Dixieland Delight...

For those of you unaware as to where I have been, I figured an update was well overdue. I just moved to a quiet hamlet of Murfreesboro, North Carolina. It is peaceful here. The town is not much more than a main street and the campus. I am a football coach by trade and the nasty truth about the profession is that you are constantly moving early on in your career. I think I have found somewhere, however, that I could spend some time in and be perfectly comfortable. Though it is winter and the chill is not quite how I envisioned the American South, the grass and trees are still green. This is foreign for a guy who has lived his entire life in various frigid climates.

There is a sort of romanticism to the town. There has always been a level of romanticism to the American South as it is. Whether it is the easy-going way of it’s inhabitants, the rich history, or even Daisy Duke and the ‘General Lee’ the American South can be very captivating and alluring. I had experienced this element of southern living while visiting my parents in Arkansas but they live in a tourist and retirement community and, though it is a great place, lacks the authenticity of the area I am in now.

Murfreesboro’s demographics are something I was prepared for but did not truly comprehend. As a child, the only association I could make to the American South was it’s association with the abomination of slavery. Perhaps that is why "The Boro", with a population of exactly 50% White and 50% African Americans would seem to be difficult to grasp. Shouldn’t there be racial tension? Shouldn’t there be resentment on the part of the Black population towards the White population? Out of shear naivete, I asked these questions of a few trustworthy coworkers and they explained that the perceptions of the hostility were formed a hundred years ago and that Selma, Alabama does not speak for the rest of the South. I have been greeted with smiles, open doors, and even on a few occasions, a hug. Southern hospitality at it’s finest.

I have read the work of William Faulkner and see how he could cherish his home here in the South. I am 2 hours away from the mountains, an hour from the Atlantic Ocean, I have a driving range a mere 20 yards from the door to my office and somewhere, someone is shoveling snow. Will I be in the South for the rest of my life? I doubt it, but if that were the case, I wouldn’t complain.