Lamp's in the window, burnin' bright...

The American South -- particularly Louisiana, Mississippi and Alabama -- were hit hard by Hurricane Katrina. But the American South has also responded to the tragedy with strength and generosity as well, opening cities and homes to those displaced in Katrina's wake. So this week's Weekend Assignment travels below the Mason-Dixon line for its topic:

Weekend Assignment #76: Tell us something you love about or from the American South. From sweet tea to Lynyrd Skynyrd, William Faulkner to the French Quarter, whatever makes you heart long for southern skies belongs right here.

   Lynyrd Skynyrd, The Allman Brothers band, The Charlie Daniels band and Hank Williams Jr. have long been the only country music I can tolerate. There's probably a few more- every now and then, I "discover" that some old song I like is considered "Southern Rock," like Tom Petty or Joe Walsh.

   I'm French, and I often fail to pick up on regional dialects. For instance, The Grateful Dead and Neil Young sound like southern bands to me, and Limp Bizkit and REM don't. Dinosaur Jr, who are from nearby Amherst, sound Southern to me.

   I just got in trouble on a message board for impersonating /lampooning a Southern dialect: "Lawdy, I be uplifted since Kobe Bryant done visited my ruined bungalow." Sounded southern to me... sounded over-the-top black to the other 280 million Americans. My bad.

   Regardless, I'm not here to talk music. We have bigger fish to fry. Basically, I have a town in Louisiana that needs chainsaws, non-perishable food, and blankets. They could also use a bulldozer or 4, and someone to drive them.

   I'll give a shot out to a distinct Southerner, and try to tie it into both sports AND relief aid to Covington. I really haven't figured out how, yet... I'm sort of counting on God (or whoever is truly in charge) to sort of take my fingers over once I commit myself to rambling a bit.

   I've been South a  lot. My family used to own something in South Carolina, and I did a school vacation or two there. I've been to Disneyland/world... whichever one is in Florida. I went in August, which I wouldn't recommend. My time at Epcot was spent like this: Coca-Cola exhibit on the history of cold drinks(which was kept at 32 degrees), the Viking ride, back through the sweltering heat to the Coke exhibit, then the Indian ride, then the Coke exhibit, then the gift shop, then the coke exhibit, then I said the hell with it, and we went off to the bar.

   Personally, I don't know how Southerners take that heat. I asked a Houston IHOP employee how she does it. She replied, "How do you handle the earth being covered by a 3 foot blanket of frozen water for 6 months of 25 degree weather?" I didn't have the heart to tell her that 25 degrees was a warm day in February where I'm from.

   That's why I love America. The cold people in Europe can't relate to the warm people, and vice versa. You know how the French get all snobby on Americans? We do it to everyone else, too: illiterate Russians, boorish Englishmen, crude Italians, the detestable Boche....

   Ever hear of Andorra? Not only have I heard of it, I have a bad opinion of it- even though I have never been there or met anyone from there.... but I've heard "backward mountain peasants" used by family members to describe them.

   In America, the South has a warm beach in February for the pale, frozen Yankee, and there are plenty of people saying "Y'all's s'posed to ride these har skee thangs down yonder cliff?" at Killington. Our collective favorite musical is about a Kansas girl, and it was made in California. We're all in it together.

   Also, whatever my faults are.... an immigrant French Bostonian is the only non-Mississippi type who is able to pronounce "Brett Favre" not only correctly, but instinctively. It's sort of like "five," meets "carve" with a silent R....but not really.

*** I'd love to find out the name of the PoPo from Pastor Sprague's Texas story that I try to wedge into every post I make here. For the arrivistes, the pastor told me a cute story about a guy- who had just lost EVERYTHING, and didn't have a penny to his name- who got popped by a Texas Ranger while doing 75 in a 40, or whatever.

   Some things are too much for even a storm victim to take, and the guy started sobbing in front of the Bear. He had no $$$, nowhere to go, and nowhere to return to. The cop- who probably has his own family to worry about- put the ticket book away, took out his own wallet, and gave all his money to  this poor refugee.

   This will be urban legend in a month or two, and I'd like to be able to trace it to the particular officer- who I have no doubt would not allow his name to be used.

   If anyone can get me the name of that Texas Ranger, they'd share a spot with him in the HAC Ring Of Honor. If someone deserves to have his name Googled in the future only to see "You Kickass MFer, we love you!" written next to it, it's this guy.

   This is no pro Law and Order speech, either. I'm a lot like that big brother in the Emilio garbageman movie... "I ain't got nothin' against cops... I just like it better when they aren't around."

 

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