SELLING THE SOUTH...

My new job is a replay of my old job with the same company from 16 years earlier, only under vastly different circumstances. One of the circumstances that remain the same, however, is the fact that traveling throughout the region is a weekly requirement. I live in the upstate of South Carolina. The extremes of my territory are effectively bounded by the ancient ridges of the Appalachian Mountains to the west and by the salt marshes and coastal sands of the Atlantic Ocean to the east. As a child of the South, I am thankful that I am not required to learn a new culture in which to transact business. I am older now and set in my ways. The very idea of transacting business north of the Mason-Dixon on a routine basis, at this point in my life, might be a hurdle my aging legs cannot clear. As it is, I had the opportunity to spend a few moments at the grave of a childhood hero, “Stonewall” Jackson, on a recent journey to my northern most accounts. I left assured that Virginia, despite snow in the winter and the infiltration of northern migrants, is securely Southern and, as such, a region in which I am at home.

At this time, there is little reason to consider traveling further South than Tallahassee, FL for business. That pretty much assures that I work in a region solidly “Southern” because, as most of us Southerners should know, any place South of Tallahassee is really not the South any more. I conducted what I call “the great tea survey” back in the latter part of the previous century. I stopped at various exits along the interstate and ordered iced tea without any further instruction to the waitress. I then waited to find out what the underlying assumption was, on the part of the establishment, as to the proper state of tea when referred to without adjectives. Did they assume I wanted sweet tea or did they assume I wanted un-sweet tea? Somewhere between Tallahassee and Gainesville, the state of Florida transitions from sweet Southern to un-sweet Yankee. That’s as far as you need to go for the purposes of selling in the South. I am sure there are places in which the great tea survey might measure the transition from the assumption of iced tea to hot tea but, frankly, I believe it would be some strange region of the world beyond the borders of the United States. In that respect, at least, we can find some basis of shared values with our Yankee countrymen. At least, thank God, there is that.

It might also be interesting to note that somewhere down around Fort Lauderdale, the state of Florida transitions into a Latin country. But that is superfluous information to selling in the south. Just to be on the safe side when I do travel there, I always carry my passport with me. You never know when you go that far south. South, that is, in the sense of the direction on the compass. I must pause here to ask forgiveness in advance from my native Alabama born Southerners. We know there is no place more passionately Southern than our homeland. Our blood is colored by her red clay soil. But in the history of the South, the great state of Alabama is one of the newer kids on the block. For history and for the evolution of the Southern ethos, the Southern compass points clearly to Charleston, SC.

Southern is a convenient reference from a past when foreigners looked at maps of a new land and oriented themselves by the obvious geographic association to the points of a compass. I don’t know another term that could supplant it without attaching a lot of political baggage. Southern distinguishes us as a distinct grouping within the larger group, American. It is the only word I can think of that satisfies our need to be identified as a separate from the rest of the country and yet, by definition, an integral part of it. We are not Balkans, Croats, Georgians, Baptists, Jews, Mormons, or Klingons. We are Southerners. A proud, distinct culture based upon inherent regional traditions that are poorly understood by foreigners and poorly articulated by Southerners. But it is within this region that I am at home. It is within this region that allows for me to communicate with even those who come from outside my beloved South because the South exudes a subtly transforming elixir that is absorbed through the senses. It is the slow dance of common consideration and unspoken nuance, which molds foreigners into people that I can work with. Oh, I’m sure I could manage a miserable year or two working in the north, but I could not sustain it. I can sell the South for the rest of my life. And when I am weary and wary of the road and I wonder about the changes penetrating the region, I go to Charleston and I sit in a shaded courtyard and I let memories wash through me sweeter than the cold, sweating glass of tea held in my hands and I let Charleston remind me that centuries can pass and changes can come. The South endures. I can sell the South again…

25 RANDOM THINGS ABOUT ME. A SHAMELESS FACEBOOK RETREAD...

1. I just lost over 200 pounds! (I sold my weights today.)
2. I live near Greenville, SC. I’m divorced (twice). I have two children, Grant (14) and Lizzy (11). They keep me here. Sometimes against my will.
3. I am am a salesman/project manager for a specialty contractor that designs, manufactures, installs, and maintains corrosion ressistant linings in process vessels in the paper, chemical, and power industries. It’s not what I am. It’s what I do. I’m still trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up. In the mean time, I sell and manage.
4. I am a Tiger twice. Graduated from Auburn and from Clemson. Paw power helps with the locals but there is only one battle cry that stirs my spirit. War Eagle!
5. After learning that a classmate from my acting classes at Auburn was a regular on Johnny Carson and a cast member on Saturday Night Live (Victoria Jackson), I managed to get myself fired from my first post-college job and I ran away to Hollywood, CA. I stayed 24 hours. I was not discovered.
6. God is real. I’m not so sure about us.
7. I want to own and operate a 100 acre worm farm.
8. I just learned that there are no frog farms in the United States and that the US is the second largest importer of frog legs in the world. Hmmm. Is this not a country of opportunities or what?! Ribbit!
9. I recently finished an improvisation class at a local theatre. Fun!
10. I am officially an unemployed actor with no experience and no prospects. I have arrived. Life is good!
11. I think my sister is the coolest chick I know.
12. I still get people telling me (albeit rarely now) that my election speech for student council president, way back in 1977, was one of the funniest things they had ever seen. I like that because the coolest sound that I have ever heard was seven or eight hundred kids laughing all at once.
13. People say nice things to me sometimes. I’m finally starting to believe them.
14. I’ve been accepted to the PhD program in Technology Management (Construction) at Indiana State University. It’s a distance learning program and I’m scheduled to start in the fall. I’m still thinking about whether or not I’m up to it. I still harbor this fantasy about teaching as a working retirement.
15. I love being southern!
16. I miss my brother, Sonny. Lost at sea in a helicopter crash March 3, 1981. Life changed fundamentally from that moment on. Those of us who have lost a loved one in service to this country, whether in war or in preparation for it, understand the true cost of defending our freedom and security. I am radically, unapologetically pro-America. God bless this great country and her citizens. Semper Fidelis.
17. I can’t help myself, I love being irreverent.
18. I want to live in a motorhome and move from place to place at the drop of a hat.
19. I love speed and competition. I want get and race a 600 Racing Thunder Roadster.
20. If I had been raised Catholic (instead of converting in my 30’s) and had known about contemplative (centering) prayer before I had any children, I would have joined a monastery. Yeah, really.
21. If I had joined a monastery, I would have been kicked out for my inability to stifle irreverent remarks and my lifelong commitment to the belief that the only mistake Jesus ever made was to leave it up to his disciples to get it right for posterity. The Truth is what transcends the packaging and posturing. Very little tolerance out there for heresy within the Christian culture. Makes for some lonely Sundays.
22. Deep inside, I am such a hippie.
23. I have a pilot’s license (not current). When things got tough, I formulated a plan to rent a plane, head it towards the gulf on autopilot, parachute out over Harpersville, get my motorcycle out of the 280 storage shed, and head off into the sunset to start a new life. But then I found out it has already been done…
24. I wish I had a trade.
25. I want to ride a motorcycle to the tip of South America and back.
26. I miss Ronald Reagan (and the rest of his great generation).
27. Depression kills. I’ve been through it. I understand it. I don’t know the details of the recent suicide of a high school friend. I had not seen her since high school but I thought she was an awesome human being. The news struck me like a hammer to the head. Let me make this clear. If any of you people ever feel like you are ready to kill yourself, CALL ME, 24/7, 864-419-9379. Find me if I’ve changed numbers. I don’t’ care if we haven’t seen each other in 50 years or if we barely ever knew one another. I’ll come get you no matter where you are. I promise. There will be another sunrise, in more ways than one, you can rest assured of that. Many of us share a common history. It is there for a reason, to give us meaning, perspective, and support. Use it.
28. I have inertia. I am slowww to get going but, once in motion, difficult to stop. (No charge for the extra 3.)

MORNING IN MAYBERRY...

It is morning. I am sitting in a small room at the 27 room Mayberry Motor Inn in Mount Airy, NC with a coffee from the nearby McDonald’s 24 hr drive through. No coffeemaker in the room. The motel looks to have been built in the early 1960’s. It is clean and well maintained by Alma Venable, whom I would assume to be the owner. It is a clean, functional, safe place to sleep, bathe, and prepare for the new day at a fair price. In any other town, it is the type of motel that I would have driven by on the way to a chain brand where, for 50% more, I would have the reasonable assurance that there would be a coffee maker in the room and twice the floor space. Here, however, I sit in this tiny little room fully aware of the fact that it is everything I need and, in this context, everything I want. Yet I know I am just visiting a place in time, a level of expectations and acceptability, which will shift towards bigger, newer, larger, and “better” when I drive out of town today. I wish it wouldn’t.

For today, however, I am in The Andy Griffith Show and Mayberry R.F.D and I settle that annoying little precursor of discontent in my gut with the idea that I am Barney Fife and I am spending some adventure time in a simple room away from home at the Mount Pilot YMCA where there is a twin sized bed, no phone, and the shared bathroom is down the hall. I am Barney, sitting on the side of the bed looking out the window as the sun rises and I am thinking to myself that this is a great day to be alive in the metropolis of Mount Pilot where there is so much to see and do. I am Barney, reaching for a pen to scribble a line on the postcard that I bought at the front desk so I can send it to Andy to tell him what a swell time I am going to have, feeling the need to get it in the mail quickly so as not to beat the delivery of it back to Mayberry. I figure that it should be there in three days and I (Barney) am staying in Mount Pilot for four, a day longer than originally planned, insuring that it will be in Andy's hands before I get back to Mayberry. Barney and I smile at the idea of Andy holding the card and imagining us having such a fine time. We wonder if it might not be better to be there when he gets it so we can enjoy watching him read it for the first time. It sho' does feel gooood thinkin' 'bout gettin' thought about...

Yep, I think the office is open now. Think I’ll stroll past the replica of the Mayberry squad car and Emmett’s Repair Shop truck on the way and get me another cup of coffee. Alma has an “Aunt Bee” room in the office, too, with all kinds of memorabilia from Frances Bavier’s estate, including some items from the show. If she’s up and moving around I might get her to tell me a little bit about when she was Andy Griffith’s mother’s hair dresser back in the day. I told her when I checked in that I was born and raised in Sylacauga, AL but I had never met Jim Nabors (Gomer Pyle) though I knew people who knew him personally or were kin to him. Alma told me that she had been invited down to Jim’s induction into some Hall of Fame in Alabama but she didn’t go. I don’t know if that coincided with the big Jim Nabors Day event that was held in Sylacauga years ago. I was out of town at the time. In any case, I was curious about the importance of having Jim’s friend Andy Griffith’s mother’s hair dresser on the invitation list but, hey, it’s a small town. It would have been rude not to invite her. Nooo. Uh-uh. It just wouldn’t do to be thought of as rude. No, siree, sir...

Yep. Think I’ll mosey on over there and get me that cup o’ joe…

A BEGINNING...

These are my first ever “published” words. The first that I can recall ever having written for a general audience, placed in a public way to allow access for whatever purpose that motivates the reader. While I might subconsciously harbor hopes for the literary equivalent of Susan Boyle sweeping millions of unsuspecting audience members off their feet, I am a reasonable man with reasonable expectations motivated by reasonable rewards. Like Susan Boyle, I have lived long enough to have experienced half (I hope!) a lifetime, seen and heard millions or trillions of bits of information observed from a particular perspective, and developed opinions that I can now send back out to the world to be integrated in varying degrees into the experiences, observations, and opinions of others who journey through life. That is an exhilarating thought! The technological development of the internet as a delivery system provides everyone with a potential to be heard on a worldwide scale. Unlike Susan Boyle, I expect a soft start and a modest response. Frankly, I’m very cool with that. Unlike Susan Boyle, I will be spending some time searching around for my voice. But I am confident that it will, over time, resound clearly and on key, the experiences, observations, and opinions that I can share with others. I do hope to eventually surprise and, perhaps, delight a few folks along the way and to do my part to show the world that we frumpy, middle aged crooners of life’s sensibilities have existed all along. That the delight and shock accompanying the revelation of our existence is just the dawning of awareness in the masses of the uninitiated that, perhaps, they (we) all should have been listening a little better to the gifts of “ordinary” human beings all along…

So, to those who survived my first paragraph, I thank you. I especially want to thank those who have told me over the years “you should write” and, particularly those who have delivered the same unsolicited encouragement over the past few months on Facebook.com. There were enough people from unrelated threads providing unsolicited encouragement to do so that I finally realized that their assessments of my “stuff” was not related to just one small group interacting nor to just one particular piece that I wrote. At 48, it finally occurred to me that writing stuff is not just something that I can do but something that I should do. So, here, I’m writing. And I, to be honest, like it. I hope you will, too. I won’t go on and on thanking people because I know that I will forget to mention someone and every kind word has been so important to me that I don’t want to even risk not getting it right. Thank you. You know who you are.

Be sure to sign up for the RSS. I’m not sure how that works exactly, but it is similar to getting an automatic email when there is a new post. I promise, you won’t be getting covered up from my posts they way you do from some of the others.

Now, I’m off to Covington, VA for a short project (called a shutdown) at a paper mill. The day job requires it and, besides, I like to go places. I’m looking forward to going to the tops of the bleach towers and, maybe riding a bosun’s chair up a 100’ tube. That’ll help me get acclimated to heights again. Something I’ll need this summer when I launch off Look Out Mountain for the first time on a hang glider. And then there’s finally getting around to climbing El Capitan…