I live in Northern Virginia. Fairfax Virginia, to be exact. I live next door to the place where Maj. John Mosby hid from the Yankees. (All of a hundred yards from where those superior Yankees had their headquarters, but let’s not get into that.) I was born here. I am a third generation native of Fairfax County. We are southern. All you carpetbaggin’ gummint drones ain’t changin’ that no matter how hard you try.
You arrive in droves every four years, like locusts. You whine and bitch about how much better it is wherever the hell you came from, for the entire term that you or your fat toady boss holds office. But then, you decide not to go back to your beloved Yankee heaven. You stay here. Well, we ain’t outlawed you hangin’ around, but by God you could at least quit your bitchin! Believe me, it was a whole lot nicer here when everyone said thank you mam to the store clerks, and let you in when you were trying to turn on to the road. Most of the stuff that makes Northern Virginia less southern is the stuff that rude Yankees brought with them from wherever the hell they come from.
Grits, butter, salt, eggs go on the side, and you drag the pieces through the grits, after you pop the yolk, which is still liquid. You scrape the leftovers up with the biscuit.
Damn Ultress you’ve never had salt herring or mackerel deep fried really crisp so you can eat the tail, bones and all? Wow! When I was little my uncle used to take me down to the James when the herring were running. (They’re gone now.) We’d stand over this culvert that was part of a creek branch in the river. Just stick our net in the water and it would be full. He’d bring them home, clean them and pack them in jars of salt and put them in the shed for a few months. Nanny would soak them, bread them, and deep fry them until they were so crisp they almost fell apart. You can get salt herring now at a little diner on Halifax Street in Petersburg, it’s called the Dixie. Comes with biscuits and hash browns or grits, for about 4 bucks. I love it but it always gives me heartburn later. I had no idea that was just a Virginia thing.
Oh yeah and I HATE CREAM OF WHEAT…when I was little we had this lazy “come to the house” babysitter, that’s all she’d feed us for breakfast. I used to gag on the stuff.
Like my mother and her fruit and cottage cheese thing. YUCK! I can only eat that stuff with a lot of salt and pepper. Have no intention of ruining my cantalope with a big glob of cottage cheese!
Since there’s a great debate on who constitutes a southerner, I figured I’d ask since I’m no longer positive.
Pros:
a) My whole family is from the mountains of NC and have been there since the early 1700’s (Thats as far as we can trace back), and most still live there. However, I was born in California and raised in VA. (NoVA to be exact, ack!)
b) I love grits, but only with butter. Whats this salt and pepper crap?
c) I like scrapple, sue me.
d) I drink Tabasco straight. If your not sweating, it’s not hot enough.
e) No finer woman than a southern belle.
f) Biscuits and gravy is a whole meal.
Cons:
a) I hate stock car racing, except for the crashes. Love motorcycle racing though.
b) I can’t stand Okra, green bean casserole, fried tomatos, or collared greens.
Do I count? Or just my family? My dad calls me a Yank, but I call him a mountain hick…
Hmmm, Modian, not sure. That NC thing does work in your favor, but that California thing is almost unbearable to even read. And you don’t like fried tomatoes or collards, so I have to think you’re merely a poseur. But the biscuits 'n gravy probably sorta makes up for that. And, for the record, the best biscuits 'n gravy anywhere are at Clary’s in Savannah. Oh man, talk about heaven on earth!
Okay, north of Orlando it’s “southern.”
Texas is fine, but I prefer the United States.
Being Southern is a state of mind, but it helps to have lived here awhile.
Anyone south of Virginia does NOT consider Virginia “southern.”
Addressing the “backwards” stereotype: Tennessee cast the deciding vote to grant women’s suffrage.
The Lady Vols are the best women’s basketball team in recorded history.
No sugar in grits, ever, period.
Hash? Mackerel? You gotta be kidding. That’s Yankee food.
(nothing against these foods but they ain’t Southern)
Cornbread is made with white cornmeal…the sugar is optional, but fried cornbread don’t need it.
“Y’all” is never singular. Yankee myth.
Mountain folk prefer “you’uns.”
To curse in Southern, you must know when to add syllables and when to eliminate them. Example:
“damn” is pronounced “dah-yum.”
“son of a bitch” is pronounced “sumbitch.”
The best way to determine one’s “southern quotient” is to just listen to them for a few minutes.
If they say “ya’ll” as a single syllable, their southern.
If they say “ya’ll” as two syllables, they are pretending.
If they don’t say it at all, keep listening (but be skeptical).
If they say “fixin’” and aren’t talking about repairs, they’re southern. (I’m fixin’ to go to the store.)
If they say “yous guys” you will turn a profit betting against them being southern.
Ummm, SouthernStyle, I hate to disagree with you, but.
‘Y’all’ as one syllable, plural, is indeed the correct usage, but even a damnyankee (like yours truly) can master that after a bit. And a few years of being married to my gorgeous Southern bride has given me a pretty good grip on the proper usage of “fixin’ ta,” as in, “my wife is fixin’ ta go ta bed,” which as you know, can mean that she’s anywhere from being about to hop under the covers, to remotely comntemplating the idea.
So it’s possible to use both these expressions like a true Southerner, and still be a damnyankee.
Well hell, RTFirefly, if you manage to get “y’all” and “fixin’ to” right, you are about as close to being a Southerner as one can get without actually having had that honor bestowed upon you by the good Lord himself.
Of course, the ultimate determination is to have some damn tourist demand to hear you speak and then coo oh-so-condescendingly about your accent. Then you’ve arrived.
Yes, mackerel isn’t necessarily southern but it’s cheaper than herring which has gotten to be expensive. It must be a Tidewater thing anyway I’m sure. Herring just don’t “run” around here anymore. Surely a complication of over fishing and loss of natural habitat.
I am not only a Yankee but a JEWISH Yankee and danged …er…darned proud of it! The South is definately an ALIEN NATION… even if y’all… Youse guys … seem to be “nice” (the south’s favorite rule of ettiquitte)…
