I Don't Think We're in The South Anymore

Thanks to a very thoughtful neighbor's invitation, I attended a Mothers of Preschoolers meeting last week. It was nice to meet some ladies and realize moms everywhere face the same challenges and frustrations. But the experience did make it painfully clear that I'm no longer in the South.

The 50 or so of us moms were treated to a very a nice brunch that included at least a dozen homemade casseroles and sweets along with fresh fruit, veggies, coffee and juice. It was not a bad spread. I was quite well-fed.

We did just eat, right?

Here's the thing though. Not one person commented on the food. No one asked who made which dish so they could pay the ultimate compliment by asking for the recipe. No one went back for seconds and then joked their weight. 

I was lost. What do I talk about with these strangers if not the food we just ate? 

Luckily, a mom at my table saved me. Turns out, she - a native Kansan - went to Carson Newman University. This was fortuitous. I could talk about home with someone who - even though she called them the "Appalayshun" Mountains - has actually experienced my beloved Tennessee firsthand.

During our chat, she revealed that she thinks people are nicer in Tennessee than in Kansas. Now I've run into quite a few very kind folks during my brief time here, so her comment got me thinking. Is there a big difference between people in Kansas and Tennessee?

Fire and Ice

While residents of both states are helpful and friendly, people in Kansas keep you at arm's length. I wouldn't say they're cold. They just don't want to get overly personal. No one here cares who "my people" are, and they really don't expect to hear my life story. (Their loss, of course).

I think that's the biggest difference. At home, complete strangers truly want to know which set of Hawkins County Lawsons you call family. (In my case, it ain't the good ones.) People want to know who you're related to and where you went to high school. That's the only way you can discover if someone's first cousin took you to the junior prom, right? 

It's just not like that in Kansas. Your name, rank and serial number are all that's required.

Of course, there have been plenty of other reminders that I'm no longer living among my Southern brethren.

Sweet tea should not involve artificial sweetener.

Period. Enough said.

Indeed, taste does matter Mickey Ds. Please use real sugar.

There's only one Cracker Barrel in all of Wichita. 

Wichita is actually bigger in population than Knoxville and Chattanooga combined, yet these fine Tennessee cities boast six Cracker Barrel restaurants. (And that's just counting the locations with Knoxville or Chattanooga in the address. I'm certain there are others in the vicinity that would increase my unofficial count). I mean really. Without more Cracker Barrels around, how can I be expected to decorate my house?

There aren't any Shoney's at all. My kids are starving to death.


I like bacon grease.

I also recently attended a Pampered Chef party where the consultant spent several minutes discussing the wonders of preparing bacon on a baking stone in the oven.

Doesn't everyone have one of these?

"The stone actually absorbs all the bacon's grease, so you don't have to clean up the mess that comes with frying bacon," she helpfully advised.

Again, I'm confused. I literally had to bite my tongue to keep from asking how she would season her green beans or cornbread if she didn't keep some bacon drippings in a jelly jar in the fridge. I decided that was not the best time to reveal my inner East Tennessee redneck and bought myself a fancy new baking stone instead.

Oh, I'm sure the time is coming. I can only contain it so long before it busts out and embarrasses not just my family, but Tennesseans everywhere. I apologize in advance.