“Never trust a Yankee!”1
It’s not that I'd never heard it before, living as I do just a stone’s throw from the Mason Dixon line, but now – coming from her – it shocks me.2
“Nevah trust a Yankee!” she repeats, sharing what she assumes to be common knowledge with the deck full of party goers. “My Nanny taught me that.”3
It all seems so out of context coming from this self proclaimed California girl – blonde, tan, tall and slim. With surfboard ease, she catches the eye of every new arrival. But, now, amidst this stunned troup of silent Yankees, questions hesitate just long enough for all to scan the demographics around the pool -- tallying. Three Yanks – One Southern Belle.4
“But Zoë, ” queries the woman who just arrived from Jersey (exit 29 to be precise) “where are you from?”5
“California,” is her perky reply. 6
Smug smiles of understanding ripple across the water’s glistening surface.7
“Southern California!” she corrects indignantly – as if Pasadena is a hot bed of hominy grits and hog jowls.8
Her brother grins only slightly from the shade of the poolside bar. 9
“No, no!” she protests. “You’re missing my point. I learned that from my Nanny!”10
The Yankees laugh, picturing Nanny adding organic grits to her side dish of sun dried tomatoes. 11
This time the Pennsylvanian advances to lead the charge. “And just when did you dare venture from your Confederate heaven to this, our hotbed of heathens?”12
“Well…” Zoë pauses slightly with only a tinge of unsure. “Right after I left Louisiana.” 13
Her brother sputters through his sip of imported beer, knowing better than to take sides as Zoë dons her carefully battered cowboy hat.14
“Yep, LA ‘where we crack their tails and suck their heads, ” she adds with a slight drawl and swagger. With thumbs hooked inside her belt loops, she shoots a glare at her guffawing brother who now corrects the facts. 15
“South Carolina – just outside of Charleston.” His correction solidifies the unifying resolve of the growing assemblage of proud Northerners who’ve gathered around the steaming table full of succulent blue crabs.16
“Well, yeah ,” said Zoë without missing a beat. “Mississippi – where we crack their tayells and suck out thar hayeds, ” as if adding syllables will conceal her misstep. 17
As might be expected, New Jersey is the first to stop hammering long enough to step into the trap. “And just what is that supposed to mean?”18
“Crawdads – Daaaaahlin – Crawdads.” 19
On the sidelines, the Marylanders are busy extolling the superiority of the local blue crab of Delaware to the lowly crawfish when Zoë interrupts with only a tinge of retreat. 20
“But you see when I moved here, I came to respect Yankees. This one woman from DC …. mmmm… gave me my first taste of raw oyster.” Another smile of understanding crosses the lips of those within ear shot. 21
“Me, – eyes closed, letting her - a Yankee, feed me - a Southerner, an oyster. And me, never once giving a thought to getting hepatitis.” She relives the moment with a lip lick of savored shock. “She got my respect because she demanded it. Demanded it! All Yankee women do.”22
The soft spoken Pennsylvanian, lost as always, leans quietly to the New Yorker who has just pushed her way in to the table - “Do we?” Pennsylvania whispers. An abrupt New York glare cuts her off.23
Zoë continues, rapt in her self assurance. “Yep – it was that single oyster that showed me some Yankees can be trusted.”24
But it was too late. Lines had been drawn and redrawn against this Zoë woman who is more caviar than catfish. The hammering intensifies with a new sense of resolve as Zoë slips from her jeans to continue her campaign.25
“Faith Hill – now there’s a cool glass of ice tea. She’s from Mississippi. Sure could take a long drink of her, I’ll tell ya. Hell – I’d even take a shot at her husband, Tim McGraw – if I could be on top that is. Wouldn’t you, Jimmy?”26
Her brother adds his nod of silent agreement about Faith, but apparently, isn’t as interested in Tim – no matter what the position.27
And in that admission, Zoë loses any of the straggling allies she still had. As she bounces into the pool with a confident lack of concern, the Northerners rally round the table mapping their best strategy with crabs and iced mugs of beer. 28
Later, in a proxy vote taken in a lively game of horseshoes that can be called nothing but a landslide, this now sweating dish of southern caviar is given yet another healthy dose of respect from the North. 29
As the sun sets on the fading Confederate flag in the window of Zoë’s pickup, a single voice is heard to exclaim, “AH DO DECLA-UH, Yanks twenty one, Nanny – zero.”30
What did you think? Please comment!
Comments
1 - 15 of 15
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That was cute, I enjoyed it!
Raven -
This story seemed to constantly change to me. I did see this part> questions hesitate just least long enough for all to scan the demographics around the pool >doesn't sound right. questions hestitated just long enough, for all to scan the demographics around the pool.........
Good luck with your homework.
Rose
Edited on Feb 19, 2:40 p.m. because ''. -
Very well done! I can see that I have bee out-classed, yet again...lol. Wonderful story. I enjoyed it.
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Spoken like a true war buff, leo, and now that I know where the line is, I'll try not to cross it - too often.
Thank you for this and all your kindnesses.
Jane -
In the entire War of Rebellion the southerners were outnumbered. That fact didn't stop them from fighting for what they believed in. (The right to determine their own destiny. Well, enough of my slant on the Civil War. You story was a pure delight to read. You've managed to capture the charm of the South and the sophistication of the North in one short story.
Sincerely,
Leo Long
ps. I trust them thar yankees as long as they stay north of the line...lol........ just kidding. -
Most kind of you, Hugh. I certainly appreciate your applause and your in-depth read.
I had great fun playing with this one. The tough part was to capture the stereotypes without turning the characters into caricatures.
Stay well, my friend.
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Dear Jane,
I haven't a clue what inspired you to write this but it has certainly rocketted you, in the opinion of this kiwi, to the upper ranks of raconteurs extraordinaires and although there are many comments, few seem to have awarded it the applause it deserves so I will demonstrate some southern generosity.
I'm not sure that this would translate into a New Zealand scenario where English is the basic language and I can't find any Maori equivalent for hominy grits although there are nine different words for pigs' heads (depending on the method of cuisine.) I think we'll leave you to run with the baton as we writers of the deep south would say (if asked.) Applause.
Love and hugs, XXX Hugh.
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You write dialogue very well and I enjoyed many of your descriptive phrases: "this Zoe woman who is more caviar than catfish", for example. I have lived all over the world, including California, Indiana, Alabama, etc. so I get what you mean about the humor. Very witty and clever. I enjoyed this, but liked it more the second time I read it. I felt a little lost before I got to the end and knew enough about the setting to picture it in my head. That sort of distracted me and lessened the reading experience initially. Once I knew where they were and why they were there I reread it, fully focused on the dialogue and got much more out of it. It's not a bad thing...kind of an interesting technique to use the conversation to unfold their location. You did a great job on this! Thanks for the read!
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I'll look that up, silica. Thanks.
jane -
Well I hardly have aspirations as a mentor – Nando is the man for that – but as an avid reader I would say it was pretty good and as I said the accents seemed to me spot on… although I’m not very good away from a few British ones – If you want to practise dialogue, try telling a whole story in just dialogue; (no ‘he said’s’ even) – it is possible – Malcolm Bradbury did a brilliant version – in the present tense as well! Now there’s a challenge – lol.
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Ah, but there are some things about me that permit me not only to be familiar with the crab you mention, but also the participants in your conversation. Because of where I went to school and where my father grew up, I know enough about the Mason Dixon line to realize the most likely location you must be if you're a stones throw away is Maryland. You could be Virginia (someone with your love of crab is near the Chesapeake Bay), but someone on the SOUTHERN side of the line would use "The War Between the States" in the title
A special circumstance might be that you live in DC, but most who work there are in the two other states I mention.
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NoIQ,
No doubt if you'd have met her, you'd never forget her, for she truly is a character!
As for baseball - heck, I hardly understand horseshoes, so for me to try that would have been truly a good laugh.
Now, if you ever come east, you be sure to give our jumbo blues a taste test and tell me how you think they compare with those measly crawdads. (For arguments sake though, let's leave California's prawns out of the equation. They win, hands down.)
Thanks for the read. I'm beginning to feel I ought to post a regional warning sign after the title.
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silica,
Yes, I hardly thought this would have worldwide appeal, as it relies so heavily on regional history and stereotypes but I couldn't resist playing more modern squabbles off against older ones. Explaining it though, I suppose would be like beating the fun out of a joke by trying to explain it ... pointless to even try. (and now I'm trying to imagine how a similar scenario might play out in NZ... hmmm) I have to laugh too, for surely my teacher from India, will be just as puzzled with the story's references.
Largely this was done as an exercise in writing dialogue - something I've never focused on before. So what do you think, teach - did I pass?
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Lost comment from silica:
silica (im) made a comment on A Very Civil War (reply):
'I’m afraid the main drive is almost lost to me… I see as darkly in a glass the dance of south and north – I think civil wars are in fact the least civil… but there isn’t a lot to chose between any of them, sorry side tracked – some very good phrases – ‘with surfboard ease’ was great and very apposite! And you do the accents very well – I’m not that familiar with them but could hear them clearly – good stuff!
If it ever comes to it though I think I can trump your ‘deep south’ – We are quite a bit deeper in NZ… Good story, even if I couldn’t full get to grips with it I still enjoyed it!
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And to think when I saw a New Jersey participant talking with an LA woman that this story HAD to eventually digress into baseball .... Unlike the others at the table, this Cajon lover required no explanation of the line "where we crack their tails and suck their heads." But I must say, in all the time I lived in Pasadena, I never had the joy to meet this interesting Southerner
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