Mason Jars and Dixie Cups

I've officially left the South, and have entered the land of no eye contact among strangers.  I like to laugh about how reserved the North tends to be, how we tend not to talk or look at each other on the Subway, or approach people we don't know.  When I was still in graduate school, I went to Salt Lake City with my friend Bonniejean for a conference.  As we were waiting in line for a buffet lunch, the woman in front of us heard us chatting, and turned around.  She started the conversation with, "So, where are you from?" and I swear, I just about panicked.  I can't speak for Bonniejean, but my thought process went a little something like this: "Who is this strange woman?  Why is she talking to me?  Is she crazy?  Does she want something? What's wrong with her? Oh.... wait.... she's being friendly." 

At first, being in the South reminded me a great deal of that moment.  I just couldn't get over how nice everyone was, offering me food, and help, and rides.  I think I wrote about it on my blog before, but when I was at Newfound Gap, in Tennessee, a woman came up to me and offered to make me a sandwich, out of the blue. And while I haven't been offered a home-made sandwich in a while, I did feel a bit sad walking out of a region of the country which has so thoroughly transformed the ways in which I interact with strangers. 

As such, I'd like to present a short list of things I hope I never forget about the three months I spent south of the Mason-Dixon line.

1.  There are churches everywhere.  Logically, I understood that there is a 'Bible Belt' but I didn't understand quite what that meant until I got to Damascus, VA, where there are at least five churches within four blocks in a town with a population of less than 1,000 people.  In that vein...
1a.  The Ten Commandments.  As a secular northerner, I was surprised to see the 10 Commandments prominently displayed all over Pearisburg, on yards, in business windows, and on the rear-view windows of cars and trucks.  As it turns out, there is a perfectly good reason for this: there is an ongoing court case involving hanging the 10 Commandments in the local public schools. When I asked a local man about the issue, he explained it as such, "Well, an atheist wanted to take the Commandments out of the schools, so now we're hanging the Declaration of Independence up next to the Commandments to make everyone happy."  It was an interesting take on a complex issue (and one I was not prepared to debate as the man in question was a shuttle driver who was helping me get the hell out of Pearisburg for the final time), and one which further underscored to me that I was still in the Bible Belt.
2.  Grits are good.  (Actually, I'm not sure if the grits were so good, or if I was just delighted to have another way to legitimately and appropriately eat cheese in the morning.  Guess I still have to do more soul searching on this issue.)
3.  There don't seem to be any coffee shops.  The first time I saw a Dunkin Donuts in the past three months was... well... actually, I'm in Pennsylvania now, and I still haven't seen one.  So maybe it's not just a Southern thing. 
4.  Mr. Black told me a while ago that the true border of the South was determined by the line at which Sweet Tea was no longer sold.  As this seems to directly correspond with when diners switch from serving whipped spread to butter, I'd like to propose these as a more relevant alternative to the Mason-Dixon line.  While I will miss Sweet Tea tremendously (although my teeth are thankful that I've walked out of that zone), having real butter on my toast in the mornings where I'm lucky enough to wake up in town is wonderful.
5.  Trains.  They're everywhere, in almost every hill town, blowing low, toothy whistles in the middle of the night.  Harper's Ferry was the ultimate for me in terms of the trains; I stayed at the Town's Inn, which was almost directly across from the railroad tracks.  Between the freight trains and the commuter trains, I was in absolute heaven.
6.  The music.  I didn't get off trail to listen to live music on purpose, but every time I stumbled into it I was blown away.  Between listening to a country western/bluegrass version of "I'll Fly Away" in a bar in Damascus, to overhearing "John Brown's Body" sung at 10 pm on the streets of Harper's Ferry, I've never before so strongly connected music with my physical location.  I doubt I'll ever be able to listen to those two songs again without being transported back to both of those nights, feeling overwhelmed with the lyrics, and the tune, and the location.
7.  My inability to get anyone to give me a quote on how much it would cost to get a shuttle.  Trying to get from Pearisburg (that sinkhole of a town) to Bland, I called three separate shuttle drivers and asked them how much it would cost.  Each time I was told the same thing: I don't know, but I charge such-and-such amount per mile.  Now, the route from Pearisburg to Bland isn't ALL that uncommon, and getting a price estimate should not have been hard, but it was all but impossible, each and every time I called.  Re-reading A Walk in the Woods confirmed that this was not just my issue: Mr. Bryson had the same problem trying to get a cab in Tennessee.

I'm sure I'm leaving out a number of wonderful things, but I'm going to end this list here, as I'm currently in Maryland visiting my friend Erin and her gorgeous family.  The last few weeks have been magical, and I'm in the process of writing a very long post about the beautiful and surreal moments I've had.  To the South, and everyone I met within its loosely defined geographic features: thank you for your hospitality, your kindness, and the way in which you helped me start to lose some of my cynical northern sentiments.