Coming to terms.

I have spent much of my life denying something, and I think I'm finally at a place in my life to accept it. I'm a southerner. Yeesh, it just stings to type that.

I have nothing at all against the South, or living here. I can't explain why I feel this way but since my family moved here when I was 10, and people ask where I grew up, I always say that I grew up several places, never wanting to commit to one region. I never wanted to be considered from the South, but in reality, I have lived the VAST majority of my life below the Mason-Dixon (although I consider the stint in Texas to be out of country).

Well, those days are no more. I realize now that my children are undeniably Southerners. Have you ever heard the saying about people born in the South: If a cat has kittens in the oven, would you call them biscuits? Well, either I gave birth to biscuits, or I'm a biscuit myself but it's a done deal. You can tell by listening to Iwa speak, by their culinary tendencies, and by the embarrassingly wide array of camouflage in their wardrobes (past pictures from this blog can testify to that).

See, I was raised by mid-westerners. When we moved here, I remember picking up little pieces of the dialect very soon. The first time I asked my mom, "Why?", pronouncing it, "Wha?" I do remember being corrected. Ya'll was a word that stuck out in a sentence like a sore thumb.

Iwalani, however, knows this word well and uses it often. I also have to admit that I have been known to use it in class ("Do ya'll all have pencils?"- Is that related to a double-negative?!). It is just a convenient word!

Iwa also adds syllables to words all over the place. Did you know that car actually can have up to three syllables in it? There are all kinds of words like this including but not limited to: dog (also pronounced dowg), man, can't, and door.

Kawika's southern pride shows in his eating. My son will turn his nose up at pizza- the ultimate kid food- when given the choice between that and fried chicken with bacon-infused green beans and cornbread. Now this, I think, is just good taste. If you can't stand the South, then you've never eaten here. I mean, where else in the world is macaroni and cheese considered a vegetable?!

Interestingly enough, I went to St.Louis with some friends one time and we were somewhere hanging out and I was making conversation with some people there. They were from East St.Louis. When the guy asked me where I was from, I told him and he exclaimed with joy, "Aw naw!! You from da DIRTY south!!"

I don't think John or I would have chosen to grow up in the southern United States. Again, it's not that bad- just not a first choice. With John's grandpa from Hawaii choosing to retire here, as well as my dad, who was in the Coast Guard (We never actually lived on any coast) there was definitely potential for cooler places. Who knows, though. Maybe they wouldn't have been that much cooler.

I may not be ready for that rebel flag tattoo or for that crisp pair of Wranglers, but I am here to say that I am from the South- the Dirty South- and I like it, ya'll.