When North Meets South

Driving through South Carolina last February vacation, my mother and I passed several Food Lions, Piggly-Wigglys and Cracker Barrels. There was not a single Shaw's, Star Market, or Stop & Shop to be seen, as there are in Massachusetts. But it wasn't just the stores that were different. There was something about the two states that had always made me feel s if I was being pulled by two magnets, one beckoning me north, the other coaxing me south. Though I was Boston born and raised, I always felt as if I was a Southern girl at heart, but it wasn't until my last visit that I understood why.

At my aunt's house in Rock Hill, S.C., I felt a peace I had never felt in Boston. My first night there, I fell asleep to crickets as opposed to the ambulance and police sirens I had grown accustomed to back in the city. When I woke up the next morning, the sun outside the guestroom window felt warmer than it did in Hyde Park. I was in no rush to leave the comfort of the king sized bed that was to be mine for the next six days. But my aunt had already promised my mother and I a day at the mall, so I was up and out the house by 10:30. As soon as we stepped out of my aunt's car and walked through the parking lot, we were greeted by a chorus of "good morning's" and "how y'all doing today's". Anytime I went to the mall back home, people were usually so grouchy and in a rush to get in and out that there was no time to spare for pleasantries. Even the salespeople seemed genuinely friendly, as if they were authentically satisfied with helping me decide which Ecko Red jeans looked better on me. As I made my way to the counter to pay for the jeans I selected, the cashier smiled at me warmly and told me "God bless". This was no surprise to me. South Carolina is one of the states that make up the Bible belt, which was evident in my aunt's good Christian behavior. But at the same time, it was such a welcome change from Boston's secular attitude that I smiled back and offered her a "God bless" , too.

A few days later, my mother, aunt and a few of my cousins had gone out to dinner at Ruby Tuesday.

"Auntie Janice, when you movin' back home?" my cousin, Gussie, (whom I had never met before that night) asked. My mother shook her head, said "I don't know", and looked at me.

"This one here wants to move after college," she said. I nodded and my other cousin, Scooter, smiled.

"Well, all right baby girl, you gonna be with family when you do." I liked the sound of that, being closer to my family. And that as when it hit me, the major difference between South Carolina and Massachusetts, at least to me. It was family. It was the closeness and intimacy that had always drawn me to the South over Boston. It was something I almost never felt at home, when my life and the lives of my mother, sister and brother never seemed to intersect unless it was Thanksgiving or Christmas. Here, we were all so close. I had been surrounded by cousins, aunts and uncles everyday for a week. I was going to miss that feeling when I got back to Boston.

When it was time for my mother and I to leave, I was overwhelmed with sadness. We joined hands before we got in the car to drive back to the airport in Charlotte, N.C., and my aunt thanked the Lord for bringing family together for that week and prayed for our safe passage home. On the plane, some 30,000 feet in the air, I thought about what I was leaving and what I was going home to. I was going home to school and work the next week, to friends and a boyfriend. But I was leaving family. That was when I had the second epiphany of my trip. South Carolina and Massachusetts were more alike than I thought. They were both places I felt comfortable and at ease, even it was for different reasons. I knew I would miss being with the family I loved so much and hated to be away from for so long. At the same time, I had people waiting for me back home, people I had missed for my entire stay in Rock Hill. I was anxious to get home, and, truth be told, I was starting to feel a little out of my element. I was starting to miss the schizophrenic, manic-depressive, passive-aggressive nature of Boston weather, the seldom on time transportation, and the perpetual, seemingly endless traffic. I've known Boston, known Massachusetts, my whole life, and even though our relationship sometimes leans more towards hate than love, it is still a huge part of me. I'm a Bostonian no matter what - even if I don't have the accent, have finally gotten over hating the Yankees, and will never, EVER, admit to the fact that I actually used to like going on the Duck Tours. And South Carolina, though I don't visit as much as I could (or should), is also a huge part of who I am. I've got that Southern hospitality in my blood that shows itself whenever I'm at a friend's house and try to do the dishes after dinner, or when I get offended if someone turns down my offer of something to drink when they visit my house (it is a huge insult to Southern folk to not eat or drink when you're a guest in their home). And, sure, Boston is louder, more crowded and more fast-paced than laid-back, conservative, peaceful South Carolina, but they both offer a certain vitality that I absolutely adore. There's love in both places for me, just from different sources. I wouldn't trade either for the other. Even if I do choose to move down South, I know I'll still carry a piece of Boston with me.