Saved In a Cornfield: My Great-Grandfather’s Conversion by M. R. Byrd
SLS. Although I live and teach in Oak Park, IL, I was born and raised in Covington, Kentucky, the Gateway to the South. My ancestors moved to Kentucky just after it was made the 15th state, coming from Virginia, North Carolina, and Tennessee. Although we lived just a stone's throw from Cincinnati, a Yankee town, we proudly aligned ourselves with the South and its heritage.
Of Mothers and Whores by Coco Papy
Southern Legitimacy Statement:
I do solemnly swear, that I am a child of the low-country, spanish moss ways, though transplanted among the concrete jungle known as New York City (please dear friends, do not hold this against me). That I was born and raised in the traditions of superstition and folklore, of witches, ghosts, and of food that comes from bottom barrel hunger, for necessity is the ruler of invention. That even as I had unfortunately shed my accent and so many of my mannerisms, for fear of being found out as southern, that I have seen the error of my ways, and there is no other place I can call home. I am from the tribe of y'all and might could, of women who have ruled the roost while segregated to backrooms. I am 3,000 miles from the shores of where I came from, and never more than now, closer to home.
An Honest Trade by Angie Mayfield
Southern Legitimacy Statement:
When we discussed the vocabulary word "paradox" this week in my English class, my students said, "Why, that's you, Mayfield - an educated redneck!" I guess my twang - and the deer head in my office - are dead giveaways. My colleagues eat salads, talk of fashion and pampered pets, and decorate their offices with pottery and plants. As they gab and giggle, I nibble on squirrel and dumplins and read my Mules and More magazine. "What are you doing this weekend?" one asks, and I say, "Riding my mule." Their eyes grow large, they gather their plates and utensils, and they flee the area for more civilized settings. I smile and stretch out. "Finally."
September 2013 is complete!
It's not officially Fall but it sure is a great day out there in eastern NC. How about yall? Everyone ok?
Hope Denney “Waiting for the Undertaker” [flash fiction]
Southern Legitimacy Statement: When you’re a half Jewish girl from Tennessee with a heavy Appalachian accent, people really don’t know how to take you.
Thom Bassett “Keep It In There” [flash fiction]
Southern Legitimacy Statement: I confuse the nice old ladies at my Rhode Island supermarket by asking for my groceries to put in a paper *sack instead of a bag. I'm an atheist Jew who thinks "Leaning on the Everlasting Arms" is the prettiest hymn. I call hymns and lots of other things "pretty." I get red in the face when people don't say "excuse me" or "thank you" in public intercourse. Because I believe in decorous public intercourse. Atlanta doesn't feel Southern to me. Hell, small towns in Massachusetts have more of the South in them than Atlanta. Or Dallas. Or Nashville, I say.
Heather Adams “Warmer Over Here” [flash fiction]
Southern Legitimacy Statement: Honey, my southern roots go way back - at least four generations of my family have been born and raised in western North Carolina.
Ashley Fields “Legacy” [flash fiction]
SLS:
I never thought I was very southern until my neighbor from California came over early one morning. We were going through a "lifestyle change," and she had arrived to drag me out for an early morning jog. She went into conniptions when she saw what I was eating - a country ham biscuit dipped in red eye gravy. Cholesterol, calories, carbs, oh my! It hit me that I was southern through and through when I very calmly told her "Something's bound to get me eventually," got another biscuit and a helping of grits smothered in butter, and ate to my heart's content.
Mark Vogel: Poetry: Three Powerful Poems
Southern Legitimacy Statement: Mark Vogel has lived in the back of a Blue Ridge holler for the past twenty two years with ducks, cats, dogs, horses, and his family. He teaches English at Appalachian State University.
Craig Owens: Two Poems
SLS: I used to joke that if you looked in the dictionary under Appalachian, you would find my picture. My father was a coal miner, one of the most recognizable Appalachian occupations, for more than 35 years before lung cancer claimed him. My mother worked in a textile factory, yet another typical Appalachian occupation, until her hands gave out and she was forced to retire. I am a combination of the veins of coal and the threads of cloth that hold Appalachia together, but my parents demanded something different for me and from me. I now teach English, I write poetry and fiction, I travel as often as I can, and I am Appalachian through and through. I might not be the first image that comes to mind of an Appalachian man, but I definitely am Appalachian. I take some pride in that, and, if truth be told, in surprising people too.
“Pretty, Black, Shiny Shoes” by Dean Stracener
Southern Legitimacy Statement: I was born in 1934 in Tuscaloosa County, Alabama in a house that didn't have indoor plumbing. I was only seven-years-old when we moved to Mobile, AL. Except for a few months in Fla. and a few weeks in Saint Louis, I have always lived in Alabama. I always loved to write, even when I was a kid. I was married for eleven years and divorced, married for 32 years and widowed. I am quite well and happy.
“Not Nihilistic” by Pete Armetta
SOUTHERN STATEMENT
I'm a Native New Yorker who's now Southern. When I came here I didn't think it'd get a hold on me, but it did. Living in Charlottesville, VA via too many other places to count, it's now a life of mountains and big sky and dogwoods and hawks. Of back roads and wood- burning stoves. Of bourbon and mint from the garden in May and swimming in the river in August. It's the long talks with old-timers of how their descendants were run out of what's now Shenandoah National Park-mountain people getting by as moonshiners. And it's standing on the grounds of Thomas Jefferson's University of Virginia, with the columns of its Rotunda and his ghost and magnolias and people from the world over. Just like me. It's the slow pace of living that's tamed me. And I never planned it.
“Our Nativity – 1970” by Dawn Wilson
Southern Legitimacy Statement: My sister used to experiment on me. At the age of twelve, she taught me how to do a Southern accent--and I got stuck. I couldn't get rid of it. The phone rang, back in the day when you couldn't get rid of telemarketers, so my sister started making me answer it with my fake Scarlett O'Hara oh be still mah beatin' heart accent--and she didn't stop laughing for three years.
Suzannah Gilman: Three Poems
True, I was born in California and grew up in Florida, which is such a melting pot that it’s not really the south—not unless you’re in Clewiston or Macclenny or Bithlo or someplace like that-- but I'm still a southern girl. I say “Bless her heart” after I say something unflattering about someone (I won’t admit to gossip), and that’s about as southern as you can get. My legitimacy honorable mentions: I had a Mawmaw and Pawpaw, I used to say “anyways,” and I still say “yall.”
Poetry
Essays
