Just wheat

Thank God my dad won the “name the baby” battle. My mom, a Georgia/Tennessee, native, begged him to agree to name me Georgia. He refused.

Even though I’m grateful for narrowly escaping being dubbed as a child of the South for the rest of my life, I feel sorry for my mom every time I think about her wanting to include her Southern heritage into my name, and into so many other aspects of our lives, wistfully longing for her own childhood home while stuck in the dry, flat city of Wichita, Kansas. My dad, a Delaware native and son of Polish immigrants, had no connection to or reverence for the South. And although my stepdad tried his best to fit in when we moved to Arkansas, learning to speak with a Southern accent, adopting turkey hunting as a hobby, and even trading “you guys” for “y’all,” he probably never…

View original post 644 more words

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s