I was born outside of the Civil War Zone....in Indian Territory. Part of my family came from Bleeding Kansas. They were targets for both sides. I read family hand-me-downs on what happened and it simply wasn't good. Nightmare material. BUT....I was raised in the South....although some would consider Texas another country altogether. I moved out of the South for a season and lived in Colorado....definitely NOT steeped in sweet tea and pleasantries. The women born and raised there seemed to be dried up, not soft and womanly. Their skin dehydrated and thin...mine was wrinkle-free and smooth. The men would let a door slam in your face....no....they'd mow you down trying to get in the doorway first. When I asked how come running red lights was more the norm than not, the answer I got startled....was a matter of pride. Pride? Really? I felt stripped of my feminity...surrounded by bullies.
We're back in the South now and I find myself blushing. Big...and I mean big....men stop and wait at doorways to open them for me. And nope...not talkin' Sunday School sissies. These are co-workers....highly intelligent men....crusty engineers.....big-boned country boys. First time it happened I turned beet red and there were no words coming out of my mouth to save my life....the words came from my heart. "Thank You Sir". Even when there's stress up at the plant their eyes twinkle. Rascals..gentlemen. Raised by women who wanted the best for their sons...wanted them to feel like men...wanted the women around them to feel safe, feminine...respected for what they contribute to society. Respected for the power of a fluttered eyelash or soft, kind word spoken. Raised by fathers who understand they'll be accountable to God someday for what they do down here....including how they treat women. My boss said this past week an "Oh Daddy" pulls at his heart and his daughters pretty much get what they want....they are valuable and what they want is important to him.
There are some things I don't care for....really don't want to see you riding your mower all sweaty with your shirt off....kinda unappetizing. Not so sure I appreciate the tobacco fields and if you shoot my dog instead of a turkey, we're going to have words. However, being treated like a lady seems to soften all those things like the fog in the morning over the hills and fields...all's forgiven.
Southern Gentlemen....raised to be heroes and gentlemen. Southern Women...treated like the treasure and gift God gave Adam. It's good to be back.
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