Southern Gentlemen
May 23rd, 2006 by Sandra
I was thinking yesterday about the DivaFest trip I recently took, and was struck by the gentlemanliness (is that a word?) of many Southern men.
For example, I stopped for gas around Beaumont, Texas, and an elderly gentleman — silver-haired, in work coveralls, with the open expression and manners of a guy who’s salt-of-the-earth — on the other side of the pump struck up a conversation about weather and driving, apparently in the interests of passing the time in a friendly manner. As I drove away I marveled at how nice he’d been. (Can you tell I’ve lived in a big city for too long?)
Then on the way back from DivaFest, I stopped for gas at a truck stop. Here, a gap-toothed man with the rangy look of someone you don’t want to know — the kind of guy who’d pinch you on the ass after a dance — spontaneously washed my windshield, which was coated with Louisiana lovebugs. As he put away the squeegee, he said, “Want to make sure you can see to visit us again.” He had, of course, seen my Texas plates and realized I was on I-10 headed west.
That’s the kind of thing that makes me wish I still lived in a small southern town.
My spousal unit frequently talks about growing up in Texas; when he was a boy, San Antonio was much smaller and the sense of community and family stronger. I’m more of a city/suburban girl, but the small town life is appealing with each SUV that zooms past me on the road.