Sunday, April 18, 2010

Ah, the weekend

Sorry for the radio silence.  I have been on the road for the past few days and work has interfered.  Not so much with my time to write, as much as my time to give thought to what is going on in the world and what to write. 

This kept me busy too.
I do have a couple of thoughts about living in the Mid-West that struck me the other day during my travels. I try my best to make connection with all things and people Southern, generally, and Dawg, specifically, around here when I can.  For example, there is a jeep that parks near my building with Illinois tags, but a big UGA spare tire cover.  I put my card on the windshield and we have corresponded occasionally.  Seems like a nice fellow. 

There is another, a recent grad of UGA that is in the meat science program here.  I haven't formally met him, but have exchanged emails and such.  The other day, I was headed home from work when I saw a pickup with Taylor County, Georgia plates.  I pulled up beside him as we drove down the road and hollered at him.  Seemed like a perfectly normal thing to do.  Seemed that way to him, too.  We talked for a few seconds, but at 45 miles per hour, we only exchanged plesantries and I headed home.  Nice fellow, too.

At this point, you are either reading it and thinking, "BIE, what is the point of this story?" or "Why in the world would you talk to someone whilst driving up the road."  If you are from small town Georgia, you fall squarely in the first category.  From anywhere else, the second.  Based on my (admittedly) unscientific surveys, either I was committing a grievous and dangerous road faux pas or just being neighborly.  Now, I haven't hollered any anyone while driving (hollered being in a friendly manner) since I moved up here four years ago, but it didn't feel the least bit strange to do so.  Hell, it wouldn't have felt strange, even if it had been a complete stranger from Taylor County, although the odds of two people from Taylor County being in Central Illinois at the same time would be astronomical. 

The other is a bit of a brag.  I am now known as the guy with the Georgia flag in front of his house.  In a way, my work here is nearing completion, at least as an ambassador of all things UGA.  I got introduced at a party as the Georgia fan in town and people that I have never met and have no real reason to know me knew who I was and where I lived.  I was very proud. 

Finally, I got to use a Lewis Grizzard story yesterday.  I am only a bit ashamed that I didn't atribute it to him, but I guess this is public enough a forum to come clean.  I told an assembled group that noted I didn't sound like they did that they were the ones that talked funny and that God talked like we do.  I firmly believe that.



  1. Re: your accent. I was out with some coworkers the other night, and one of them was telling us that she'd been in Knoxvegas recently and heard Derek Dooley speak. She thought he sounded like a completely ignorant redneck. Now, I haven't heard him speak too much, but at no point did I think his accent made him sound like some slack-jawed moron. I pointed out that the man was accepted to Princeton and has degrees from UVA and UGA. I refrained from pointing out that the commenter didn't have near the academic credentials Mr. Dooley did and that to those of us who appreciate the finer things in life (namely, azaleas, bourbon and good football), an accent like his sounds much nicer than the nondescript accents produced in Carmel, Indiana.

  2. I have long liked to use that sort of bias to my advantage. You can sneak up on people, if they assume you are dumb because of your accent. Some people are open minded about it, some aren't. Those that aren't are no different than those from home that refuse to believe there is anything redeeming about anywhere north of Henry County.

    Rural Georgia by no means has the exclusive franchise on small mindedness.