hick vs. southern

I may need to reconsider the possibilities associated with southern-ishness. Without southern gentility and graciousness, I suspect that I may have overreached. In my hometown, there were not any cotillions. There were no southern belles or men dressed in white suits (except for on the Kentucky Fried Chicken buckets rolling around in pickup truck beds). Yes, there were biscuits aplenty. But those were at all-you-can-eat buffets -- which were available as breakfast, lunch and supper at the same joint. Labeling state routes with letters may have more to do with the an effort to avoid confusing the locals with numbers (or ciphers). In actuality, there appears to be a legacy of hillbilly and hick-ishness. Instead of the endeariig drawl that can rival an Irish maiden's accent, we were blessed with Foghorn Leghorn as the voice that penetrated our skulls.

There were live bluegrass music performances to accompany the Sunday morning church programs on the teevee. Anything contained within our skins was touching our innards. At the mini-mart, there were 6 varieties of leaf chewing tobacco for sale. They sold gum to kids in containers the same shape and dimensions as a Skoal can. Many men buy their clothes at the hardware store ... perhaps because that is where wide and rugged suspenders are sold. The list goes on but after a bit, it seems downright silly. For a visitor, it all could seem quaint. For a local, it all seems just fine and dandy. But for escapees, it all seems a little too familiar and frightening at the same time. I would have to think twice before mentioninng Obama in mixed company. But I could hear the prices for hog bellies and corn futures during the noon radio news, something that is not as easy to obtain in New England.