My niece, Rachel

Tribute to 2 "late, greats"-Lewis Grizzard and Fred Arnold

Sometimes people come along and leave their mark on the world and when they die, the world has lost something. I remember when I was in high school, my grandpa became ill and would eventually pass away from this illness.

As a kid "Papa" and I would watch "Hee Haw" together and thanks to him, I got my love of country and bluegrass music. Being with him, I got to learn the music of Eddie Arnold, Johnny Cash, Hank Williams and the likes. He would take me on walks to my great-Grandma's house and we would walk through the rows of her garden and he would always point out what this was or that was.

I remember after he got sick, he couldn't really get out much anymore, so my mom would check out books from the library for him. I think she checked out every Lewis Grizzard book the library had at the time. And again, thanks to him, Lewis Grizzard became a favourite writer, commentator, comedian, and defender of the South.

Recently I came across a book in my library that I haven't read in about a year. Of course, I'm talkin' about a book by Lewis Grizzard. "Southern by the Grace of God."
I thought I'd leave a few of the more memorable excerpts here.

BORN RIGHT

"All of us native Southerners knew it was coming. And now, it is here. The Sunday paper carried a large article about Northern migration to the capital city of the South.

In the metro Atlanta area, the article said, native Georgians still have the edge, but it's not an overpowering one and the margin is dwindling. Said the article, "The migration patterns that brought Northeasterners to Atlanta's elite northern suburbs also sent people from the other regions to spots around the metro area. These settling patterns....have brought a new sense of place to dozens of Atlanta neighborhoods, influencing everything from the local politics to the inventory at the corner grocery store."

The article also quoted Yankee population expert, William Frey of the University of Michigan, as saying, "The nice Southern flavor of Atlanta may be diluted a bit with all the Northerners moving in."

The nice Southern flavor of Atlanta may be diluted a bit....

I certainly understand why somebody from the land of freeze and squeeze would want to seek asylum here. A friend, also a native Southerner, who shares my fear about losing our Southern flavor, put it way: "Nobody is going into an Atlanta bar tonight celebrating because they've just been transferred to New Jersey."

So what should I expect as my beloved Southland becomes more populated with migrating honkers? (Honker" Northerner with a grating accent who always talks at the top of his or her voice.) Will Southerners start dropping the last part of everybody's first name like the honkers do? Will I forever be Lew? Will Mary become Mare? Will Nancy become Nance? Will Bubba become Bub?

Will the automobile horn drown out the lilt of "Georgia on My Mind"? Will they dig a tunnel through Stone Mountain so native New Yorkers can remember the dark, choking atmosphere of the Lincoln and the Holland Tunnels? Will Harold's barbeque, 45 years in business, lose it's clientele to delicatessens where you have to scream at the top of your voice to get somebody to take your order for pastrami on pumpernickle?

Will the downtown Atlanta statue of the Phoenix, symbolic of the city's rising form the ashes, be replaced by a statue of Sherman holding a can of lighter fluid? Will grits become extinct? Will corn bread give way to the bagel? Will everybody, including native Southerners, start calling Atlanta's pro football team the "Fall-cuns" like the Yankee sportscasters, instead of the way it's supposed to be pronounced, "Fowl-cuns?"

Will "freeway" replace "expressway"? Will "soda" or "pop" replace "Co-coler"? Will Southern men start wearing black socks and sandals with Bermuda shorts? Will "Y'all come back" become "Git outta here"?

I was having lunch at an Atlanta golf club recently. A man sitting at another table heard me speaking and asked, "Where are you all from?" He was mocking me. He was mocking my Southern accent. He was sitting in Atlanta, Georgia, making fund of the way I speak.

He was from Toledo. He had been transferred to Atlanta. If I hadn't been 46 years old, skinny, and a basic coward with a bad heart, I'd have punched him. I did, however, give him a severe verbal dressing down.

I was in my doctor's office in Atlanta. One of the women who works there, a transplanted Northerner, asked how I pronounced the word "siren." I said I pronounced it "si-reen." I was half kidding, but that is the way I heard the word pronounced when I was a child.

The woman laughed and said, "You Southerners really crack me up. You have a language all your own."

Yeah, we do. If you don't like it, go back home and stick your head in a snow bank. We really don't care how you said it or how you did it back in Buffalo.

I read a piece on the op-ed page of the "Constitution" written by somebody who in the jargon of my past, "ain't from around here." He wrote white Southerners are always looking back and that we should look forward. He said that about me. He was reacting to a bumper sticker that shows the old Confederate soldier saying, "FERGIT, HELL!"

I don't go around sulking about the fact that the South lost the Civil War. But I am aware that once upon a long time ago, a group of Americans saw fit to rebel against what they thought was an overbearing federal government. Ther is no record anywhere that indicates anybody in my family living in 1861 owned slaves. As a matter of fact, I come from a long line of sharecroppers, horse thieves, and used car dealers. But a few of them fought anyway - not to keep their slaves, because they didn't have any. I guess they simply thought it was the right thing to do at the time.

Whatever their reasons, there was a citizenry that once say fit to fight and die and I come from all that, and I look at those people as brave and gallant, and a frightful force until their hearts and their lands were burnt away.

I will never turn my back on that heritage. I am proud to be a Southerner. If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times: I'm an American by birth, but I'm a Southerner by the grace of God."

Heritage

It's always been an intrest of mine, coming from somewhere and someone. In junior high I started having these stirrings within to be in touch with my heritage. I have always known that I was a "Rebel girl" and began in childhood listening to country, pinning the Confederate Battle flag on my bedroom wall, and preferring to hang out with friends who thought the same about these kind of things as me. In the words of Barbara Mandrell, "I was country when country wasn't cool." Nowadays, according to the PC crowd, being what I am isn't so cool. Oh, well.

As a Christian, I am also stirred within about where I am going. I belong to God, I am His child, adopted by Him, and will some day become a citizen of Heaven. Oh, this isn't too cool with the PC'rs either.

But what an awesome thing to look at where I came from and learning about some of the people in my lineage and seeing the hand of God bring me to where I am now. Before my biological mother died, she told me of the lady I am named after, Dessie Mae (I am Dessie Ann). Dessie Mae was her grandma. My mother told me more than once about spending the night at her grandma's and at bedtime laying there in her grandma's bed, watching her kneel by the bed and listening to her pray. She prayed for her husband and children. She prayed for her grandchildren. She prayed for her great grandchildren and her posterity. She prayed for me, and I wasn't even born yet. She prayed for my children and I dont have them yet. And I am named after this godly lady.

Also recently I have discovered my dad's line has been traced on both sides. I knew about his dad's lineage, but didn't know until a couple of weeks ago about his mothers. It seems it has been traced thus far back to the late 1600's early 1700's in Switzerland. The next generation came to America. They stayed for one generation in Lancaster Co. PA and belonged to a church group known as Ephrata Cloister. From what I've researched on that, it seems this was a very devout, God fearing group of people. The line moves on to Dekalb Co. TN where the line remained (and some still remain there to this day.) My great, great, great grandpa was named John Calvin Atnip. There is a John Calvin in my line...how cool is that! He was named after one of my favorite theologians.

What gets even cooler, John Calvin and 3 of his brothers served in the Confederate Army. One of the brothers died in a Union POW camp in Indiana. John however, lived until well after the Great War was over. I now have proof to become a member of the United Daughters of the Confederacy, and that is really cool too!

A few years before my mother died, she became a believer in Jesus Christ. She began praying for me and a couple of years later, I too accepted Jesus Christ as my Saviour and Lord.

This is a legacy I want to pass to my children. The godliness of my forefathers, the Cause for which some of them fought, a love for Dixie, an inheritance of the Confederacy, and a hunger for an even greater inheritance-an eternal inheritance.