Southern State of Mind

This post comes to you from Jackson, Mississippi.  I'm actually on vacation this week - and it's weird, being on vacation.  On one hand, it's been easy to detach myself.  But on the other, I feel kind of bored - and missing the beach.  I really need to make it to a beach this summer.

BUT I love being here in Mississippi.  It's a part of me.  As soon as I walked into my aunt's home and then my gram's home, I felt like "I'm home...this is me."  I think part of it is the fact that my taste and style is so influenced by my Southern roots.  I love decorating, but there is a distinct way that I like to decorate (I'm not one to copy a catalog's pictures) - and it is matched by the decor in my Gram and Aunt's home (and of course my Mom's).  It just is so fun and reassuring to see your own taste reflected in someone else's home.

I love being here!  I have probably said the word "Cute" at least a hundred times already, but being here dictates that compliments and praising of each other's outfits, decor, jewelry, hair and/or any piece of the surrounding area that the conversation is taking place requires that it be commented on and declared "Cute".  It is common courtesy and in fact, it might be taken as a slight if nothing is said.

I love being here - I love getting to talk with my 93-year old Great Grandmother about what happened that night on "Are You Smarter Than a Fifth Grader?" and treasuring every moment, no matter how mundane, of being in her presence.  I love that she has had her white Cadillac for twelve years and only has put 40,000 miles on it.  Sharp as a tack, completing the daily crossword and commenting on your mistakes that you've made on the puzzle if you haven't figured it out yet, she is a delight to be around.  The history that she's lived through, the things she's seen - it is a wealth of immeasurable treasure.

It's a part of me - I come from a strong stock of women.  This past Sunday, my mom told me a piece of my early history that I had never known before.  My dad was in the Marines when I was born - and both of my parents were young.  My mom was only 24 when she had me.  And almost a week after I was born, my dad had to ship off to Panama for 10 weeks.  During those 10 weeks she lived with her parents in Maryland.  When my dad got back from his cruise, he was home for a couple of weeks, during which time my Granddad, my mom's dad, passed away suddenly from a heart attack.  And then my mom had to endure my dad shipping off again shortly after that.  I don't know how she had the strength to endure taking care of me without my dad, mourn the sudden loss of her own father, comfort her grieving mother, all without the support of my dad - but she did.  And when I'm around my Gram, my Great-Grandmother, and Aunt, I realize where she got that strength - and that strength and force of personality is within me too.

I love the idiosyncrasies of being here in Mississippi, the deep South.  I love how my latent Southern accent comes back when I'm here.  Cooking, gardening, decorating, styling - it's the South and it's a part of me.  I love being here.

Book Review: The Help

The Help by Kathryn Stockett

My rating: 5 of 5 stars
It has been a little over a week since I picked up this book and entered the world of 1960s Jackson, Mississippi. Recommended by my best friend and intrigued that the author herself is from Mississippi, I had high expectations for the book and it did not disappoint.

What this book really illuminated for me is the fact of how deeply rooted race relation issues are and how segregation was a REAL fact of life not that long ago. If you really think about, the 1960s was only 40 years ago - that is not a long time. Especially when you are trying to overcome such deeply-rooted cultural issues that are taught from generation to generation. For some reason, though I have been taught extensively about the Civil Rights era and "know" how terrible segregation was, I never knew how actually terrible it was, and for some reason this book was able to get me to see that truth.

The voices of the main characters (there are three) that Stockett created are so genuine and real and they leap up from the page and engulf you in their world, their thoughts, their emotions, and each of their unique struggles. Two of the characters are black maids for different white families and the other is a young college-educated white woman from Jackson who starts a "journey" and the two maids end up joining along with her. It is a journey through society, familial expectations, friendships, love, and race relations in 1960s Mississippi.

I love how the author treats Mississippi compassionately and yet candidly relates the reality of that time. Her writing reflects the deep love I have for the South, and particularly Mississippi since I have familial roots and ties there. But I am also not naive to the fact that there are still deep-seeded race issues that exist there.

I highly recommend this book - I do think it is a must read - but I also hope that the reader who picks up this book will have the same mix of compassion and outrage that the author conveys for her state and people and not just contempt for "ignorant" Mississippi people, because then I believe you will miss the entire point and beauty of the story - that the same prejudices and chains that bind these characters can only be broken when we realize we are all just the same - and that is a much more difficult journey than we realize.

**UPDATE** The more I let the memory of this book germinate, the more I determine how much I loved it, so I have to give it 5 stars. Especially in light of the last book I read, this book is above and beyond...

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