One of the most memorable comments I heard after moving to the South was, "Up North, you put all your crazy people in institutions. Here in the South, we put them on our front porches for everyone to enjoy." I wouldn't label my neighbors as "crazy", but they
are sweetly eccentric.
During the early days of our move, when our environment was a chaos of boxes and furniture in the wrong rooms, an elderly neighbor knocked on the front door.
Her greeting was, "What's your favorite pie?"
"Um, I'm not sure."
"Well, I'd just love to make you your favorite pie, but I can't unless you tell me what it is. Now, no arguing, just tell me."
She was serious. "Okay, I guess...rhubarb?"
Crestfallen expression.
"I mean, apple."
She looked away and said nothing.
"Blueberry?"
She smiled broadly, "Why, don't you like
chocolate cream pie? I think
everyone does."
"Oh, chocolate cream pie sounds great!"
"See? I just wanted to make your favorite."
Curiously, no pie ever arrived.
One of my more fascinating neighbors has a thin mustache, slicked back hair, and the general demeanor of the old movie actor, Ronald Coleman. Except that he has a wonderfully slow, low drawl. A couple of years ago, I stopped to talk with him while I was walking our dog. He had a small rat terrier on a leash.
"What's your dog's name?" I asked.
"Roy." I can't explain how he made the word last for three syllables. "Roy is his name and thank you for asking."
The next year, I saw him out with his dog again.
"How's Roy doing?" I called breezily.
He shook his head. "No, ma'am, Roy died. This is
Leroy." The new rat terrier looked very much like Roy. Anyone could have made the same mistake.
Then, six months later, I couldn't help but notice his rat terrier didn't look like Roy
or Leroy.
"You have a new dog?"
"Yes, Leroy died," he drawled solemnly. "This is
Elroy."
As I walked past my neighbor's driveway, I noticed the backseat of his car was loaded up with big bags of Ol' Roy dog food from Wal-Mart.
Sometimes, I'm not even sure what questions to ask.
I'm absolutely dying laughing. I just wait around for people to tell me these kind of stories...
ReplyDeleteHey, I'm still waiting for the pie.
ReplyDeletedying here too!!!!!
ReplyDeletewanna share that pah!
sorry, couldn't help it...just remembering my dear Thurman friend.
oh, and I say friend because back then, the strongest accent was Pams. :) The little ones were a mix of MN and KY...
ReplyDelete