“Have Someone Play Dixie for Me”

The end of January I celebrated my 75^th birthday.  It is hard to believe I have been alive for three quarters of a century!  While I have the majority of my life behind me, I do have excellent genetic makeup for longevity and I continuously work on a healthy lifestyle.  My Dad is 103 and still active and enjoying life. 

Of course, like everyone else, I sometimes consider that this life is only temporary and to appreciate each day we have and try to make a difference, even if only a small one.  I am a Southerner, by birth and choice.  I lived the first forty years of my life in the south and in the thirty five years since my love for “Dixie” and things Southern has not changed.  My Mama made me a plaque years ago that said “American by Birth, Southern by the Grace of God”.  I think for me that is true.

In recent months, I have had several conversations with people about the South.  I always enjoy the discourse from those who are not native Southerners.  While their truth and views of the south are understandably different from mine, I only ask that anyone consider history and try to avoid stereotypes and appreciate the uniqueness and goodness of the South.

People I meet with often notice and point out that I “talk funny”; yes it is not only the accent but sometimes phrasing and colloquialisms.  I choose to embrace my accent and say that my trips back to the South are refresher courses.  I love to hear native Southerners ask “How Ya’ll doin’?”  Frequently, in my own life I will say I am “fixin’ to get ready to”; I don’t want to ever lose that uniqueness that ties me to Dixie.  And just because I embrace my accent does not mean I am ignorant, uneducated or bigoted.  It is just how I learned to talk.

The South that I loved and am still in love with is a place of class and graciousness.

Ladies wore hats and gloves.  A lady never had “bare” legs.  Girls wore dresses to school and either socks or tights.  Men opened car doors and walked on the outside on the sidewalk.  Southern women were feminine but their strength and resolve was unmatched.

There were teas and baby and bridal showers.  Thank you notes were mandatory for all gifts.  People sent cards for birthdays, anniversaries, weddings, births and sympathy.  We wrote letters.

In times of death, there were always meals taken to the family.  Cars pulled over on the side of the road and men would get out and take off their hats as the funeral procession passed.

We went to Grandma’s on Sunday afternoon.  Parents and Grandparents birthdays were remembered with cards, gifts and visits.  There were family reunions, picnics and other gatherings.  We knew our extended family and cousins were like siblings.

Summer time was barefoot, making clover chains.  Going to the swimming pool, bike rides and catching “lightning bugs”, Vacation Bible School was an event.

Mama and Daddy would take me to the Atlanta High Museum of Art, to the Fox Theatre and to the Varsity!  We would go to Davison’s (later Macy’s) when my Grandma Parish worked there and have supper at the S&W Cafeteria.

There were thunderstorms and puddles.  Ice and snow storms and days out of school.  I played in the woods behind our house with the neighbor kids.

These are my “treasures” and memories of the south.  It was a special time and I am fortunate to have been in that place at that time.  These are the things I think about.  This is my “South” my “Dixie”.

And when this life has concluded and I have moved on to the next it is my desire to be cremated and buried next to my Grandma in Georgia.  I will have gone full circle.

“When they lower me down in that Sweet Georgia ground, have someone play Dixie for me”

 (Song and Lyrics by Dry Branch Fire Squad)

Note:  I first heard “Have Someone Play Dixie for Me” in Telluride, Colorado at Blue Grass festival in the Early 2000’s.