The family and I went to the flea market at the fairgrounds Saturday morning to window shop for some furniture. We enjoyed looking around at all of the wares for sale and chatting with all the people there. While talking about furniture with one man I felt myself comfortably slipping into my old Southern self, with plenty of friendly y’alls and an added accent.
It made me appreciate again how rich my heritage is; how I can slip back into this friendly Southern mode without thinking about it. It’s not forced, it is who I am. The bigger surprise to me is that I tend not to talk Southern most of the time. I tend to be a bit of a chameleon with accents, as I’ve mentioned here before. Maybe it’s because Raleigh has such a mix of people from all over. Still, I’ve enjoyed those visits I’ve made to the deeper South (and to flea markets) and the chances they provide to reconnect with my roots.
I’ll bet if you asked most of the people around you they would think you talk like a southerner. We’re just used to it.