Everybody knows that people in the South say, "Bless your heart!" A lot of people make fun of it and think it's just a silly thing Southerners say when they want to talk trash about somebody without sounding mean. (I mean, we ARE known for being polite!) And that's partially true! In fact, it's true what you've heard; that you can pretty much say anything you want about somebody if you tag "bless her/his heart" on the end.
Examples:
"She's ugly as dirt, bless her heart."
"He's dumber than a rock, bless his heart."
"She's fat as mud, bless her heart."
(Notice the poetic use of simile!) :-)
Now granted, it's still not especially nice to say those things about people out loud, or even to think them in our heads. But when you tag "bless his/her heart" on the end, what you're essentially saying is, "Sure, they have flaws, but I still love them. I empathize with them. I accept them!"
(Ok, maybe that's not what EVERYONE means, but it's what most people mean when they use the phrase that way. I think. I hope!)
The other way to use the phrase is when expressing true, genuine sympathy or empathy for the person. In this case, you can state the observation directly TO the person.
Examples:
(To an 8 1/2 months pregnant woman): Honey, your feet must be killing you, bless your heart!
(To a person who expresses that they have a headache/various other ailment): Well, I hope you get to feeling better, bless your heart!
If you REALLY, REALLY mean it, you can even add the word "little" in for emphasis. An appropriate time to use this special form would be if someone gave you a delightful and unexpected gift.
"Well, bless your little heart! You didn't have to do that!"
So there you have it. Yes, it can be used to try to sugarcoat an insult, but it also has several other usages, and its usefulness shouldn't be underestimated. Such a simple phrase, but so many complex meanings.
Go ahead, throw it into a conversation! You won't be able to stop.
Bless your heart.
Showing posts with label Southernisms. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Southernisms. Show all posts
Saturday, July 10, 2010
Friday, July 9, 2010
Cast of Characters
The South has no scarcity of characters who do things just a little differently. Maybe they march to the beat of their own drum. Maybe they see things that other people don't quite see. Some people call it "crazy," and they mean it in a negative, cutting way. In the South, "crazy" doesn't mean they need to be locked up, or thrown away, or removed from polite society. It just means they are a little different, and everybody knows it, and life just goes on. Julia Sugarbaker explains it rather clearly:
"Designing Women" is one of my all-time favorite shows, because it shows Southern women who are smart, sassy, independent, and full of snappy come-backs. My favorite character is Julie Sugarbaker, the older sister of Suzanne and the owner of the interior design company. My daddy has always said that my sister and I are just like Julia and Suzanne... I'm the independent older one with the snappy one-liners, and Alaina is the ditsy former beauty queen who is always doing something so crazy that you just have to laugh. I guess he's pretty much right.
I love this scene where Julia explains crazy people in the South, because she speaks the truth. Every small town in the Southern United States has at least one major town character, and some have quite a few. These are individuals who just do their own thing, in their own way, and everybody knows it and is fine with it. Allow me to give you a few examples:
Tater Owens: When my mama was growing up, there was an alcoholic painter that wandered around the community. If he came to your house, you had to hide your vanilla extract and shoe polish because he was known to drink ANYTHING. Once, while painting the bathroom, he drank my grandpa's Hai Karate Aftershave. Everybody knew that's just how he was though, and everybody hired him to paint anyway. One time my grandma asked him to stay for dinner, and when they passed him the plate of dinner rolls, he just stabbed one with his fork. My uncle gave him a ride to the softball field one day to watch the church league game. On the way, Tater imparted these words of wisdom:
"You better get you an education son, because that's one thing nobody can take away from you....... unless they shoot you in the head."
Well.
I think there's nothing more to be said about that!
Roscoe: Roscoe was an elderly African-American man who lived in my hometown and wandered around town wearing about 10 layers of shirts and coats even in the summer, pushing a lawn mower everywhere. He cut grass for a living, and pretty much everybody let him cut their grass. My great-grandpa and grandpa had both sort of looked out for him over the years, and he came over a lot. Sometimes, his lawn mower would break down and he would just go into my grandpa's garage when he wasn't home, get Papa's lawn mover and push it down the street, cut some grass with it, and then push it back. He saw nothing wrong with doing this, and my Papa just let him keep doing it.
One time, when I was young, my daddy got Roscoe to come cut our grass. Daddy picked him up in the truck and brought him over, and he spent about 30 minutes sitting down and drinking lemonade. Then he started cutting, and he cut so slowly that if he had gone one bit slower, he would have been standing still. He stopped for several more long lemonade breaks. While he was sitting there, he admired our hanging ferns.
"I sure do like that fern," he kept saying, so Mama finally said, "Well, Roscoe, would you like to take it home?"
"I believe I would," he said.
Then Roscoe discovered that we had a plastic garden frog that had a sensor in it, so that when something passed in front of it, it would croak. This delighted Roscoe to no end. He walked back and forth in front of it until the battery went dead.
About this time, Mama had lunch ready. Roscoe came in and we ate hotdogs. Daddy came home for lunch, and saw that Roscoe had cut about 10% of the yard and he was never going to get done at this rate. Daddy went out and cut the rest of the yard in less time than it had taken Roscoe to cut the 10%.
Then Roscoe finished his hot dogs. And got his fern. And Daddy paid him as if he had cut the whole yard and took him back home in the truck.
I'm thinking about taking up grass cutting for a living myself.
Ms. Tumblin: My aunt used to know an old lady named Ms. Tumblin. She used to see numbers running across the floor and call everybody telling them about it. She said they were coming out of the heater, and she kept calling the electric company and telling them about it.
It was a gas heater.
The Monkey Lady: At a small country church just up the road, there was a lady who never could have any children. Somehow, she came to own a chimpanzee. She dressed it up in children's clothes, and brought it to church every Sunday. It sat there with her on the pew, dressed up in clothes and wearing a diaper. Nobody ever said anything about it, except one old man who was a little visually impaired.
He said, "I hate to say it, but that kid she keeps bringing to church is about the UGLIEST kid I've ever seen."
God bless the South! God bless the people that accept these individuals who just do their own thing, and live their own way, and never really cause any harm to anybody. Julia's right. We don't hide our crazy people in the attic. We bring them right out on the porch, or give them rides to the store, or serve them lemonade, or pretend we don't notice that they just brought a monkey to church.
We tell their stories. And we thank God that we live in such a fascinating, eccentric, weird, and wonderful place!
"Designing Women" is one of my all-time favorite shows, because it shows Southern women who are smart, sassy, independent, and full of snappy come-backs. My favorite character is Julie Sugarbaker, the older sister of Suzanne and the owner of the interior design company. My daddy has always said that my sister and I are just like Julia and Suzanne... I'm the independent older one with the snappy one-liners, and Alaina is the ditsy former beauty queen who is always doing something so crazy that you just have to laugh. I guess he's pretty much right.
I love this scene where Julia explains crazy people in the South, because she speaks the truth. Every small town in the Southern United States has at least one major town character, and some have quite a few. These are individuals who just do their own thing, in their own way, and everybody knows it and is fine with it. Allow me to give you a few examples:
Tater Owens: When my mama was growing up, there was an alcoholic painter that wandered around the community. If he came to your house, you had to hide your vanilla extract and shoe polish because he was known to drink ANYTHING. Once, while painting the bathroom, he drank my grandpa's Hai Karate Aftershave. Everybody knew that's just how he was though, and everybody hired him to paint anyway. One time my grandma asked him to stay for dinner, and when they passed him the plate of dinner rolls, he just stabbed one with his fork. My uncle gave him a ride to the softball field one day to watch the church league game. On the way, Tater imparted these words of wisdom:
"You better get you an education son, because that's one thing nobody can take away from you....... unless they shoot you in the head."
Well.
I think there's nothing more to be said about that!
Roscoe: Roscoe was an elderly African-American man who lived in my hometown and wandered around town wearing about 10 layers of shirts and coats even in the summer, pushing a lawn mower everywhere. He cut grass for a living, and pretty much everybody let him cut their grass. My great-grandpa and grandpa had both sort of looked out for him over the years, and he came over a lot. Sometimes, his lawn mower would break down and he would just go into my grandpa's garage when he wasn't home, get Papa's lawn mover and push it down the street, cut some grass with it, and then push it back. He saw nothing wrong with doing this, and my Papa just let him keep doing it.
One time, when I was young, my daddy got Roscoe to come cut our grass. Daddy picked him up in the truck and brought him over, and he spent about 30 minutes sitting down and drinking lemonade. Then he started cutting, and he cut so slowly that if he had gone one bit slower, he would have been standing still. He stopped for several more long lemonade breaks. While he was sitting there, he admired our hanging ferns.
"I sure do like that fern," he kept saying, so Mama finally said, "Well, Roscoe, would you like to take it home?"
"I believe I would," he said.
Then Roscoe discovered that we had a plastic garden frog that had a sensor in it, so that when something passed in front of it, it would croak. This delighted Roscoe to no end. He walked back and forth in front of it until the battery went dead.
About this time, Mama had lunch ready. Roscoe came in and we ate hotdogs. Daddy came home for lunch, and saw that Roscoe had cut about 10% of the yard and he was never going to get done at this rate. Daddy went out and cut the rest of the yard in less time than it had taken Roscoe to cut the 10%.
Then Roscoe finished his hot dogs. And got his fern. And Daddy paid him as if he had cut the whole yard and took him back home in the truck.
I'm thinking about taking up grass cutting for a living myself.
Ms. Tumblin: My aunt used to know an old lady named Ms. Tumblin. She used to see numbers running across the floor and call everybody telling them about it. She said they were coming out of the heater, and she kept calling the electric company and telling them about it.
It was a gas heater.
The Monkey Lady: At a small country church just up the road, there was a lady who never could have any children. Somehow, she came to own a chimpanzee. She dressed it up in children's clothes, and brought it to church every Sunday. It sat there with her on the pew, dressed up in clothes and wearing a diaper. Nobody ever said anything about it, except one old man who was a little visually impaired.
He said, "I hate to say it, but that kid she keeps bringing to church is about the UGLIEST kid I've ever seen."
God bless the South! God bless the people that accept these individuals who just do their own thing, and live their own way, and never really cause any harm to anybody. Julia's right. We don't hide our crazy people in the attic. We bring them right out on the porch, or give them rides to the store, or serve them lemonade, or pretend we don't notice that they just brought a monkey to church.
We tell their stories. And we thank God that we live in such a fascinating, eccentric, weird, and wonderful place!
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Southernism #1: Casseroles
I know it's been a long time since I wrote. I've been a little busy! I finished my master's degree, taught 2 maternity leaves for teachers who had babies, and I've been frantically searching for my own teaching job for the past few months. But God is good, and I got my job, and our new house is hopefully just a month or so away from being started, and life can now resume. And now that that's out of the way, one to my first Southernism: Casseroles.
If you've never had the pleasure of eating a truly good casserole, (be it chicken, vegetable, green bean, squash, hashbrown, broccoli, etc.) then all I have to say is, "Bless your heart!" Now I know some people turn up their nose when they think of a casserole. They picture a gloopy, gooey mess that was born when somebody cleaned out their pantry and just dumped everything in a dish and baked it. However, that is not the case. A casserole has several distinct parts, and I'm about to explain them to you.
First: The "Base" (I made that term up, but you'll get the picture)
The base is whatever the casserole is BASED on (I'm so clever!) For example, in Chicken casserole, that would be the chicken. In squash casserole, the squash. Got it? Good. Usually this part goes in first. If it's a meat, it will be ccoked first. Depending on the casserole, it might have chopped vegetables (celery, onion, carrot, etc.) added to it, or seasonings.
Second: The "Binder" (made that up, too)
I'm calling the second part the binder because it binds everything together. It's some kind of liquid, and it is very often a can of cream of something soup. The most popular are cream of mushroom, cream of chicken, or cream of celery. Sometimes this might be mixed with some mayonnaise or sour cream, or something like that to give it some zing. This part of the casserole usually goes on next. There are TWO possible ways to achieve this: you can MIX it in the base, or just pour it all over the top. Doesn't make a huge difference which way you do it. Just a preference!
Third: The "Bread"
The bread layer is not usually an actual bread. Most often it's crushed up crackers, bread crumbs, corn flakes, or stuffing mix. It is often mixed with melted butter so it won't come out bone dry. This is often the top layer. HOWEVER (important!) if your casserole includes a layer of shredded cheddar cheese, it will go on the top before the bread layer. If you're feeling really daring, you might even choose to stir together the base, binder, AND cheese, but you will NEVER stir the bread into it. It always sits right on top, because nobody wants soggy bread chunks floating in the middle of their delicious casserole.
Finally: The Baking. Most casseroles bake for about 30-45 minutes at about 350 until golden brown, bubbly, and fragrant :-)
Okay, now that you know what a casserole IS, let me tell you what it DOES. A casserole can soothe the soul. Every good Southerner knows that in any tragedy, a casserole brought to the door will almost always be a welcome comfort. Why? Because of casseroles' other magical power: they almost all freeze beautifully. ("It's in the Freezes Beautifully section of my cookbook, and I want something that freezes beautifully!" Name that classic Southern movie!) You can take them over frozen, and then the recipients of this warm gooey goodness can put it away and then pull it out at a time when they don't feel like cooking and have a meal in minutes. Casseroles are excellent for the following times of tragedy or stress: deaths, illnesses, operations, financial hardships, and childbirth. Of course, you may think of other times when a casserole would be just the ticket, and you are probably right. I could go on and explain the list of other foods that are appropriate (ok, necessary) at a time of tragedy, but that's for a later time. For now, just don't fight the urge. Go grab something delicious, pour some cream of something soup over it, top it with cheese if desired, slap on a layer of breading, and pop that thing in the over and just TRY to turn your nose up at a casserole again once you've experience one. This isn't cuisine, baby doll.... it's comfort food!
If you've never had the pleasure of eating a truly good casserole, (be it chicken, vegetable, green bean, squash, hashbrown, broccoli, etc.) then all I have to say is, "Bless your heart!" Now I know some people turn up their nose when they think of a casserole. They picture a gloopy, gooey mess that was born when somebody cleaned out their pantry and just dumped everything in a dish and baked it. However, that is not the case. A casserole has several distinct parts, and I'm about to explain them to you.
First: The "Base" (I made that term up, but you'll get the picture)
The base is whatever the casserole is BASED on (I'm so clever!) For example, in Chicken casserole, that would be the chicken. In squash casserole, the squash. Got it? Good. Usually this part goes in first. If it's a meat, it will be ccoked first. Depending on the casserole, it might have chopped vegetables (celery, onion, carrot, etc.) added to it, or seasonings.
Second: The "Binder" (made that up, too)
I'm calling the second part the binder because it binds everything together. It's some kind of liquid, and it is very often a can of cream of something soup. The most popular are cream of mushroom, cream of chicken, or cream of celery. Sometimes this might be mixed with some mayonnaise or sour cream, or something like that to give it some zing. This part of the casserole usually goes on next. There are TWO possible ways to achieve this: you can MIX it in the base, or just pour it all over the top. Doesn't make a huge difference which way you do it. Just a preference!
Third: The "Bread"
The bread layer is not usually an actual bread. Most often it's crushed up crackers, bread crumbs, corn flakes, or stuffing mix. It is often mixed with melted butter so it won't come out bone dry. This is often the top layer. HOWEVER (important!) if your casserole includes a layer of shredded cheddar cheese, it will go on the top before the bread layer. If you're feeling really daring, you might even choose to stir together the base, binder, AND cheese, but you will NEVER stir the bread into it. It always sits right on top, because nobody wants soggy bread chunks floating in the middle of their delicious casserole.
Finally: The Baking. Most casseroles bake for about 30-45 minutes at about 350 until golden brown, bubbly, and fragrant :-)
Okay, now that you know what a casserole IS, let me tell you what it DOES. A casserole can soothe the soul. Every good Southerner knows that in any tragedy, a casserole brought to the door will almost always be a welcome comfort. Why? Because of casseroles' other magical power: they almost all freeze beautifully. ("It's in the Freezes Beautifully section of my cookbook, and I want something that freezes beautifully!" Name that classic Southern movie!) You can take them over frozen, and then the recipients of this warm gooey goodness can put it away and then pull it out at a time when they don't feel like cooking and have a meal in minutes. Casseroles are excellent for the following times of tragedy or stress: deaths, illnesses, operations, financial hardships, and childbirth. Of course, you may think of other times when a casserole would be just the ticket, and you are probably right. I could go on and explain the list of other foods that are appropriate (ok, necessary) at a time of tragedy, but that's for a later time. For now, just don't fight the urge. Go grab something delicious, pour some cream of something soup over it, top it with cheese if desired, slap on a layer of breading, and pop that thing in the over and just TRY to turn your nose up at a casserole again once you've experience one. This isn't cuisine, baby doll.... it's comfort food!
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Southerners
I can't deny it, not would I really want to. I'm a Southerner; always have been, always will be. But I know for a lot of people, the word "Southerner" conjures up a lot of stereotypes. Granted, some have a grain of truth behind them, as many stereotypes do. But I want you to consider this: ignorant, redneck people are NOT exclusive to the South. If you have any doubts, pay a visit to Peopleofwalmart.com. There you will clearly see that rednecks (mullets, missing teeth, and all) can be found all across our beautiful country. And to further dispel some of the myths about Southerners, I will give you some quick facts about myself.
I do NOT have a mullet. Never have, never will.
None of my family members have mullets either.
I am not married to my cousin.
I still have all the teeth I've ever had. I've never even had a cavity.
I have never attended a chicken fight, dirt track race, or Nascar event.
I almost never deep- fry anything I cook at home.
I don't drown everything in butter.
I don't even really like gravy or grits that much.
I don't own a single hound dog.
I have never held any beliefs about the South rising again.
I love all types of people in the world.
I would never use a racial slur, ever.
In spite of my Southern accent, I was able to earn a college degree. Several, actually.
If I see you around town, I will most likely smile, wave, and hold the door open for you.
I may even speak to you in the grocery line.
So don't be afraid of us Southerners! Don't judge us by our accent, or lump us all together as a group. Just like any other group of people, there is no one-size-fits-all definition of a Southerner. We're just like everyone else really.
Except Yankees. Everybody knows you can't trust a Yankee :-)
I do NOT have a mullet. Never have, never will.
None of my family members have mullets either.
I am not married to my cousin.
I still have all the teeth I've ever had. I've never even had a cavity.
I have never attended a chicken fight, dirt track race, or Nascar event.
I almost never deep- fry anything I cook at home.
I don't drown everything in butter.
I don't even really like gravy or grits that much.
I don't own a single hound dog.
I have never held any beliefs about the South rising again.
I love all types of people in the world.
I would never use a racial slur, ever.
In spite of my Southern accent, I was able to earn a college degree. Several, actually.
If I see you around town, I will most likely smile, wave, and hold the door open for you.
I may even speak to you in the grocery line.
So don't be afraid of us Southerners! Don't judge us by our accent, or lump us all together as a group. Just like any other group of people, there is no one-size-fits-all definition of a Southerner. We're just like everyone else really.
Except Yankees. Everybody knows you can't trust a Yankee :-)
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