We had an event down here recently that made the news for four or five days running. Folks up North didn’t quite understand why we Southerners totally freaked out when it happened. No, I’m not talking about Robert E. Lee surrendering at Appomattox Courthouse. We’ve come to terms with that…such as it is. I’m talking about something else. It’s not easy to talk about because it’s considered a four-letter word down here.
I’m talking about a four-letter word, the occurrence of which is often accompanied by the use of another four-letter word. Yep, we did hear it a few times, frequently accompanied by the F-bomb. Understandably, both came primarily from our northern transplants—bless their hearts. I’ll explain.
Living in the “sunny” South can be a challenge for folks from up North—at least for the first year, two, or three, and yes, I heard a few of them combining the F-bomb with that other four-letter word more than once. You see, up North, the word—not the F-bomb word—but THAT other word—is one normally considered fit for common usage and is not necessarily considered vulgar. But you say it down here in Mississippi, and you better get the heck outta the way. Just sayin’.
You see, up North that word is often combined with other four-letter words, like -fall, -plow, -salt, -shoe, or five-letter words like -chains, -tires, first-, third-, all of which usually occur by sometime in November. Yep, we got 5-8 inches of the nasty stuff, and it stayed around for four or five days. Down here, we folk set off the tornado sirens when the “expert meteorologist” says there’s a possibility of “snow.” There it is! Yes, I said it. I put it in lowercase letters to reduce the effect, but it won’t matter. I’ll probably be banned from Facebook, Amazon, the church bulletin, and every local paper within a hundred miles.
So, anyway, the difference is in the interpretation. “Snow” in Yankee is a fairly innocuous word indicating a need for those aforementioned other four- and five-letter pre- or suffixes— -plow, -salt, -tires ‘etc. Here in the South, on the other hand, the mention of this profanity is a call for mass mobilization. The lines at the gas stations stretch out onto the highway. The propane dealers sell out within hours. There’s not a generator to be found anywhere south of the Maxon-Dixon, and the grocery store shelves—well they can only be described in biblical terms (Exodus 10:12). Yes, it resembles the locust plague.
Grocery carts are piled high with two months’ worth of milk, bread, tater chips, and Diet Coke (the inclusion of which is to off-set the inflationary effects of the aforementioned chips and bread). And should you arrive there more than five or six hours after the “expert meteorologist” mentions the S-word, you’re screwed. You’ll be met with yards of empty shelves, or at the least, lines of shoppers stretching down the aisles all the way back to the meat department and not a grocery cart in sight. And if you waited until the four-letter S-stuff began falling, bless your heart, the drive home is gonna be an adrenaline ride that makes turn-4 at Talladega look like kitty cars.
There are several rules we Southerners follow while driving in snowy or icy conditions. First: Stay very close behind the guy in front of you. Not sure why, but it seems to be common practice, so just do it. Second: If you come up on a bridge or overpass, apply your brakes vigorously. Afterall, the bridge always freezes first and you gotta creep across it, even on the interstate highway. Never mind that jack-knifing 18-wheeler behind you. That’s why they put ditches and medians on the roads. Third: Do not under any circumstances exceed ten miles per hour. Oh, and if you Yankee transplants think you’re getting’ off from this one Scott free, guess again.
Northerners learn quickly that Southerners panic and drive ten-miles-per-hour for miles on end, even on packed snow. There’s only one response. TAILGATE!! Yeah, give ‘em some NASCAR bumper love. And at the earliest opportunity pass them in the median or off the shoulder of the road and hope you don’t overlook a concrete culvert. Poor things are simply frustrated, and not without just cause when the closest thing to a snowplow in the county is a front-end loader. The problem is in the venting. It only fogs up your windshield and increases your chances of ending up in a ditch.
Oh, and did you know that a four-wheel drive vehicle can’t stop any faster than a two-wheel-drive one? This issue tends to occur in both demographic groups and is described by Ron White as something that can’t be fixed, so I’ll reserve comment. The deer pics are for my northern friends, so as to sooth their nerves and relieve their anxiety.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch…if you enjoyed this little commentary, please sign-up for my mail list. Go to www.rickdestefanis.com and do it. I have had numerous friends and loyal readers tell me “I didn’t know you came out with another book.” Subscribe and you will get about one email a month, and if you’re in a bad mood, that’s why God created the delete key. I now have twelve novels published—seven in the Vietnam War series and four in my Rawlins Saga western series. Subscribe and don’t miss another book. And your update: I finished the second draft of Specter of Betrayal the sequel to The Ghost, Rumors from the Central Highlands of Vietnam. I’m still hoping to have it out in the spring.
Happy reading, and don’t forget Valentines Day.
