Category: Poetry

I was born and raised in and around Mobile, AL mostly but have lived all over the heart of dixie, even way up north in Anniston, Alabama. My first memories are of Tuscaloosa back when my parents were going to school and the Bear was coaching. I went to high school in the Gator country of Satsuma where it's not unheard of to see the those massive, prehistoric reptiles crawling in your backyard. I went to college at Troy before finishing up at South Alabama located in my hometown. Now, I teach English down at the very bottom of the state in Bayou La Batre where the students come to class fresh off the shrimp boats wearing their white Bayou Reeboks.

Southern Legitimacy Statement: Mark Vogel has lived in the back of a Blue Ridge holler for the past twenty two years with ducks, cats, dogs, horses, and his family. He teaches English at Appalachian State University.

SLS: I used to joke that if you looked in the dictionary under Appalachian, you would find my picture. My father was a coal miner, one of the most recognizable Appalachian occupations, for more than 35 years before lung cancer claimed him. My mother worked in a textile factory, yet another typical Appalachian occupation, until her hands gave out and she was forced to retire. I am a combination of the veins of coal and the threads of cloth that hold Appalachia together, but my parents demanded something different for me and from me. I now teach English, I write poetry and fiction, I travel as often as I can, and I am Appalachian through and through. I might not be the first image that comes to mind of an Appalachian man, but I definitely am Appalachian. I take some pride in that, and, if truth be told, in surprising people too.

True, I was born in California and grew up in Florida, which is such a melting pot that it’s not really the south—not unless you’re in Clewiston or Macclenny or Bithlo or someplace like that-- but I'm still a southern girl. I say “Bless her heart” after I say something unflattering about someone (I won’t admit to gossip), and that’s about as southern as you can get. My legitimacy honorable mentions: I had a Mawmaw and Pawpaw, I used to say “anyways,” and I still say “yall.”

Southern Legitimacy Statement: My parents are native Californians who moved to Tennessee before I was born. I married a Pennsylvanian. I can’t abide sweet tea, sweet desserts, egg salad, or chitlins. I never developed much of an accent, apart from “y’all” (with an apostrophe). The fervor of Civil War re-enactors and NASCAR fans has always puzzled me. Nevertheless. Tennessee, Alabama, Kentucky, Georgia: I have lived here all my life, and I am as much Southern as I am anything else. The South, for me, is a James Agee summer night: lightning bugs in a jar, invisible chirping crickets, everything familiar and settled, the world at relative, temporary peace. But the South is also a state of mind, a sort of vigilance, a waiting—and a fecund, green place where the strangeness and play of poems is made possible.

Southern Legitimacy Statement: Raised and fed by a Southern lady from Chattanooga, who taught me good eating and good manners. When I die and go to heaven, I’m praying the heavenly banquet will include: Fried Livermush Pintos (with pork in them) Green beans (with pork in them) Collards (with pork in them) Corn bread (with pork cracklins in it) If there is no livermush or pigs in heaven, then–if I have my ‘druthers–I reckon I’ll have to stay right here in North Carolina.

Southern Legitimacy Statement: 1] My ancestors helped settle Charleston, South Carolina. The cemeteries are filled with them. 2] Several of them are named Zorababel. That's a first name. If you were male, why then, it became Zorobabel. 3] During the Civil War my family fought for the South [one half of us -- the other half are damned Yankees]. 4] My husband's wedding present to me was a pistol. Forty years later, I still have it and we are still married. 5] My husband and I appear to share a few ancestors. I am much more excited about this than he. 6] We live on Peachtree Road, Atlanta, Georgia. Do I even need the first five?

Southern Legitimacy Statement: I was once instructed on the proper division of north from south: All citizens who live below Highway #10 are Southerners; all citizens who live above Highway #10 are Yankees; all citizens who live above the Mason-Dixon line are damn Yankees. I once lived in New York.

Southern Legitimacy Statement: I was born in Birmingham, Alabama and even though my family migrated in the forties looking for work, I remain a Southerner in manners and diplomacy. I am not sure but I think that this is a Southern Statement.

I hereby certify I am a Yankee. Put down your guns. Having visited your website, I've come to the conclusion that once you figure out i'm not related to William Faulkner, you may still read what I have wrote written. By way of introduction, this is a preamble, a necessary and unfortunate assembly of words before The 'Southern Legitimacy Statement,' which is forthcoming. 'Southern Legitimacy Statement' by Paul Smith Part 1 of the First Part 'I deplore the degradation of Gatlinburg, Tennessee into the tourist nightmare it has become because I remember when it was young and somewhat pure, and although I don't remember the actual event itself, I may have been conceived there, since mom and dad liked it and came there a lot (please don't snicker at any unintended double-meanings. Part 2 of the First Part ' I know why there are so many Ogles in Gatlinburg. They are not descendants of James Oglethorpe. They are descendants of King Og, who was some kind of King in England. I realize Wikipedia says something else, but this was told to me by one of the Ogles, possibly Kates, who let me ride his horse. Part 3 of the First Fart - 'I have been to Dollyville in Pigeon Forge and have eaten pancakes in one of the 26 'All You Can Eat' pancake houses between Gatlinburg & Pigeon Forge.'

Southern Legitimacy Statement: It's been said that my daddy's family is so southern that no one in it from the time brothers Chance, Gardner, and Claude set foot in the Carolinas in 1642 had ever lived north of the Mason-Dixon line until my first cousin moved to Michigan in 1997. That was a travesty in our family worthy of comment from our Uncle Claude, the man who could engage in an hour long conversation without uttering more than five words. He was almost as concerned with her move as he was in finding mamaw's peach cobbler recipe after she passed away that should have been among the good nighties stored away unopened for that inevitable trip to the hospital. I guess that makes us southern but if not, there's an entire county in Alabama that our children have been warned about finding a mate in, as we are related to the entire county in some form. That's probably an exaggeration but there were 1600 people at the last family reunion we attended all descended from one couple and most people came from less than an hour away. The table of "greens" was actually nine tables long and I'm pretty sure my dad ate some from each and every pot.