By Neal Wooten
It always amazes me how people from the North view the South. These images of bootlegging, shotgun-toting hillbillies are ingrained into their minds until they think anywhere south of the Mason Dixon Line has to be the scariest place on the planet Earth.
When my ex-wife and I first met, and she was planning her first visit, her older sister called me one day out of the blue from Los Angeles to voice her concerns. “I’m so worried about Maggie going down to Alabama. Is it safe? I’ve just heard some things about Alabama that scare me.”
This is no joke; this conversation really took place. I guess Yankees truly believe there’s a group of good ol’ boys hanging out at the airports looking for people who don’t belong. As soon as you get off the plane, they walk up and say, “You ain’t from around here, are ya?”
Here was my response: “Let me get this straight. You live in Los Angeles, and Maggie lives in Chicago, two places where you cannot even go to the local Seven-Eleven without fear of being robbed, you cannot even go to a park without the possibility of being mugged, you cannot drive to work without the possibility of being carjacked, and you’re worried about Maggie coming to rural Alabama?”
I couldn’t get her to see the irony of her and Maggie living in two of the most violent cities in America yet being worried about Coosada, Alabama, where I lived at the time. In fact, I’m not sure there has ever been a serious crime committed in the history of Coosada.
I could never understand how people could judge so wrongly the land of Southern hospitality. We’re talking about a place where if your car breaks down and you don’t have a cell phone or any money, someone will pick you up, carry you home, fix you supper, and pay to have your car towed, and never ask for anything in return.
Once, when I was 18, I was driving up Sylvania Gap in my ’74 Monte Carlo (You can’t hide money), and there was a young lady whose car had quit on her. She hopped right into my car, and I drove her to Mom and Dad’s house so she could use the phone to call her father. While she waited, Mom made lunch, and she ate with us. It was very normal.
I think the whole Bible Belt thing is too confusing for people out west and up north to fully comprehend. Treating strangers like family is beyond their grasp. But that’s who we are. The South is the Bible Belt, and Sand Mountain is the buckle.