The Desk.

Ok, time for a real post. Lately I've been getting grief from several sources about talking with a Southern accent. I'm proud to say that I was raised in the South, and because of that, I may at times proudly display the regional dialect and the Confederate flag. I stand when Dixie plays, and when a lady enters the room. That does not make me a redneck, hilbilly, or hick, and it most certainly does not make me a racist. In fact, my Southerness prevents me from becoming those things. It is my pride in my Southern heritage that gives me respect for myself and the people I deal with. I was brought up to believe in this notion of human dignity, and that everyone here deserves to be treated with respect. I was taught that as a Southern man, it was my duty to show hospitality not only to my guests, but to everyone I meet.

As you may know, I attended Kimberly Park for elementary school, which, as you should also know, is primarily peopled with Blacks. (Notice I do not use the term African-American here because it is incorrect unless referring to an American citizen who himself immigrated from Africa.) I never drew any connection between the Blacks at my school and those that had been enslaved. I did not think myself or my race better than any of those individuals or their race. After all, I grew up knee-deep in the myth of the Old South, and I've always believed that it is true. Gentlemanly conduct is my obligation as a Southerner, but more than that, I see no reason for acting otherwise.

I can't speak for all of us, but respect, dignity, and honor are what the South is about. I love and cherish my Southern upbringing; I love it, and I live it. But if you don't love it, feel free to leave it.