It's Hard To Be A Southerner From Florida

Below is an article I wrote with the intention of sending it to "Southern Living." But I chickened out. I still think it's pretty good, though, so I thought I'd stick it up here.



Having spent all but 4 years of my life in Florida, I feel that I am a bonafide, tried-and-true southerner. I was born and raised in Pensacola – home of the Blue Angels, the Bushwacker, and some of the best beaches and fried seafood known to mankind. I lived for a time in Orlando, and after a short stint in Georgia (another southern state, I might point out…), my family has settled in Tampa.

Now, being a native Floridian is a little bit of a rarity these days, and you’d be hard pressed to find a lot of native Pensacolians. (Those of us who are native Pensacolians probably either are related or know each other, or our parents graduated high school together, or our grandmas go to the same Baptist Church.) But being a native Floridian/Pensacolian, I have always felt like a true southerner. I love fried okra. My dad used to grow tomatoes and squash as big as your head in our backyard. I could swim in the Gulf surf before I could walk. I believe that oysters - in any form - are their own food group. I can spot a frozen shrimp from a mile away. I believe canoeing down some backwoods creek may be one of the finest pleasures in life, and I started doing it when I was 5. I was raised to know that you don’t schedule a wedding, a wake, a Baptism, or ANYTHING on the same day as Florida-Florida State or Auburn-Alabama football weekends. I know that the best BBQ comes from scary little shacks on dirt roads, sweet iced tea is a life necessity, and that butter beans should never be eaten out of a can. I know that every southern holiday meal has at least 2 “entrees” (usually ham and turkey), no fewer than 15 side dishes, and at least 8 desserts. I know that sitting out in a park square in 98 degree heat, getting eaten by mosquitoes, and listening to music from the gazebo is just something you do. I say “yes maam” and “yes sir” to this day, regardless of the age of the person I am speaking to. I pull over for funerals (a practice, I might add, that has just about gotten me run over here in Tampa.) I know that beer and Tylenol are always in the shopping cart when a hurricane is coming. I have stood on the top of Stone Mountain, eaten Key Lime Pie by sunset in Mallory Square, and danced down Bourbon Street at Mardi Gras. I know what a Moon Pie is. I was in a sorority in college, and married a fraternity boy – my high school sweetheart, actually. I love the sound of the Mourning Dove, the call of the Sandhill Crane, the mystery sounds of the Mockingbird, and the sound of an Osprey on the hunt. I love “the fair” – the rides, the deep-friend everything, the pig races. I still say “ya’ll” and “fixin”. I am a Southerner.

But the rest of the Southerners don’t really agree with me. See – being from Pensacola, the “rest” of Florida considers us a part of Alabama. Southern? Yes. A Floridian from the South? No. Those os us from Northwest Florida and Pensacola know we’re not a part of Alabama, but we think the rest of Florida isn’t southern, either. Except maybe Ocala and Micanopy, but nothing south of Orlando.

So what part of Florida is southern? Miami has too many New Yorkers. Tampa has too many Latinos. Tallahassee is only the south because the Governor says it is. (The Governor with no Southern accent.) Pensacola is too far west. Jacksonville is too close to Georgia. Naples and West Palm? Forget it – you won’t find any natives around there. Key West? Too many weirdos. Orlando? All tourists.

And that’s just what Floridians think! Don’t even get me started on what Alabama, Georgia, Mississippi, and Louisiana think. And outside of that? It still makes me giggle to see features on Maryland in Southern Living. And Texas? Texas is a land in and of itself…even Texans will tell you that.

So what is a good Southern girl to do? What else can I do…I’ll teach my kids to say “ya’ll”. I’ll learn how to make the best sweet iced tea. I’ll learn to make cornbread from scratch. I’ll teach my kids about Spanish Moss and Ponce de Leon. We’ll root for the Gators and eat BBQ and at least shop for squash and tomatoes. And – bless their baby hearts – we’ll go to the fair. (My daughter won the blue ribbon for being a Champion Pig Picker at the pig races at the Strawberry Festival just last year – honest!)