A Southern twang: A form of identification and pride

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Although the United States is home to many distinct dialects, the one most easily recognized is the slow, sometimes twangy, and almost always loquacious drawl of a Southerner.

WYTHE COUNTY, Va. February 3, 2012 – Regardless of your opinion of my windy prose, one thing should be evident—southerners love few things as much as the sound of their own voice.   

Although the United States is home to many distinct dialects, the one recognized the quickest is the slow, sometimes twangy, and almost always loquacious drawl of a Southerner. Along with the recognition often comes a well-meant reference to some part of the southern way of life.

Like any true southerner, I identify first with my southern roots, and then my American ones. Apparently I can somehow convince myself the Civil War is still relevant and a template for all things.

However, the Southern way of life carries more meaning for me than the cause of states’ rights ever did. The accent is just one major difference amongst many. I’m referring to fundamental differences in the way we approach life.

For instance, given the assignment of describing a shared identical experience, southerners will use too many words and northerners will use too few. A gentle euphemism would be “Romantic” while a more organic description might be “ardent.”

No doubt the former being the Southerners’ adjective of choice and the latter the Northerners.’ The southern dialect is more colorful and unique compared to the northern one.

Another scenario: A northerner and a southerner sitting on the porch watch a car drive slowly by. For the sake of accuracy, the northerner would probably be impatient and fidgety, if sitting at all. A northerner’s only question would be why the car was going so slow, while a southerner would wonder why they did or didn’t wave, followed by a lengthy discussion on their assets or flaws, and inevitably linked to their much discussed and dissected family tree.

Southerners and most especially southern hillbillies are often isolated enough to remove themselves from access to entertainment. Homemade instruments and homespun tales were for the most part all they had for their amusement. When the seasons dictated dormancy the hours were filled with storytelling and music.

Music and stories require language dexterity. They are made easy by the southerner’s love of articulation. One of the best examples of this can be found in the film “Steel Magnolias.” It’s a tad overdone but it is after all, a drama made in Hollywood. Dilute it about twenty percent and you’ll have the real McCoy.

                                         
I’ve saved the most blatant difference for last. I wonder how few can guess it but how many will know it to be true the second they read it. In the south, no matter the occasion, whether it’s a wedding, a funeral, or a reunion, the single most important thing discussed first, and discussed thoroughly, is food. The who, what, and how to match the right food for the right occasion is well planned and one hundred percent covered before any other logistics are broached.

In the north however, food seems to be little more than an afterthought, in my opinion. If a southerner expects dinner guests, the planning begins long before the day and time of the scheduled dinner. In the north, so many times I’ve seen dinnertime come and go until someone finally remembers it’s time to eat and calls for a pizza delivery. I have experience in this, trust me.


No doubt the continuity of the status quo, with the effort it requires, rests on the backs of the workers in the sprawling urban centers of the north and west. Their tireless pursuit may keep the planet spinning, but it is the south that takes time out to show us how to enjoy the ride. It’s the south that welcomes our aging bones and makes us feel comfortable.

 

The south has held tenaciously to those things we’ve always held dear and those things that undeniably distinguish us from the rest of the country. A western way of life, a northern way of life....both are unfamiliar phrases to most, but a southern way of life will always be a familiar concept no matter where in the world it’s mentioned.

 



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Lisa King

I was born and educated in Southwest Virginia, traveled with my job all over America in my twenties and early thirties then came back to the mountains to raise my daughter.

I’ve been employed as everything from a quality control technician in industrial construction, to a mail processing plant manager, to postmaster of a small town. I’ve been to forty nine of the fifty states, as well as many other countries. Traveling will always be a passion I indulge, and something I’ll call upon often in my writing. 

I come from a long line of story tellers, and will shamelessly exploit a family tree resplendent with colorful and unique characters, both past and present.

In short my perspective will reflect the pride and familiarity I have of my Appalachian heritage. My stories will be a reflection of the values I believe we hold dearest here, all embellished with a healthy dose of Southern Appalachian flare.

 

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