The other night, I
– living in North Carolina – was talking on the phone to a
friend from the North about aging. She asked me,
”
When does a woman crossover from a ‘miss’ to a ‘ma’am’?
”
The other night, I – living in North Carolina – was talking on the phone to a friend from the North about aging. She asked me, “When does a woman crossover from a ‘miss’ to a ‘ma’am’?”
I replied: “The moment you move to the South.”
Yes, change is automatic and certain when one moves to the South. I was welcomed with open arms and yet insulted at the same time.
It happened when dining at my first Southern restaurant. Upon entering, the waitress behind the counter looked up and gave my husband and I a big, sunny, “How y’all doing?” Being from New York and unaccustomed to such a reception, my husband and I turned to look for the people the waitress must be talking to. We looked. We saw nobody, then realized the warm greeting was for us.
The second “how y’all doing” was louder and slower, as though she was speaking to dimwitted foreigners who had just entered the FriendlyLand. “Come right over here and sit down. I’ll fix y’all up. I’ve never seen you here before. Are you new in town? Well, this is a great place to live. You’re gonna like it here.”
She was right. I liked it immediately. I liked her immediately. I had my very own Aunt Bea waiting on me. We formed an instant bond. I decided on the spot she would be my new lifelong best friend. Why not? After two minutes of being around her, I felt like I knew her my whole life and started to divulge deep, dark secrets. It would be a great friendship. We would talk for hours. We would go shopping together. We would get our hair done together. Life in North Carolina would be great.
After chatting a while, the waitress got down to business and took out her pad and pen to write down our order. She looked at me and asked, “What would you like, ma’am?” My jaw dropped. Stunned, I just stared at her in silence. Her encore of “What would you like ma’am?” was louder and slower, as though she was now speaking to a deaf foreigner.
Lowering my head and voice in sudden embarrassment, I gave her my order. She jotted it down and ran to place it. “Ouch, that hurt,” was all I could mutter when I regained the strength to talk.
“What hurt?” my husband asked.
“She called me ‘ma’am.’ What did I ever do to her? I just met her. Do I look old to you? There was no need for her to insult me. If you prick me, do I not bleed? Yesterday in New York I was being properly addressed as ‘hey, lady,’ and now today I’m called ‘ma’am’? This is wrong!”
Such was my introduction to the South.
Needless to say, I never became friends with Mary Sunshine, but I’ve learned many things living in the South. I’ve learned that a hush puppy is a food as well as a shoe. I’ve learned the definition of the word “barbecue” changes from a verb to a noun. I’ve learned if you want a burger cooked medium, you better cook it yourself. I’ve learned iced tea becomes sweet tea. I’ve learned 4 inches of snow means four weeks of no school. I’ve learned when people wave at me from inside their car, it’s with the whole hand. I’ve learned people wait for the answer when they ask, “how y’all doing?”
Who knows? Maybe one day I’ll learn not to cringe when I’m called “ma’am,” but I seriously doubt it.
Cindy Argiento is a free-lance columnist who lives in North Carolina with her family. Her column appears weekly in the Gilroy Dispatch and Hollister Free Lance. She may be contacted at ca*******@*ol.com.
