Category: Essays

SLS: I was born in Arkansas, and I'll probably die there too. These days, I teach at an Arkansas university, in a small town on the edge of the Ozarks. Some day, I'll move for good to Newton County, still as deep as the backwoods get, and revert to a life governed by seasons instead of clocks.

Southern Legitimacy Statement Both my parents hail from the South. When they married, my mother's family called it a "mixed" marriage because she was from Alabama, and he was a Texan. Almost a different country, as far as they were concerned. I was born in the middle of a blizzard in Fairbanks, Alaska, the daughter of a father who was in the Army Air Corps. Alaska was then just a territory, but by virtue of my parents being southerners, and military people, I was born a Southerner. A misplaced Southerner, but a bona fide one. When my grandfather died on his farm in Alabama, we moved to the farm to help grandmother, who wanted to keep to her farming ways. It was there I learned how to make grits, how to hitch up a mule, how to pick cotton and dig potatoes. I was never very good at milking the cows, so my morning chore was gathering the eggs--and I was afraid of the pecking hens, but too afraid of my father's wrath, NOT to do this. We had an outhouse until my father built a real, in-house bathroom, and my momma got to have the first flushing rights. I learned from an uncle how to find the stars, from an aunt how to make perfect sweet tea, from my grandmother how to "put up" canned fruits and vegetables, and from my momma how to use plants and trees for medicine. My great-uncle offered to teach us kids how to make homemade wine, but this never happened. And from my father and brother, I learned how to play chess, hunt and fish. I guess that all makes me Southern, and I feel real pity for people who don't understand anything I've written here.

SLS: a half-Ukrainian redneck poet, backwoods feminist, farm hand, adjunct instructor of English-- basically a Jill-of-all-trades-mistress-to-none hailing from Mathias, WV.

Southern Legitimacy Statement Honeysuckles, Chopped Pork BBQ and Muscadine Wine I remember walking from my grand mama’s house with my brother. We’d walkthrough the lane that was in truth a two way, one way street. I mean the signs said one way but cars went both ways and nobody seemed to mind because everybody in Starkville, Mississippi knew that the one way was a two way. The lane contained the most magical delights almost year round. There were pecan trees, peach trees, pear trees, and a long row of sugary sweet honeysuckle vines; and that was just on one side of the road. We never seemed to mind it was all on somebody else’s property. I am sure they didn’t mind sharing with all the kids who walked that lane. My Uncle Johnny barbequed pork almost year round, no matter the season, in every type of weather. He cooked whole hogs for other folk’s barbeques and party’s. He owned a little farm, with a cinder block smoke pit in the rear. He would slow cook the hogs for long hours then once the meat cooled he would chop it up, adding grand mamma’s secret vinegar and tomato based spicy sauce. The kids made sure to hang around near enough to be unofficial, official tasters. As much as we tasted it was a wonder there was enough hog left to serve at the party. That chopped barbeque served on white bread with homemade potato salad and collard greens was always a show stopper. Add a little sweet tea, or an ice cold Budweiser, and you were in it to win it!

Southern Legitimacy Statement (*as if this essay needs one, the title is the SLS, don't you think?) Although my son and I didn’t get to shoot any squirrel, the lesson, the bonding, nor the experience was lost on my little boy and me. Plus, there's the bonus of its being a rather traditional Southern/rural outing.

The Southern Legitimacy Statement of Glenda C. Beall. Having grown up on a farm in south Georgia, I learned to drive a tractor when I was six. At fourteen, I passed my daddy’s driving test, when I conquered the red mud-rutted road to our house. My favorite toys were Daddy’s Bull Durham bags and empty matchboxes. I grew up on sweet iced tea, fresh yard eggs, grits, homemade biscuits and Mayhaw jelly. My home is still in the south, but in the mountains now. And folks here sell yard eggs, put up vegetables in the summer, and help out their neighbors when they can. I can’t imagine living anywhere else.

Southern Legitimacy Statement: Being Southerner is a frame of mind. A view of the world, neighbors, friends and family filtered through words, thoughts, and deeds of the people that have raised you. I was fortunate to have grandparents that lived a Southern life in Arkansas where I have lived off and on since 1948. Grandpa taught me how to plow a field with a team of mules, what leaves and herbs to gather from the woods and fields to make healing poultices and teas. Grandma taught that hands were for gentle touches, caring for those you love, and cooking the best pan of biscuits any human has ever eaten. There is a lot more but when I think back over 68 years my memories are of those simple things that have shaped my life and given me the values of a Southern man. What a great way to live.

Southern Legitimacy Statement: I’ve spent, summer afternoons plucking honeysuckle blossoms and sucking the sugary sweet nectar from them. I’ve gnawed Louisiana sugar cane until the last drop of sugar ran down my chin. I’ve patiently licked all of the honey out of a honeycomb, and chewed the wax like gum for hours. I’ve eaten ginger bread with lemon sauce. I’ve eaten Pralines, beignets, home made hand cranked ice cream, bread pudding, rice pudding, lemon pie, key lime pie, pineapple upside down cake, pecan pie, watermelons by the ton, cantaloupe, persimmons, figs, strawberries, Muscatine’s, fresh picked Georgia peaches and Florida oranges. . . all before 1953 when I was 10 years old. (...more within the essay)

Southern Legitimacy Statement: I love Elvis Presley, Johnny Horton, Moon Pies, and RC Cola, not necessarily in that order

Southern Legitimacy Statement: Southern? Absolutely, born and bred.

Southern Legitimacy Statement: It's been almost a quarter of a century that I have lived in the south. I am an almost legitimate, 100-percent, bona fide, honest to goodness, dixie chick. Sure as a cat's got climbing gear, I am as country as a churn. These hills 'n hollers, this red clay, is my neck of the woods, my stompin' grounds, my. . .Ok, so I'm trying too hard. I've still got a few months left to get the Yankee out of me, ok?