“I think it is safe to say that while the South is hardly Christ-centered,
it is most certainly Christ-haunted.”
(one of the many blue plates at Rachel’s in Watkinsville, Ga )
I’m not certain what exactly Ms O’Conner meant about us here in the South
being ‘Christ haunted’, but I suppose it has something to do with just another
thread woven into our long and at times, tragically sad past as Southerners.
But that past has much more happy than sad…it’s just that the sad gets more coverage
May it be known that I have always had a deep respect and affinity for the older residents
of our beautiful South.
And it probably should be known that possessing manners and respect seems to be just an innate
quality we Southerns seemed to born with…or maybe it was something that simply came from our grandmothers.
Today, I finally felt like I might live from the first dose of that blasted Pfizer vaccine.
The jury has been out since Saturday afternoon.
And since I did feel as if I might actually survive today, we went to visit a new dentist.
New doctors of every shape, size and description now seem to be filling our dance card.
Ode too moving.
And so since we now live in a place that is a bit “out”…
we’re within about 10 to 15 minutes to several nice little cities and towns.
One being the home to my alma mater.
But that once small city I knew 40 years ago, is now a massive teeming sea of humanity
all with a massive sea of speeding reckless cars.
The dentist, gratefully was in the opposite direction…located in a
delightfully charming small southern town.
When the hygienist was almost finished, I asked if she could recommend
a nice little place for lunch.
She asked if we liked southern cooking.
You know, those blue plate special places of yore.
“Well, yeah”, was my snappy response…as if my southern drawl didn’t give that away.
She recommended a place that was in a small shopping strip on our way back home.
When we pulled into the parking lot, it was full.
As in packed.
We spied the restaurant across the parking lot as there was even a line of cars
pulled up alongside the drive through window.
We made our way inside behind a line of the hungry myriad of lunch folks.
The young lady at the door took our name but shortly directed us to a long table
of about 8 chairs with two older women sitting at the opposite end
as we saddled up on the other end.
The place was packed and folks just kept pouring in.
Social distancing, I suppose, was in the best effect it could be.
There were plastic separators between booths and folks at the long tables
were spread out…
They had a dry erase board boasting the day’s delectables.
Fried chicken with white gravy
Country fried steak
along with every vegetable and casserole imaginable.
One of the older women sitting at the end of our table asked if we were new visitors to
We explained that we were new to the area so she immediately called over our waitress, Susan,
explaining that we were new and she needed to be nice to us.
Susan looked at us and winked, noting that her name was actually Suzanne.
Susan/ Suzanne immediately reappeared with a basket of hot, melt in your mouth, corn bread.
She then took our order.
The older lady at the end of the table asked if we liked banana pudding.
I told her that I was not a fan but my husband loved it.
She explained that this place had the best banana pudding out there.
It must, because I had overheard her when she ordered three to go.
The ladies proceeded to get Susan / Suzanne to come give us the run down
of hours of operation and the days with the best offerings.
After we had eaten all that we could manage to eat, a banana pudding magically
appeared in front of my husband.
We both turned and looked at the ladies.
They each immediately raised their hands in the air as if they had no clue as to
how a banana pudding could miraculously show up.
From the oohs and ahhhs, I think the whole place knew my husband loved his
Susan /Suzanne came by and thanked us for visiting, telling us to please come again.
A little confused, we asked for our ticket so we could pay our bill.
Susan / Suzanne explained that our bill had been taken care of.
Again, we turned and looked at the ladies, who again, threw their hands in the air.
We profusely thanked them, offering to at least pay the tip, but they
happily chirped that that had been covered.
“Just come back” they joyously responded.
Southern charm and hospitality…our heritage.
And I for one, am thankful.
A tree is known by its fruit; a man by his deeds.
A good deed is never lost; he who sows courtesy reaps friendship,
and he who plants kindness gathers love.