that little dose of special

There's something about a southern drawl.
...and I am on the verge of having enough conversation about my own ax-cent to write a best seller about the power of that something!

Most of we Southerners don't realize the little dose of special that seeps from our lips because we are used to it, we know no differently and are surrounded by others who share this sweet slang. But several years ago, through international travel with my job, I quickly learned that as soon as my feet step across the mason dixon line, my accent quickly becomes a greater part of the first impression of me.

I'd never felt that my accent was overly drastic or pronounced, but a first inkling of suspicion was during my sophomore year in college (in Montgomery, AL nonetheless). The Head of Admissions assigned me all of the recruiting phone calls and campus tours for the yankee boys because she was certain my Georgia drawl would suck them all in. Everyone laughed about it, but she was dead serious, and those guys were my target recruits for three years! I'm not sure what my success rate was, but believe me, I got really good at knowing exactly when to let the southern charm loose!

Some folks note that they can tell I'm from Georgia as opposed to Alabama, Tennessee or Mississippi...something about Georgia drawls are a little more sing-songy while the others have more of a distinct edge {long i's & overly pronounced a's}. And most common is the immediate and godforsaken comment, "aww, you're a Georgia Peach". really, again? At some point in time there must have been a worldwide memo released letting mankind believe that this sentiment is endearing and cute. Obviously, I wasn't part of the select few Jawja girls polled to create this assumption. Because personally, I find it cheesier than my best friend Gouda, entirely overused and my forced smiles and courtesy "yeaaah, I guess I am" are wearing me out.

But my frequent visits to Arizona have only increased my awareness of the sweet poison flowing from my trap, because it's the first topic of nearly every single conversation or interaction I have with anyone there: a stranger, new friend, cashier at the grocery store, waitress, or geriatric transplant from MinnesOta. Now, don't get me wrong, Collin gets it too, as there is no hiding his South Alabama jargon....and well he kinda gives his native Southern-ness away with an "ode to Bama" emblem on practically every thing he owns.

So we've gotten pretty good at anticipating some one's attraction to the flow from our chops and when we're together, he typically responds graciously to those standard questions with our pat answers that go something like this:

-"...yes I am from the South, how could you tell?"
-"I'm from Alabama, she's from Georgia but we met in Nashville"
-"I'm only living here temporarily and will be back in the South soon"

And my favorite part is when they anxiously reply with:
-"wow, that's soooo cool because my friend used to live in Atlanta!"

Period.
And once that is declared, they feel this immediate connection with us because surely we know their friend {who is probably really their cousin's brother's ex-wife's daughter's step sister} who lives in that little ole capital city in the Peach State {that just happens to have over half a million people!}, right?

But the most comical situations are the bar scenes when Collin happens to step away to use the restroom or take a phone call. Now, I'm a pretty social and outgoing gal, so of course I ignite conversation with the bartender or my neighbor bar stool dweller {male or female} and it never fails; the accent soon takes precedence and topic of conversation and my pat answers to those same ole questions begin to flow....

-"I'm from a small town in Georgia that you've never heard of but is southwest of Atlanta."
-"Yes, Southerners really do love college football that much"

...and somehow it's quickly presumed that we are fast friends or I am all of a sudden available. And well, a drink is soon offered in honor of this new found friendship.

So as any Southern girl should do, I accept and smile.

The quick fascination with my accent and 'where I come from' combined with my drink order {this good ole girl's standard: Makers Mark & Sprite}, has created some of the most shocking and funny reactions and conversations. Collin thinks it's hilarious and lets me play along for a bit while secretly reveling in pride for his bourbon lovin' girl. BUT, it does come with one stipulation: I have to charm a drink for him out of it too! A totally fair deal and we always leave with a new friend, a lighter bar tab and a good story to tell.

I've come to the conclusion that the immediate friendship and connection that these folks feel to Southerners comes from comparison to characters in movies and T.V. These two sources provide the most frequent access to hearing and identifying the southern accent. So, we are all considered to be of the iconic, kind and down-to-earth nature of legendary and popular southern figures {June Cleaver, Forrest Gump, Paula Deen, Andy & Barney, et al}. And who wouldn't want to be friends with that crowd?!

...and come to think of it, I believe the core of a Southerner is inately both of those things: kind and down-to-earth. So perhaps it's not so far from the truth?

The casual pace of speaking is reflective of a slower way of life and added syllables to the most common of words, creates a sense of comfort and relatablitiy that only OUR accent offers. And nothing can trump the numerous encounters with several fellow Southerners {transplanted out West} who literally stop in their tracks when they hear us talking. They introduce themselves and hang around for as long as possible because we "make them feel like home".

I find this sentiment the greatest of compliments because the synonymous nature of home and the South really resonates strongly with me. I'll never understand why anyone would choose to live in that extremely strange desert city, but I cannot imagine living void of the simple feeling of home that only the South can provide.

It's easy to laugh about these chance encounters, the odd fascination and contagious spirit of the southern drawl. But I'll be happily tolerant of every single question and the increasing amount of stranger-friends, if this little dose of special that seeps from my lips can bring even a small sense of home to the world existing outside the Mason Dixon line.