Now, I like my deep-fried South as much as the next Southern boy, but I don't think I've ever ruminated so deeply on the "sweet smelling savour" of the cotton fields or the "Christian Southern Gentlemen" and their "Ladies Fair." In my South, these ladies fair skipped school with their christian gents to hang out at the Expo, an agricultural fair and the source of considerable hullabaloo, and were introduced to Strawberry-Flavored Chewing Tabacco. Because obviously, them ladies fair gotta have something to spit.
It just seems a bit hyperbolic to prattle on so about the mythical South. Yeah, the culture is different and I'm all about those wonderful differences, but I haven't sipped a mint julep on the veranda with my Ma and Pa, wearing my Sunday finest and waiting for our boys to get back from the War, in ages. Y'all.
The Quote that started the rant (from an anonymous website).
"When I consider Southern Poetry, the soft breeze of grace and majesty of the Old South comes back, like a long ago paradise of flowers, cotton fields, hanging trees and song birds, a sweet smelling savour. Christian Southern Gentlemen and their Ladies Fair, their majestic columned plantation homes; happy children playing before them. But I am reminded also of Confederate Warriors suited for battle, in long grey lines, defending our Southern homeland. Southern Poetry allows me to relive as it were, our history, heritage and culture, like a weary warrior returning for a respite from the ravages of war, but for a moment, return to the splender, grace and the nobility, a collective memory buried deep within the heart of the South."
