I miss my Southern Accent…

Inspired by a conversation with Ms. No Beans…..

I have been out of the south now for almost 7 years. It seems like such a long time ago since I was there. I miss it so. I never new I would miss it. There are a lot of things I left in the south my family, my home, myself, and my accent. Well the last one depends on who you ask. You see down south your accent is not just speak easy. It’s the way we talk, how we recognize each other, it’s a way to identify each other; one of your own. 

Seven years ago way back in 2001 if you can imagine it a young boy age of 20 who had long ago left his home for great promise in the Army. Now do not fool yourself this boy never joined the Army for promise of education or riches, he joined to find himself some. He wanted to be someone he wasn’t. He wanted to be a straight man that got married and lived in the finest trailer park there was in the south. Just kidding about that last part.  Seriously though, he was just a confused boy/man trying to win approval from his dad. Joining the Army was the only time his dad had ever expressed any sort of compassion or love for him.

This story though is not about that, this story is about a man on a journey to accept that he has a southern accent.  Traveling all over the world and being exposed to things he had never done before, these things were eye opening to say the least. The boy longed for the sophistication he saw on PBS. He wanted to appreciate the art paintings of Michelangelo, Picaso, Da Vinci, and not the motel motif of painted fruit he was so acustomed to seeing. Now it is worth noting the boy’s mother had grown up in a fine european family but she left that life behind when she married his father, a Marine stationed in Spain. How could she have denied the boy his birthright, she chose love. Alas, our story is also not about her or the life she left behind.

So the boy grew more into a man with each one of his life choice and of course the war would help sober him up to realize that life was his and he needed to make it what he wanted or else one day there may not be a second day. He chose to choose his words carefully and always go for pronunciation, even though he gets it wrong so often. He finds he is only comfortable speaking when he lets go and that damn southern accent creeps in. His words become long and each syllable takes a few minutes to pronounce. July becomes Joo-lye, you all becomes ya’ll, and not become ain’t. Ode to the south, teaching greatness one vocabulary lesson at a time. 

Now the time has come for the boy now a man to start a new journey. This journey is a path that he has taken twice before but each time it has been different. Will the third time change who he is, will he speak in his southern accent? He hopes so.