I’ve seen a lot of changes in the South during my lifetime. I grew up in a small, Southern town during the 1960s. The town had one street called Main Street, where a person could get just about everything they needed. When I was a little girl, we had one movie theater that played Gone with the Wind all the time. We didn’t sing “Dixie” in school or wave the rebel flag over my hometown. But I do remember separate waiting rooms for black and white patients at the town clinic. I remember asking my mother why we had to sit in the room on the right. My question was promptly shushed while eyes rolled silently. One time, I asked the lady who cared for me if it bothered her that all the people on television were white. Just like Aibileen in the book, The Help by Katheryn Stockett, she explained that all folks are the same beneath the skin, that the love inside a person’s heart is what matters.

I grew up during a time of change in our country, especially the South. A wide-eyed child of the 60s, I watched cautiously as division started to disappear in the South. When our schools became desegregated, so did our lives. My generation raced along with the changing times, creating a gentle and accepting breed of Americans. We learned to think objectively in shades of gray rather than black and white. At least, that’s what I remember about coming of age in the hip 1970s. Over the years, I continued to embrace my changing society. I welcomed new faces and accepted new ideas that enhanced the world around me. Around the turn of the century, I proudly watched my beloved South move from Dixie to diversity.

While watching the election coverage this week, I began to question how far we’ve come. There seemed to be too much red and blue on the map without the shades of gray that soften our world. The South I knew as a child taught me to judge with my heart, not by skin color or political views. In those gentler days, folks just did the best they could in life and got along. Graphic violence hadn’t hit the big screen yet, and the easygoing philosophy of “The Andy Griffith Show” ruled the day. Maybe it’s time to take a few lessons from the past and have a glass of lemonade with our neighbors on the front porch.

Thanks for joining me for Southern Sunday.

Alle

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