January 2026

There were 3 posts published in January 2026 (this is page 1 of 1).

The last days of the Southern drawl

Around Raleigh I hear fewer and fewer Southern accents and I think it’s sad. I can still muster up mine but it seems to only come out when I’m around other Southerners. The ratio of Southerners in Raleigh seems to be dropping by the day.

On Sundays after church, my family would pile into our crank-window GMC truck and head to Kentucky Fried Chicken. “Can I get me some of them tater wedges?” my father would say into the speaker, while my sisters and I giggled in the back seat. My dad has always had a southern accent: His words fall out of his mouth the way molasses would sound if it could speak, thick and slow. But his “KFC voice,” as my sisters and I call it, is country. It’s watered-down on work calls and during debates with his West Coast relatives. But it comes out around fellow cattle farmers and old friends from Kentucky, where he grew up.

My mother’s accent isn’t quite as strong. She’s a therapist, and she can hide it when she speaks with her patients and calls in prescriptions. But you can always hear it in her church-pew greetings, and when she says goodnight: “See you in the a.m., Lawd willin’.”

I was always clear on one fact: I wasn’t going to have a southern accent when I grew up. I was raised in Murfreesboro, Tennessee, near Nashville, where the accents grow stronger with each mile you travel from the city. I watched people snicker at the redneck characters on television who always seemed to play the town idiot. I knew what the accent was supposed to convey: sweet but simpleminded. When I was 15 and my family went to New York for the first time, the bellhop at our hotel laughed when my mom and I spoke; he said he’d never met cowgirls before. That was when I decided: No one was going to know I was from the South from my voice alone.

Source: The last days of the Southern drawl

The last days of the Southern drawl

Around Raleigh I hear fewer and fewer Southern accents and I think it’s sad. I can still muster up mine but it seems to only come out when I’m around other Southerners. The ratio of Southerners in Raleigh seems to be dropping by the day.

On Sundays after church, my family would pile into our crank-window GMC truck and head to Kentucky Fried Chicken. “Can I get me some of them tater wedges?” my father would say into the speaker, while my sisters and I giggled in the back seat. My dad has always had a southern accent: His words fall out of his mouth the way molasses would sound if it could speak, thick and slow. But his “KFC voice,” as my sisters and I call it, is country. It’s watered-down on work calls and during debates with his West Coast relatives. But it comes out around fellow cattle farmers and old friends from Kentucky, where he grew up.

My mother’s accent isn’t quite as strong. She’s a therapist, and she can hide it when she speaks with her patients and calls in prescriptions. But you can always hear it in her church-pew greetings, and when she says goodnight: “See you in the a.m., Lawd willin’.”

I was always clear on one fact: I wasn’t going to have a southern accent when I grew up. I was raised in Murfreesboro, Tennessee, near Nashville, where the accents grow stronger with each mile you travel from the city. I watched people snicker at the redneck characters on television who always seemed to play the town idiot. I knew what the accent was supposed to convey: sweet but simpleminded. When I was 15 and my family went to New York for the first time, the bellhop at our hotel laughed when my mom and I spoke; he said he’d never met cowgirls before. That was when I decided: No one was going to know I was from the South from my voice alone.

Source: The last days of the Southern drawl

A look back at 2025, part 1

I see I have a blog here and think it might be fun to add something to it every now and then.

The page has now turned on 2025 and many are saying “good riddance!” This year, I don’t know if I share that sentiment. Sure, a lot of undesired stuff happened but there are some moments that deserve to be celebrated.

Twenty-twenty five was the year I threw caution to the wind and went on a grand adventure by sailing to Cuba. It’s notable that I did it without Kelly, with whom I travel nearly everywhere. It was a Guy Trip, organized my friend Ken Thomas and a small circle of his friends. None of us knew anything about Cuba and only I had any real sailing experience. The great thing is that it didn’t matter as we were all willing to dive into the unknown and trust that we would figure things out. And we did, beautifully. It was a huge confidence-builder to take a leap and learn that I have the skills to succeed. More blog posts on this to come.

Politically, America’s rot is now out in the open for all to see. Congress has abdicated its role as a check on the executive, with the Supreme Court siding with the billionaire class nearly every time. There is naked corruption everywhere. The government services we all need to keep a functioning society have been deliberately thrown into chaos. Republicans are doing their damnmedest to codify racism. All in all, things look pretty bleak.

But do they? People everywhere are finally waking up. Democrats are winning landslide elections in formerly Republican-safe districts. The President’s approval rating is far underwater. Yes, lawless thugs are running roughshod over Constitutional protections in our immigrant neighborhoods, but the people are having none of it and fighting back. Folks are getting organized, fast! While it would be nice if our institutions would stand up for everyone, it is heartening to see so many people willing to step up to fill the gaps. The American experiment is not quite dead yet.

Along these lines, I attended a few very large demonstrations in 2025 that really hit home. Never before have I felt so emotional at a protest than I did this past year. It gives me so much hope. So, though the oligarch-controlled media does its best to keep it hidden, there is significant pushback against the folks trying to shred our Constitution.