Southern Society

Living in the American South is a challenge. Not only is one faced with the history of slavery, white trash, and plantation life there is a colloquial dialect in place that no longer carries the torch for Southern hospitality. Upon hearing the brogue one can only think the people that live in the American South are ignorant and sheltered from the realities of the rest of the world. Take Mike Easley for example. Like his predecessor Jim Hunt Easley looks like a doughboy. Why is it lawyers from North Carolina must resemble Sam Bowden from the movie Cape Fear? That “Old School” southern lawyer stereotype is doing nothing but hurting the image of the South. Traditionally they might fly a Confederate flag, hang a shotgun in the window of the truck, and yell “Yee Hi” at the top of their lungs. Actually that is a description of the lower income bracket in the South by Jeff Foxworthy. Southern lawyers are more likely to go to the country club, play golf, and have lavish parties at their mansions. I was exposed to this way of life early, because Fayetteville, North Carolina, this little cloistered town stuck on Interstate I-95 had a rather large contingency of elite wealthy. I went to school at the University of North Carolina of North Carolina at Chapel Hill where this societal tradition was longstanding. One only has to look at past Chancellor William Friday as the model. When I began playing my first paying “society” gigs, I quickly learned these were the people for whom you would be playing to make money. They had the money and could afford to use a live band. There was a formula involved musically, and it took my bass playing-friend and I a few jobs to learn it. He is now the Dean of the College of Arts and Sciences at UNC. It seems that societal way of life for him was appropriate. I on the other hand learned the formula, played the game, but rebelled against the faction of people that had money. I did this because growing up in Fayetteville, I went to church with this same group of wealthy elite. Their children were delinquents who knew nothing more than to drink, smoke, and behave badly. We did not get along well with them, because we were disciplined middle class students working on a variety tasks. We sang in the Episcopal church Youth Choir. I played the trumpet at almost every Christmas Eve and Easter church service. I was taking piano lessons. There was a variety of things around to keep us occupied. These children were neglected by their “mover and shaker” parents, because they were out making the money. I didn’t like their familial model, and their parents were stuffy and conceited. Playing good music for them went a long way in bridging the gap, and I came to understand and appreciate society. Today I must reject its traditions, because it is based upon the sacrament of marriage. I am not married, so playing music for couples about love is difficult for me. It is a challenge to feel feelings that don’t apply to you. As in the case of most love-themed music, there is a great deal of heartache and heartbreak. I have only had that once in my life, but the time I did was sufficiently strong enough to @#$% me up for almost four years. That is why I went to Ohio State University to pursue my doctorate. I was at a loss for what to do next. I siphoned all that misplaced love into music fully and whole-heartedly. It was not until four years later I was able to move on. It required an emotional profile that changed. I had to dispense with that Southern model of society and become more progressive. That antiquated model is quite capable of providing severe disappointment when one does not fit in with the preexisting society. Not everyone is meant to own a “trophy wife” and say things like, “Yes Jim, would you like to go to the country club and play golf?” leaving your job at midday. To survive the disappointment you do not have these things, you must become rebellious against them based on the reason they are inappropriate for the average person. Simply that is what makes society elite. There are only a privileged few that are worthy of being part of the club. As in the case of SLC Punk you must start your own club. Living in Fayetteville between cruise ship contracts is difficult, because this is that model. At age 44 and being single, there isn’t much to fit in with. My parents ask me why I have no friends here. It is because I graduated from high school in l981, twenty-six years ago. I have lived with them on and off during that period, but not long enough to make any new friends my age. People suggest you go to singles parties at local churches, but what could be more humiliating that broadcasting to the world you are desperate? The Midwest, while it was not a simple transition, offered me a new identity and emotional profile that left the dangerous components of loss of love clearly in the dust. I learned how to have love in an empowering way with none of the doughboy weaknesses that are so evident in the American south. Those emotions are what create Southern hospitality, but at the same time they can ruin you when you do not fit into its strict requirements for life. While the role model of a southern gentleman doesn’t seem unsavory, and it is ensconced rather deeply in my soul, it no longer serves my purpose. I am empty-handed in Southern society. Its tradition has left me alone. When observing that anachronistic model the spineless manipulators of the law seem worthy only of being part of their own boys club. “Can you being me a mint julep while I bribe this judge?” That way of life is is so incredibly selfish, burrowed deep in plantation land hiding from the rest of the world behind Spanish moss laden oak trees and bayou swamp water. “Would you like a cold class of ice tea on your front porch?” The gentil demeanor, weak speech, and worse a weak face suggest homosexuality. It was only recently that the shock of an existence of well-to-do gay society men jolted my existence. These men have power, because they have money. Their obtuse sexuality is empowered by their place in society. Only the money they make could be attractive to a woman. It seems appropriate Max Cady pulled the wool over his counselor’s eyes and taught him a lesson by trying to screwing both his wife and his daughter. In this age you better have passion for what you want, and that means straight men better step up to the plate and begin rejuvenating heterosexuality in America. Let’s dispense with the “Ninja Sluts” and bring back the traditional role model of a sexy woman with vulnerability. Where have all the Marilyns gone? I guess they are all in re-hab. Maybe if they were getting screwed by real men they wouldn’t end up drunk and in jail. “Keep it gay, keep it gay, keep it gay!” Not. “Keep it straight, keep it straight, keep it straight.” Seven brides for seven brothers is the model. Who would think the home of the 82nd Airborne would carry such feminine overtones? “Don’t ask, don’t tell?” While Bill Clinton’s policy may work in the military, the idea of hundreds of men going down on each other on a long C-130 flight to Iraq is disturbing.