I am Southern

Vivy got her first strand of pearls this weekend.

They are tiny freshwater pearls, and they are perfect for any baby who wants to wear pearls. I got a similar strand from my Aunt Nancy (the same aunt that gave Vivy her strand), and I still have them. Nancy told my mom that she had gotten Vivy a present that was "very Montgomery" and gave them to Vivy this past weekend while she, Mom and I were making our whistle stop tour of the South. My Aunt Malone had already sent her a monogrammed baby bracelet, so Vivy is ready for her next picture day.

My family moved to Charlotte in 1984, leaving our regular trips to Montgomery at the Georgia state line. Even though I never lived in Montgomery-- never wore monogrammed sweaters or attending cotillion balls-- I lived vicariously through my cousins, Jennifer and Julie, and grew up feeling like these things were somehow apart of my own past. But my family didn't move in those circles in Atlanta or in Charlotte, and as time went by I began to detach and almost disdain those kinds of experiences. I became more metropolitan, more intellectual I suppose, and regarded the southern experience as sheltered and superficial.

Since then I have vacillated between loving and leaving the South. Yet as much as I want to break away from it, I naturally gravitate toward decorating my house in coordinating floral and stripe fabrics and can't leave my pearl earrings in my jewelry box. I'm probably even going to buy Vivy something smocked to wear at Easter.

Why do I write this? Because during this trip to Montgomery I somehow was able to just embrace my sweet Southern family and not worry about how "southern" everything was. This world is apart of me, and this weekend I remembered that. And I'm glad Vivy will grow up tasting it too, even if only every once in a while. So what if I don't drink before noon (even on a Saturday) or that I don't have a Shi Tzu named Coco Chanel who has her own pink monogrammed dog bed. I am still Southern.