Our Southern Feet

I am a Southern girl, more specifically a Carolina girl, and we have our ways. One of my best co-workers of the past twelve years has been Joan, a Jewish girl from South Philly. In spite of our different backgrounds, I think we get along famously and occasionally kid each other about our culture. Sometimes when I am speaking in a circumstantial style or choosing my words too thoughtfully, she will tell me, “Don’t be so Southern!” Though I gently remind her she is in the South and this is how we do things here, her comments make me think. Last week Joan was telling me about how she loves to get a pedicure. That is more of a general girl thing, neither Yankee nor Southern especially since the proliferation of mani-pedi salons on every street corner, but she was a little surprised that I do my own. I felt this to be a teachable moment. I explained that we Southern women grow up with some unwritten codes, one of them being we take care of our beloved feet. It is passed down from our mothers and our mothers before them. In the dead of our comparatively short winters, we know that on the first warm day our toenails must be prepared to be polished and ready to shine, whether we are barefoot or in a cute pair of sandals. It is a rite of passage each spring, and after that day, we do not like to cover our toes until cold weather forces it. This was of moderate interest to Joan and was met with a "hmmm." I think she is beginning to understand us.