This past Sunday I spent the day at my sister's house in Ludowici (the town I grew up in) with my other sister and cousin. I was possessed with the urge to drive into Ludowici and see what's changed since I've been gone. For those of you who don't know, Ludowici is a very small town with only one redlight, so any change is major. My two sisters, my cousin and me piled into my car and we drove into town.
We took the "scenic route" in and looked at all the new things and visited some old haunts (actually we drove by real slow, but it seemed like we visited them). Then Kasey and I had the brilliant idea to show Teri and Melanie the witch's grave in the old cemetary behind the old elementary school. Of course there is no witch's grave; it was just a grave that boys would show their girlfriends so the girls would be frightened and cling to them thus giving the boys an easy in to a steamy make out session (and yes, I've been there before).
After searching for the witch's grave and not finding it, we drove by Thurman Martin's house (the site of the Ludowici Tomato Patch Murders) and our tour was complete. We returned home.
I've been thinking about this past Sunday on and off this week, and I've realized something. I've spent my whole life running from being a southerner. My New York cousins used to make fun of my accent when I was younger, so I learned not to talk with one. When I tell anyone I'm from Ludowici, I'm slightly embarrassed and mock myself and the education system. Not anymore. I realize that I am a hick. I hate wearing shoes, I like trucks, and if I'm not careful, I very easily slip into a natural, southern accent. I also can't do math thanks to the kooks at Walker Elementary who taught me the wrong way to do subtraction. Big deal. Who am I trying to impress? I guess being a semi redneck is ok.
Thursday, March 30, 2006
Searching for the Witch's Grave
Posted by Kirsten at 3:45 PM
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3 comments:
I always feel the exact same way when I go home. I'm from Cairo (KAY-RO) and grew up on a farm. My best friend and I spent an entire summer trying to rid ourselves of our southern accents. And, although I'm not a big John Deer fan nor do I like the GA Bulldogs, I am proud of my "southerness". I like to think that I, and all of my friends, are proof that the south really isn't "Darwin's Waiting Room". :)
I realize that I have way too much to say about this (all of it in accordance with your post), so instead of monopolizing your comment section, I will add my two cents on my blog.
Go Blue Tide!
Of course I have felt the same way, but I learned that there is nothing worse than someone trying to fit into a mold of what they think they should be. They are unhappy and other people can sense a fake. If you like a Krystal burger, so what? I have found that is you are honest about who you really are, people will be honest with you about who they are. Many times this produces a genuine relationship rather than one built on pretensions.
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