Having lived in Milwaukee for ten years, and spending a lot of that time in Chicago and some of it in Detroit, it was a shock to a good old Southern boy to hear how a lot of people talk to one another up there. They’re downright rude and nasty at times.
That’s what I’ve always enjoyed about living in the South. We don’t do that. We don’t say horrible things about people in normal conversation. Sure, we might have some choice words for someone who pulls for the wrong team in the Iron Bowl, shuns our momma, or insults our hunting dog, but that’s understandable.
But for the most part we were all brought up to be polite. We wouldn’t just call a person a word that means not intelligent, even if we thought it fit. Well, we would, but we use code words to make it sound better. For example, we wouldn’t call a friend or relative stupid. We’d just say “Bless your heart.”
Granted, we use this phrase also when someone is down on their luck, or going through a rough time, or for a number of reasons to show we care about what a person might be going through and truly hope things turn around for them. But a lot of the times, it just means we think someone is stupid or did something stupid.
Years ago my mom called me to tell me what happened to one of my cousins. “Did you hear what happened to Junior?” she asked. (Let me add that I realize a lot of conversations in Alabama begin with those very words.) “He’s in the hospital because he tried to jump the swimming pool on his four-wheeler.”
I listened intently to the story. I had sympathy. I felt badly for what had happened. But all I could think to say was, “Well bless his heart.” See, that was nicer than saying what I was really thinking.
A few weeks ago the power went off at the Depot Museum. When it came back on, the old copier machine did not. It’s always been working and I couldn’t figure out how to get it back on. So I called tech support and just knew I was going to get a real doozy of a technician on the line.
A guy from India answered. Already I’m thinking the worst. But he tells me to flip the black switch on the back and push the green button on the top. I did and all the lights came on. “Thank you,” I said. ”Is that a secret reset procedure or something?”
“No, that’s how you turn it on,” the Indian guy said. “Bless your heart.”