This past weekend, I watched the youngest of my dad's side of the family walk across the stage and receive her high school diploma, and the honor of Salutatorian. That side of my family live outside of town...a town consisting of about 400 people...the town of Potts Camp, MS. I love going down there and a few things came to my attention.
The first is the lack of exposure to "outsiders" that a town like this experiences. I can definitely see how it would be hard to move to a town like this. I was probably the first modified person most of the denizens of this sleepy little town had ever seen. I didn't really notice, as I'm apt to do, but my mom said that heads were turning everywhere. It's not really surprising. As I looked around, I saw 3 groups of people filling the newly air conditioned gymnasium, sadly enough: the black families, the rednecks, and the...other white people. I, needless to say, didn't fit in to any of these groups of people. This would be very daunting to most people. However, I'm not completely seen as an outsider. I'm seen as "Benny's son." And "Susie's nephew." My father has been dead for 23 1/2 years, yet I can walk into a store and am instantly greeted with, "Aren't you Benny's boy?" I take great pride in that.
Though I don't live there and definitely don't fit the social mold, the people of Potts Camp have never been anything but nice to me. Because in a town that size, you're family or you're not. There's not a whole lot of in between.
On that same note, it makes me think of the good ol' Southern expression: "Bless his/her heart." This is the Southern excuse to say whatever you damn well please.
"Bless his heart, he's dumb as a bag of rocks."
"Lord, bless her heart, she's as sharp as a rusty nail."
I must have heard this phrase 100 times during the day. And I love it.
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