Dear Northern Friends, I apologize
This story first appeared in Lagniappe News, Mobile, Alabama.
South Alabama is usually as hot as the hinges of hell and plagued by hurricanes and humidity, but now our yards are covered in nine inches of glistening snow. It’s one of the prettiest and most unexpected things I’ve ever seen, and it’s made me realize I owe you a few apologies.
Although my husband spent his childhood in Rockaway, New Jersey, he could never adequately explain the dreamy nuances of snow. My previous experiences with snow involved dirty, big-city slush packed into icy piles that looked nothing like the whimsical specks swirling around The Peanuts Gang. For starters, there’s no jazz music accompanying the swirling flakes, which, as a Southern girl, I truly believed were as large and detailed as the ones we cut from construction paper and dangled from our first-grade classroom ceiling in nearby Pensacola
But now that I’ve experienced real snow at my own Southern home let me apologize for a few things.
While visiting my husband’s New Jersey kinfolk, I noticed plastic runners crisscrossing their floors and covering their furniture. I smiled sweetly and complimented their lovely homes but secretly thought, “Except for all this tacky plastic.” Now, I shamefully regret those thoughts because, after one day of tromping in and out of our house with snowy feet, my floors are puddles of melted ice. Who knew? I guess my Northern hosts had it right, and for that, I’m sorry.
I’ve also noticed differences in Northern visitors when it comes to their practical hairstyles. Southern ladies spend endless hours with spritzy styling products and appliances, only to discover our poofy swirls and curls are ruined the moment a snug hat is pulled over our heads and blustery winds blow us down the street. Who knew? Northern ladies have the winter hairstyles right, and for that, I’m sorry.
We’ve been frolicking with neighbors in this shared experience of nature that doesn’t involve our usual hurricanes. With no holes in the roof or cars tossed into trees, we’ve relaxed and enjoyed ourselves. It’s so much fun that we’ve become a little jealous of your snowfalls. With this brief introduction to snow, perhaps the trends will reverse, and Southerners will begin to retire and move up north (wait— y’all do have grits, right?).
With my shutters flung open to enjoy the Currier and Ives suburban scene, I can’t help but regret that I didn’t build a snowman. My floral-embroidered gloves are for looks only, and my hands were frozen stiff. No worries, though, as I warmed them in front of my fireplace, which is also there for looks.
Maybe this rare weather event is a reminder that what’s fascinating and gorgeous to one person can become old hat—run-of-the-mill—to another. Whether it’s the white sands of my Gulf Coast beaches or the white snow of the North, perhaps we all need to find the joy and beauty in what we’ve been given.
The next time you visit our beaches and scream in terror when seaweed brushes against your legs, I’ll give you a pass. I’ll protect you from our giant insects and explain —without eye rolls, the difference between porpoise and shark fins. I’ll share my sunscreen for your pale legs without teasing because I now understand why some folks can’t wear shorts year-round.
One last confession: I have a Ziploc bag full of South Alabama snow in my freezer. What am I going to do with it? I have no earthly idea. But you, with your suitcases full of seashells plucked from our beaches, will understand.
We’ll call things even for now, and again, please accept my sincere apologies. I love your snowy ways.
