Sometimes I wonder how slow drivers ever make it anywhere. I have always had road rage episodes on occasion, but since moving to Mississippi, they’ve become much more frequent. I think that no one in this state is ever in a hurry. And that’s just the beginning of a long list of reasons why everyone can tell I’m a transplant.
Typically people from Missouri have a “neutral” dialectal (unless they live north of St. Louis- there they tend to have Northern accents). But Bootheelians (like me) typically inherit a twang- not the sound of a pretty Southern drawl, but rather that of a country “hick” as we refer. Although I catch myself picking up the Mississippi tongue from time to time, I’m still tragically stuck with the confused sound of the Bootheel accent. People continually ask me where I’m from because “I sound different.” And I know they probably just mean that I don’t talk as pretty as they do…thanks for adding insult to injury.
My “Mississippi pseudo family” also likes to point out our differences. We frequently pick out words that I say differently and take turns repeating them over and over while laughing at each other. I like to eat pickled beets, which is apparently a “Northern thing” (direct quote from Alex’s brother, Michael). I grew up on Miracle Whip which is a sin if you didn’t know, and thus I have been converted to real mayonnaise. I also do not put pepper juice in my black-eyed peas, which are referred to only as “peas” down here. (The peas that I grew up on are round and bright green, not beany.) In jr. high we went “T.P.’n”, but Alex and I took Kameron and her friends “rollin.” We do not associate by counties. And though I always considered my home a “town” because of its smaller size compared to many larger “cities” in Missouri, it is known as a “big city” to people around here because it has a Walmart. And the list goes on…
Mississippi tends to fall into “region” rather than “town” associations, which is also different for me. I went to Sikeston public schools and thus my friends were Sikestonians. Anyone from a different town was automatically an enemy because of sports rivalries. However, many Mississippians go to private schools that draw from different parts of an area, and thus associate in regions. Clay and I were quick to observe this while attending Mississippi State and made a game out of classifying Mississippi natives in their “regions.” Our categories included: Hills (where I currently reside), Jackson, Delta, and Coasties. Coasties are the easiest to spot in all their salt-lifestyleness because they like to be barefoot and usually have jewelry made of fish hooks. Jackson’s are also easy as to find because they are the ones that are clearly from a city and are a little more eccentric than the basic Mississippian. (They weren’t all necessarily from Jackson, but they obviously didn’t grow up on a farm. Typically they were the “frat stars” on campus.) Deltas are the proud farm boys with high egos and even higher drinking tolerances. And the Hill people were the ones that didn’t quite fit the other categories, and were simply a basic mold for Mississippi or Southern people with no pull anywhere else. (This game doesn’t always apply to girls because female trends tend to be more encompassing and not limited to a region.)
William Faulkner said “to understand the world, you must first understand a place like Mississippi”- I’m learning to understand. I have always loved the beautiful landscapes and scenery in Mississippi, and especially the fact that it has a coast. But on the contrary, beautiful landscapes have an inverse relationship with cities (aka solutions to the solitudes). Of all the places in the “landmass state”, I (in my Missouri mind-set) would say there is only one city (Jackson), and four towns (Tupelo, Oxford, Starkville, and Vicksburg). Moral of the story, if you live in the western-South and want to go to a city, you go to Birmingham. That’s it.
Recently a co-worker and native Mississippian brought to my attention all the famous people from Mississippi. In his observation, he wondered why none of their stardom had brought more attention to the state in terms of the economy, tourism, and essentially, things to do. He explained that after living here his whole life, he was bored. Though my co-worker and I both live outside “town limits” in the middle of nowhere, the town we claim has little to offer outside the working day hours. (This is typical of most places in this great state.) If I had lived here my whole life I would probably feel the same way, but since moving here I have realized something else. The nothingness of Mississippi encourages things that today’s societies so desperately need but continue to lose touch with: being outdoor, appreciating little things, spending time with loved ones, and creativity to supplement the voids. I think the Mississippi “celebrities” know that their investments in their home state could deplete the foundation of what makes it so great in the first place. Sometimes people just need to get away and get in touch, and if they’re lucky enough to understand that, they go to Mississippi.
I’m still learning this seemingly backward place, but oh, it’s beautiful. And I can understand the native’s love-hate relationship because though it can sometimes be boring, I love to call it my home. I was reading the editor’s note in Real Simple magazine last week and she was painting a perfect picture of the busy lifestyle of an editor. Racing home between meetings to grab a quick bite when suddenly, the beauty of her clementine- it’s colors and texture and the way the peel came off- stopped her. She thought “people write poems about things this small and beautiful. Slow down”. And right there, in the middle of the editors note, I realized that Mississippi was the clementine. Those who don’t see it’s exquisiteness in entirety haven’t slowed down enough to appreciate life itself. Its genuine nature makes it seem naïve, but I think it’s the rest of us that have something to learn. I think that means I’m learning…
I even caught myself driving under the speed limit yesterday. Whoa.
Love always,
Addie
“Mississippi is like my mother. I am allowed to complain about her all I want, but God help the person who raises an ill word about her around me, unless she is their mother too.” –Kathryn Stockett
Breaking out of the Bootheel 