This page is yours! What do you love about the South? Do you have a favorite recipe, joke, or quote? Maybe there's something special about the South that you'd like to see spotlighted. Email tomtom@allthingssouthern.com with your ideas. I'll choose a few each week to share in my FREE weekly emag AllThingsSouthern. You can subscribe to AllThingsSouthern here.
*******************************
Volume I Issue II
Where are y'all? This is your space! Want to say something about this great region? Have a good joke or recipe to share? Read a good book by a Southern author lately? Let me hear from you. Thanks for your emails last week! I got a ton but they were all of the "you go girl" and "congragulations" variety. I appreciate those for sure, but I also want to know what you love about the South! Maybe the media portrays the South in a way you think is insulting and you'd like a place to vent. Well, sound off folks; tomtom@allthingssouthern.com --I'm listening.
*******************************
Volume I Issue III
The following mail comes in from Jeffrey in North Carolina. He is referring to the problems we had been discussing the
day before America was attacked.
"I hope all went well today with Phillips knee. After todays events, bummed knees, migrains and OCD sort of pale in comparison with the severity of lost lives...God help us all."
******************************
Volume I Issue IV
From famine to feast... Last week I complained that you weren't writing in and this week my email cup runneth over. I couldn't decide between giving this week's spotlight to a transplanted Southerner writing in from Missouri, or following up on the Canadian article I sent you all last week. And then I remembered, "Hey, I'm the boss"! So, I'm including both.
~Transplanted Southerner~
This piece is from a weekly column Barbara Madden writes for her hometown paper, the "Willow Springs Community and
Business News".
In the past few months, my family has lived through a lot of changes and the resulting displacement of our collective comfort zones. A new job, new address, new friends, and everything that goes with it, which includes the inevitable new doctors.
When our son reinjured his knee during a Willow Springs scrimmage, Dr. Shaw, the team physician, was standing on the sidelines. After an MRI and a consultation, he recommended we make an appointment with a specialist in Springfield. I could feel my comfort zone getting smaller and smaller.
Dr. Robert Shaw has practiced medicine in Willow Springs
for years and is known and loved by many, but we knew very little about Dr. Pierre Clothiaux when we arrived in Springfield for that first appointment. My husband accompanied our son for this visit and returned home with high praises for this doctor. He sensed my apprehension and assured me everything would be fine. "Besides", he said, "He's a Southern boy from Alabama."
Though I was duly impressed, it really did not matter
so much that Dr. Clothiaux had arrived in Springfield via the Mayo Clinic and Harvard. He was a Southerner.
It is difficult to explain why I found comfort in that fact, except to say that it just felt good to have a commonality with the person into whose hands we were going to place the very life of our son.
I liken it to not knowing the words to a song and then getting to the familiar chorus and being able to sing your heart out. It just feels good. My comfort zone was growing.
The surgery went well, though it was more complicated than first expected. Approximately two dozen bone chips were removed from the area and his kneecap was realigned. We were amazed that he had been able to stand, let alone walk and play sports since the initial injury some two summers ago. The word the surgeon used
was "remarkable".
Dr. Pierre Clothiaux further endeared himself to our family by taking the time to talk to us immediately following surgery and later in the recovery room. After discussing the details of the surgery we spoke of "Southern" things--purple hull peas, watermelons, cathead biscuits, and roadside stands where you can buy the best boiled peanuts in the world. We discussed our dismay at
not being able to find grits in most local grocery stores and how we dare not return from a pilgrimage to our homeland without a sustaining supply of "Southern manna".
Three days later, we returned to Springfield for the follow-up exam. Our son has a long row to hoe with rehabilitation, but I find immense comfort in knowing that he is in the care of two excellent doctors, the one in Springfield that loves grits and the one in Willow
Springs that ought to.
©Copyright Barbara Madden 2001
******************************
~More on Gordon Sinclair~
Last week after I impulsively sent out the article on Gordon Sinclair, I got an interesting email from Ray, a reader who calls himself a New Yorker by birth and habit. Tons of letters followed on the same subject, prompting me to return to this hot topic, beginning with Ray's
original email:
"As you may have surmized from the reference in the Sinclair piece to the American draft dodgers, this is from an old broadcast (the 70s and during the Viet Nam War) and has appeared periodically whenever America has suffered man-made and natural disasters, Nonetheless, your suggestion that it be more widely disseminated - and especially in the schools - is well taken. America has given the world
much in the past and generally its reward has been abuse, ridicule, and scorn. Not a fitting return for the investment"...Ray
Followed on the heels of this email was a polar opposite response from my friend, Jason, who happens to be an Englishman.
In short, it was offensive to him to hear Mr. Sinclair implying that no other nations cared, when our President had just been on the air listing the nations that were
offering aid. Of course, at the time, neither Jason nor I knew the article was a rerun. But, I learned something from my English friend. I had reacted to the flag-waving patriotism Mr. Sinclair's article stirred in my gut. And I'm not ashamed of that. And yet, Jason's sincerity brought something home to me. Although many of my fellow Americans were born in other countries, their love for this great land can run as deep as ours! One of Jason's remarks stays with me. "I'm upset too. I'm
going to be passing out blue ribbons Saturday. But, the last thing I think we need to do right now is insult the people that want to help." You said it, Jason. Thanks~
To wrap it all up: I appreciate all the feedback, and I still appreciate the late Gordon Sinclair. One more note on the subject? Peggy Duncan from Monroe, La. sends the following website address on Mr. Sinclair. It's more
of an autobiograpy. You might enjoy it.
*******************************
Volume I Issue V
Pamela Marie Greenway writes in...
"I have very special memories of happier times in the south. As a youngster, we would often go visit a grandma in Milan, tennessee. But I think my favorite memory of the south is visiting Uncle alton and Aunt Ruth in Pioneer, La. I often recall those hot, humid southern
nights sitting out in the front yard of the old house. I loved walking through the crops with Alton Junior. After work was done, we all would sit down together for Aunt Ruth's Southern fried chicken. My dad moved us away from the South many years ago...I often long for the South; my heart will always be there."
*******************************
Volume I Issue VI
This exchange comes from a new subscriber whose letter
last week so touched me that I wanted to pass it along. I feel sure your thoughts, like mine, are never far from the state of affairs in our nation. Though we continue to go on as normal as possible, it seems like America is holding her collective breath. Meridith's letter brings the evening news a little closer to our front doors.
"Even though I'm not from the south, I feel like my heart is. I
live on Long Island in New York....but I've been considering a move further south--before the tragedy, which was 30 miles west of me. I'd been wanting to get away from my home state, the rushing...busyness...crowdedness...crime...noise...pollution. Before this happened I would've added rudeness. Just give me a couple acres, a house with a front porch and a swing in a semi rural area.
I was fortunate not to have lost any one I know...but I see
my neighbor, a city fireman , come home for a few hrs...and then go back to dig...and the look on his face is enough to break your heart. And at night-- hearing the F14s go over twice a night--I know they're there to protect us, but it's really frightening . Plus, now that this has happened...it dawns on all of us here on Long Island...only one way off--thru the city...not to sound self centered but it's scary. There's a million people in each of the two counties here." Meridth from Long Island
Thanks Meridith and God Bless You,
~Shellie
*******************************
Volume I Issue VII
Though it doesn't reflect well on my home state, I offer the following post in the spirit of fair play, believing it's important to show the whole picture, and not just the pretty
snapshots. The following came in response to last week's "good manners" of the south topic.
Dear Shellie,
My wife and I attended our first SEC Football game this past weekend. We were amazed by Neyland Stadium! It is awesome. As the orange crowd made it's way into the stadium,
the only "trash talk" I heard was from the LSU Fans. We were decked in our Orange attire sitting on the front row of the LSU section so needless to say, we were the brunt of lots of jeering. When the game started and LSU scored quickly, I
was drenched by some type of hard alcoholic beverage; I dismissed it as an accident. I've never heard such foul language coming from the so-called LSU Fans. We were ashamed to be from Louisiana.
The ESPN crew had to get a policeman to ride the camera
truck to prevent the LSU Fans from throwing things at the cameraman. I repeatedly asked the "Fans" behind us to watch their mouths because I had a 10 year old standing beside me. I think that made them mad because things just got worse.
When the game was over, we just sat there...the exits were so full we couldn't get out anyway. When the LSU Fans were gone, you should have seen all the whisky bottles and trash they left...
Sincerely,
Pedro and Christina Griffin
(Shellie speaking.) Ouch! That hurt. I bet I hear another side from some Tigers. I hope so. (smile) The next writer doesn't hail from the South, but his wife does. He closes his thoughts with an interesting question.
Dear Shellie,
In England, manners are an essential part of life. My father once told me,
"When you find a girl you really like, there is one sure fire way to impress". ALWAYS mind your P's and Q's (Pleases and thank you's) in front of her parents. Even if you don't have a
great job, and aren't the best dressed or best looking guy, if you're well mannered and polite, your intended one's parents will love you!"
Growing up in the UK I found parents put a high price on manners and judged you accordingly.
The sad thing is, although in social situations the rule is
be polite and mind your manners, it seems to be forgotten out in the streets of London.
I'm lucky to be married to a beautiful southern lass. When I took her to London for the first time she was shocked at the way people pushed past each other, without so much
as an excuse me.
I certainly try to be polite and gracious--but I've noticed children are often more polite than their parents...
Is it that as we get older, and more involved with work, we seem to think we no longer have time to be polite?
Sincerely,
Jason Pierce
(This is Shellie again) The last post on this subject comes from Bill, who took me seriously on the state challenge. Here is his tounge-in-jaw submission for the South's most
gracious state.
My goodness gracious alive, Shellie, honey child--you must know graciousness, courtesy and gentle manners are indeed so very real in the south, not fiction or myth right out of "Gone With the Wind." Although we Southerners may have lost a
dab of our courtesy and gentility when those awful Yankees came down here during the Civil War, ravaging our precious Dixie, we've maintained more than sufficient grace and charm to set us above the other geographical sections of our great
nation. We mustn't brag about this superior heritage and culture though, because so many people didn't have the good fortune of being born and bred below the Mason-Dixie line.
Now, Shellie, you pose an interesting question as to which
state is the most gracious. Without any exaggeration, and speaking with complete, unbiased authority as one who has traveled throughout the South, the garland of roses for the Most Gracious State must go to Tennessee.
In the hills and valleys of east Tennessee we have dirt farmers,
factory workers and teachers. Though they may not make as much money as other folk in Tennessee, they are just as cordial and polite as the owners of large cotton plantations.
Around Knoxville you find unparalled sportsmanship displayed by
University of Tennessee athletic teams--especially football players. You can witness this by watching them pick up an Ole Miss Rebel whom they've just thrown on their derrieres. And the fans--why they're nothing short of courtly. There is never any
animosity between Tennessee fans and opposing teams.
As you move toward Nashville you fnd a slightly different type of Tennesseean. Nashville, as we all know, is the sweet home of country music. If you really want to see hospitality on
display, just attend one performance of the Grand Ole Opry and see how the entertainers love and respect each other.
Our last stop is Memphis, where everyone is welcome to hear, sing and play the original blues music. The Memphians' hospitality
makes sure there is plenty of southern barbecue and blues music for everyone.
Now that I've made my factual case for Tennessee, please permit
one more personal note. I happen to be a senior citizen with a severe visual impairment. Whenever my family and I go out to eat, my six-year-old grandson, Logan, rushes up to me as soon as the car door is opened and sweetly asks, "Papaw Bill, let me guide you
by the hand into the restaurant." If Logan doesn't happen to be with us, my granddaughter Lauren, age nine, takes the same excellent care of me. And now that she reads so beautifully, she enjoys reading me the menu. Now these two young children of the south
truely reflect the good manners, respect and thoughtfulness that characterize true Tennesseeans and Southerners. And while some of this may be the result of breeding; more likely, it is a consequence of parents and teachers stressing this graciousness.
I close, Shellie, with the famous line of the great southern playwright, Tennessee Williams, "So often I've had to depend on the kindness of strangers." I just imagine Mr. Williams was referring to Southerners in general and Tennesseans in particular.
William "Bill" Gross
(Wow! Pretty good, Bill. Is anyone willing to challenge him? I'll give you space for rebuttal next week.~ Shellie)
*******************************
Volume I Issue VIII
Beth enjoyed last week's emag but she just couldn't stand by and watch Tennessee get all the accolades. She sends this poem in tribute to Florida:
"I Must be Home"
If I can...walk on the gulf's emerald shore, sugar-white sand between my toes, feel the balmy breeze, hear the pound of the waves as constant as a heartbeat.
And if I see...tree lined paths of mossy oaks,
branches reaching up and over to form a canopy of green.
And if I can smell...honeysuckle, sweet and fragrant, peach blossoms, magnolia and jasmine.
And if I am...sitting on the porch at night listening to the crickets chirp, the whipporwhill's lonely call, hearing the sounds that are a balm to my soul. Then I must be...ahhh, HOME.
--Beth
*******************************
Volume I Issue IX
I thought this was so good! Would you like to put it in the All Things Southern? I really enjoy your magazine.
June Ivey
"Are You a Pumpkin?"
Being a Christian is kind of like being a pumpkin. God
picks you from the patch, brings you in, and washes all the dirt off you. Then He cuts off the top and scoops out all the yucky stuff, removing the seeds of doubt, hate, greed, etc. Then He carves you a new smiling face and puts His light inside
you to shine for all the world to see."
(Thanks June!)
*******************************
Volume I Issue X
A Louisiana reader sends in the following link. You've got
to see it to believe it.
~Shellie
"Limited Edition Memorial Flag Poster to Benefit the Fallen FireFighters Fund in New York City"Memorial Flag
One of the most breathtaking poster prints you will ever find, this poster of our great American Flag is made up of close to 1,000 micro-images of the events that occurred on September 11, 2001 in New York, Washington D.C., and
Pennsylvania. At the bottom of this amazing print is the powerful statement, "United We Stand".
Most importantly, 50% of the purchase price goes directly to
The Fallen Firefighters Fund in New York City to help the families of those who lost their lives helping others during this tragic event. The cost for this Limited Edition Print of The Memorial Flag is $20.00, and shipping is only $5.00 for as
many posters as you order. The Fallen Firefighters Fund receives $10.00 for every poster purchased.
Memorial Flag
*******************************
Volume I Issue XI
Sue Warren from Louisiana sends in a patriotic page for us to see: God Bless America Be patient and
give it a moment to load, it's definately worth the wait!
Thanks Mrs. Sue!
*******************************
Volume I Issue XII
I love this week's exchange! It comes from a proud grandfather
whose storytelling so charmed me that I couldn't resist allowing him to use the porch as the ultimate grandparent forum.
"Dear Shellie,
I don't know if you accept bragadocious anecdotes or not, but here
comes a true one:
This past saturday, my grandson Logan, age 6, had his first formal basketball game in a Lexington gym with cute little cheerleaders and most of the items that accompany college games.
Logan's dad, himself a splendid basketball player with college hopes until he injured his knee in high school, has been working with Logan on dribbling and shooting. Thus, he is far ahead of the rest of his
team and league. Not only was Logan the team's leading scorer, but he hit the winning basket from mid court. Swish! I'm planning to
write Tennessee's new coach to have him come to Lexington to see Logan play. Perhaps Logan will give the Vols a verbal committment.
Now, all you sitting on Shellie's front porch, do you think I'm rushing matters a bit? If anyone doubts Logan's mid-court winning shot, please
write me and we will gladly send you a video his grandmother made of the shot--a copy of the video we're sending to U.T.
Sincerely,
Billy Frank
(Hailing from the Blue Grass of Kentucky, who can't get rid of the orange and white. We fly the U.T. flag on our front porch and only have
three bullet holes in it.)
*******************************
Volume I Issue XIII
Allow me to introduce a few of your porch neighbors.~Shellie
I just had to reply to your article about double names. My first
and middle name is Jo Rae. Ever since I was a little girl, I've gone by both my first and middle names. In my case, it was a
matter of combining my Mama's middle name (Jo) and my father's middle name (Ray). My father was also named in this fashion.
Charles Ray, from his mama, Lennie Ray, and his father, Jesse Charles. I must admit, I didn't carry on the tradition with my
children and I greatly regret it. As I explained to my son, Timothy William, just the other day, your name is a gift given
to you by your parents and should be treasured accordingly.
I love your emag and if you ever get to South Carolina, I'd love
to have you stop by for some ice tea.
Sincerely,
Jo Rae Cash
Simpsonville, South Carolina
**********
My neighbor Jean Metcalf works at Conway Regional with
your sister Cyndie. She told me about your site this afternoon, and I must say, I have enjoyed reading
it - EVERY WORD. Such refreshment to hear and it brought back lots of memories of my childhood - especially the
'tomboy' getting in trouble part. I look forward to more issues, and I have sent your website to several
of my friends. My son-in-law is from Leesville, imagine--a Cajun in my family! It certainly comes in handy when it's
duck gumbo time. By the way, did Cyndie mention that Jean is a Yankee? :-)
Sincerely,
Jimmye Lynn Porter
Conway, AR USA
**********
Hey! I wanted to let you know I am still enjoying your site.
I thought I'd share something you can use in your emag if you'd like to.
The other morning as I was walking down the hall to wake Jenna up
for school, I could hear her talking to someone. As I entered the room I asked, "What were you saying?"
Jenna looked up with her sweet blue eyes and said "Oh, I was
just thanking God for life, 'cause mama-- I love life". It made me feel good to know that even with all that is going on
in the world today, my nine year old could look to her Heavenly Father and thank Him for "life". It made me realize that we need
to see things through a child's eyes more often. And so, I too say, "Thank you Lord for life."
Sincerely,
Lissa Spears
Natchez, Mississippi
*******************************
Volume I Issue XIV
YOUR LETTERS:
"Hey everybody! I've been excited about meeting y'all ever since Shellie
told me about the front porch group the other day at Piggly Wiggly's. Permit me to introduce myself, I'm new to Coon Creek. I live about
a mile down Greenbriar Road--bought the old Turner place. Kinfolks call me Uncle Billy, but y'all can call me Bill.
I hope you had a nice Thanksgiving. Ours was...well, different. It seems
it was only yesterday when my granny fixed a big, traditional Thanksgiving dinner for our large family. Unfortunately, there aren't too many of us
left around. Most have gone to their final resting-place. But, I don't intend
to spoil this splendid autumn afternoon with sad talk. I'm sure everybody here on the porch has experienced heart-breaking losses of some kind.
Seems like sorrow slips in the back door while we're sweeping out the front door...The trick is to remember there's always something to be thankful
for. Take me, I'm in pretty good health for my age, except for some dog-gone
arthritis and a little eye problem. Every morning, no matter how I'm aching,
I say to the good Lord, 'Thank ya' for letting me have another day on your
green earth. Please help me make the most of it.'
Would you look at the time! I better run. It's been fun visiting on the porch
with all of you gentle people. I'd love to chat about Tennessee Vol Football,
but I might start a riot out her on the porch with all of you LSU, OLE MISS,
and BAMA fans. Now y'all come and see me, ya' hear? Remember, I'm just down
the road a piece."
Bill
*****************
Dear Shellie, (and Coon Creek Porch Neighbors)
I know my subscription must have surprised you. Stanislav Zenov doesn't sound very southern, does it? That's because I'm from
Russia. I live in Murmansk, (South of the Artic) :-)
I love everything southern, and I'm a true admirer of the
Confederacy and the Southern way of living. I'm pretty sure that I'm the only Russian member of the SCV in Atlanta. The southern
charm and coziness of your web project and newsletter caught my attention while surfing around one day. My best compliments.
By the way, you're welcome to visit my site, though it's mostly in Russian: My site is
devoted to the gallant Confederate calvarymen.
I wish you all the best in closing. Looking forward to your
next newsletter.
Best regards and God Bless The South,
Stanislav
*******************************
Volume I Issue XV
This week's exchange comes from Jo Rae in South Carolina. I
started to put it in the "Chuckles" instead. If you have any funny anecdotes from your little southern ones (or big ones
for that matter) send 'em in. I'll find a place to post them.~smile~
Dear Shellie,
One day my little boy Timothy and I were talking and he
declared that one day he was going to marry me. Flattered, I explained that you can't marry your mama. He then declared
that he would marry his sister, Lauren, instead. Again, I explained that you can't marry your sister. Shocked, he looked
at me and exclaimed, "You mean I have to marry a STRANGER!".
Don't you just love it! (Of course, some southerners have
been known to marry relatives but it's usually cousins!)
Take care,
Jo Rae
*******************************
Volume I Issue 16
(This "Mom Moment" comes to you from the "Sportsman's
Paradise" State -- Louisiana!)
My seventeen-year-old son, Jake, is into duck hunting with his
best buddy, a black Lab named Doc. Early one morning, several days ago, they loaded his four-wheeler in the truck and trekked
to the duck blind to set out decoys for that weekend's hunt. He assured me he'd be back before school at 8:00.
At 7:15 I called his cell phone to check on him, no answer. I tried again 10 minutes later, no answer. Thus began the battle
between "Letting Him Grow Up" vs. "Mom To The Rescue". By 8:00 we had a winner: "Mom To The Rescue"!
Horrible thoughts assailed me as I drove to the field. Forcing myself not to worry, I called out to my Heavenly Father in prayer.
Arriving at the truck, I found no sign of the "duck-hunting duo". The only way to get a view of the area was to drive to the top of
the levee. Off I went, quickly! Holding my breath, I rounded the curve to see the most precious sight in the world--my son, dressed
in hip waders, dragging a bundle of decoys and scattering them randomly, while his dog patiently watched his master from the duck
blind. Unfortunately, my relief came out looking like anger as I unleashed my emotions on my son, who in turn unleashed his. Later,
after we calmed down, I learned he had slid his four wheeler into a ditch and it had taken a while to get it out.
We both learned some lessons that day. I learned I have much to be thankful for...I have a wonderful son. A son who slid a four-
wheeler into a ditch because it was a muddy day -- not because he was drinking and acting foolish. He was late for school
because he was committed to finishing a task, not because he was playing hookey. And he was hanging out with his dog, who he has
spent many hours and much of his own money on, and not with the "wrong crowd" wasting time and money.
Shellie, if any of your readers have kids who need a distraction from computer games, MTV, peer pressure and temptations, this
Southern gal strongly recommends a dose of the Great Outdoors! If you don't want to shoot a gun, take a camera. Nature is one
of the most awesome gifts our Creator has given us. Enjoy it!
God Bless,
Rhonda Perry from Louisiana
*******************************
Volume I Issue 17
Hi Shellie,
I had to laugh when I read last week's issue. We southern ladies
really DO decorate ourselves for the holidays and sometimes we ARE wired for lights; or, at least, I used to be... We've
had such a hot season this year--I tried wearing a holiday sweat shirt the other day and that's exactly what I did...SWEAT!!
One year my husband gave me some huge, dangling, red plastic, triangle-shaped earrings to wear to work at the hospital Christmas
Eve. They came with batteries and two or three LED lights each and blinked back and forth. I thought they were awful but I wore
them anyway because my husband thought they were pretty...LOL !!
I've never received more attention than I did that night! Back
then I worked in labor and delivery, and I was certainly in the holiday spirit with those babies popping out left and right
while my earrings dangled and flashed--slapping me in the face and anyone else who got near!
I never wore the earrings again; the batteries made them
very heavy and they did my ears no service at all. But it sure was one Christmas I won't forget!
Merry Christmas,
Evanda
Lynn Haven, Florida
Check out Evanda's Holiday House
~~~~~~~~~~
Hi Shellie,
When my mother's dad was small his family lived way, way out in
the country. Back then the kids didn't have fancy stockings to hang by the chimney. Instead, they hung the biggest clean sock
they could find because whatever they got in their stockings on Christmas morning was it! As the story goes, there was an empty
house down the road from where my grandfather lived so he figured Santa wouldn't know the difference if he hung a stocking by that
fireplace, too. That way he'd get twice the goodies.But, unbeknownst to him, my great-grandfather saw him slip down to the
empty house to hang his second stocking.
Well, on Christmas morning my grandfather cleaned out his first
stocking and took the first chance he got to sneak off to the old house down the road, chuckling to himself that he'd got one
over on Old Santa. Imagine his disappointment when he emptied out the stocking only to find it filled with what we in the South call
dried "mule biscuits"!!!
Just wanted to share that with you. Hope you and yours have a
very Merry Christmas.
God Bless You,
Deborah
Coker, Alabama
*******************************
Volume I Issue 18
Dear Shellie,
My mom has a copy of your book; I can't wait to read it. I was thumbing through it at my parents' house when Daddy took it away
from me and started reading it himself. I can relate to a lot of it.
Right now I'm raising a skunk! Yes, my husband Jessie brought me
home a skunk to raise. Her eyes were still closed and I had to bottle feed her. I carried her back and forth to my job in Monroe
for weeks in order to feed her every 3 hours. These city slickers thought I was crazy. Ha! Don't ever think country folks and city
folks are alike.
My skunk is 5 months old now and her name is Daisy. Neat pet
really--potty trained and everything. At five weeks old we had her demusked. She was still under weight for that age but I insisted
that Jay do it (she was starting to spray the dogs). That little creature stopped breathing during surgery. Yes, we had to
intubate her and perform rescue breathing!
Daddy's nickname for my husband, Jessie, is Daniel Boon. If it
involves hunting/trapping etc., he does it. The plaques from your
store fit him to a "T". Thanks!
Tara Williamson
Transylvania, Louisiana
_______
Dear Shellie,
I have a favorite patriotic site I would like to share with your
other porch guests. It's Lee Greenwood singing God Bless the USA
Keep up the Southern Tradition!
Leatha, (from your hometown)
Lake Providence, La.
*******************************
Volume I Issue 19
Your letters:
Dear readers,
One of the biggest surprises this adventure called All Things
Southern continues to offer me has to be the variety of people
that find a home on my porch. A site that I, in my naivety,
thought would be confined to the Southern USA seems to strike
cords all across the globe. Today you're introduced to one
of your newest neighbors,(who doesn't exactly live around the
corner). And then, one of the original members of Coon Creek
poses a question for anyone willing to respond.
Your letters:
Hi Everyone,
This is Ilavarasu, from India. Thanks to Shellie for the
invitation she has extended to me, to write this note :-) .
I think that man savours life not only for what he has been
getting, but for what he has been missing in his life.
To come to the point, I miss my home town (I'm 500 miles away
from home, I was born in Madras ( Tamilnadu state), and currently
work in this state ( Karnataka ), in its capital city, Bangalore.
I cannot go home at will). I miss the sunrise, which I used to
watch while walking to school as a kindergarten student. My friend
used to complain that we were living in a jungle... but now I realize
that I like that jungle more than I like the concrete jungle we
live in now...(honestly, people, it has been a long time since
I've got sight of the sunrise...nearly 20 years!!!)
I miss the first love... the "First Things" that happened when I was
in school, the first successes, the first failures, and everything
related to everything :-). I can write ad nauseam about what I miss,
but that would sound too pessimistic for a first time chat, which I
don't want to. This craving for things long lost has lead me to
search for my past. One such search led me to this site. I was
searching for places where people spoke about themselves, about
people, about neighbors, about places, etc. I'm glad I found it.
Happy reading dear people,
Ilavarasu
Karnataka, India
------
Dear Shellie,
Here is a question for all of the real Southerners out there.
There are days when I get up early and fix that good 'ol Southern
Breakfast of bacon, eggs, homemade biscuits and a big pot full of
grits. It is a sad day when that happens to be the morning that no
one in my house wants to eat the meal.
Bacon and eggs make it into my "Fried Rice" but what do you do
with left over grits short of making wall paper paste? Do any of your readers have suggestions?
John Parker
Bedford Texas
*******************************
Volume I Issue 20
Your letters:
Dear Shellie,
I found your magazine thru looking for "things Southern" on
Google. I'm an expatriate Texan/Southerner, living now in Pennsylvania--goin' on four years now. I'm always lookin' for
things from home, and I was tickled pink to find All Things Southern, believe you me!
I'm glad you like my email address. It does speak, doesn't it? Sometimes when I get compliments after playing (the piano), I
do well to remember my email address so I don't get stuffed up with pride. The Lord gave me this talent and I'm using it for
Him to the best of my ability.
My husband and I met online in a Christian chatroom, nearly
five years ago. He's a precious man, in spite of the fact that he IS a Northerner. I now distinguish between Yankees
and Northerners. Northerners are nice people who talk funny and live up North. Yankees are the arrogant cretins who, were the
War Between the States to happen physically today, would be in the thick of the battle. These people I ignore or avoid like the
plague, whichever is more expedient. :)
I do look forward to getting the issues of All Things Southern,
and thank you so kindly for your gracious note to me.
In the love of the Lord,
Bron from Pennsylvania
iplay4hisglory@earthlink.net
P.S. The people in our church love to gently poke fun at my accent
and try to imitate it. I find it's really very endearing. I say,
"Imitation is the most sincere form of flattery, so thank you!"
A great icebreaker, you might say! The only one who comes close is
an ex-colonel, who once lived in Texas for three years. What's
even funnier is that our pastor is starting to say "y'all". I tell
'em that "class rubs off"!
---------
(Hi readers, this next letter comes from the winner of December's
Great Gator Give-A-Way!)
Hi Shellie,
I just wanted to write and tell you I got my Gator in the mail
today, and I must say I was so wonderfully surprised! I have to
tell you, I have never gotten such a unique prize, nor one that
made me smile as much as this precious Gator.
My life has been not so wonderful for over a year due to an
accident I had, and not too much cheers me up these days- but
this Gator really was what the doctor ordered. I love it and will
cherish it.
Again, thank you!
Wendy Madison
Marietta, Georgia
--------
Shellie,
You've got to tell John Parker, Bedford TX (who wants to know what
to do with leftover grits)---that leftover grits can become Cheese Grits real easy---and taste real good!
Just put cold grits in microwave and warm (not hot). Separate with fork or spoon, add chunks of favorite cheese, American,
cheddar, etc., and season well with garlic salt (I add pepper, too). Pop back into microwave until cheese melts and stir well
to mix. I like to use the small rolls of garlic cheese and jalapeno cheese, one each. Gives a real spicy taste. A little Southern
with a kick.
Garlic Grits are great as a side dish, especially with ham. I'm a
grits girl, so I like them from a bowl with a hot roll on side. Love your emag!
Nancy Whitten
Vicksburg, MS
Click here for Southern Exchange--Page Two
Facebook 
Blog
