Category Archives: The South

May 28, 1963



Okay, I won’t quarrel with cause/effect/outcome. I will quote a wise southern woman who lived through it all :

“Non-violence does violence to us all.”

It is my opinion that Americans who by birthright were entitled to every right and responsibility of citizenship should never have had to survive years of that particular iteration of racist domestic terrorism to be able to exercise those rights. Many did not survive, black and white, and I, for one, will never forgive our government for a single death or attack from the first sit-in forward.


Some of you on another site know my righteous Curmudgeon Alerts on language, grammar, and usage. File this under issues having to do with my rants against The Help:

Waiting to board the first leg of a flight from Salt Lake City where Charlie and I had visited two of his elderly relatives and then spent a few days skiing with friends (C. skied; I hiked) an elderly African-American woman arrived at the boarding area in a wheelchair pushed by an airport staff person.

The woman in the wheelchair was heavyset, wearing a dark brown pants suit and a wig of similar color (both polyester) and dark sensible shoes. She held a sturdy cane. At one point we smiled and nodded (a generational courtesy I grew up with.)

The flight landed at the Ohio/Kentucky airport behind schedule. Concerned about making our connection to Boston, as soon as the aisle cleared for our row to exit I grabbed my coat, my handbag, and wheeling my carry-on behind me, all but sprinted to the front of the plane.

Because packing light sometimes means wearing heavier items to be able to close the suitcase, I had on a favorite colorful blue/green cable knit heavy sweater, blue jeans, and bright red felt Land’s End snow boots with thick soles.

As I reached the door, one of the FAs said something I didn’t totally catch as I rushed by (she really did have a Dixie drawl) but that ended in “… will be right there waiting for you.” Hoping she meant our connecting flight, I stopped, said “sorry, I didn’t quite hear…” and was told that my wheelchair would be right outside the door waiting for me (!)

I guess we really all do look alike. God bless the South.

P.S. I should be clear that it really was a fantastic and delightful week- – just couldn’t resist telling this All-American story.