dixie Chickee