Shortly before we moved to Greenville ten years ago, I told my mom we were about to do so. I had learned not to ASK her about such things, but rather to TELL her what we were doing so as to avoid unsolicited advice. Sharp as she is, however, Mom took a little longer to catch on to this neat arrangement.
"Well," she advised, "if you're going to make friends with those nice Southern women, you'd better NOT be yourself for the first six months or so."
No, I am not exaggerating; yes, I am convinced she loves me. I believe Mother was trying, in her back-handed way, to pay tribute to our shared ability to cut to the chase, in contrast to the Southern art of beating around the bush. But since then, I have learned that beating a path around the bush is often the best and kindest way to get to the same point. (I just don't know the way very often.)
For example, my daughter says the biggest difference between me and her best friend's mama is the way we say "No." See, the friend's mama NEVER says it! When the girls come to me whining about going to the mall for the 15th time that weekend, my answer is always a terse "NO!" On the other hand, her friend's wily, Southern mama beats around the bush, wearing the girls down with positive, homespun alternatives. Don't get me wrong -- this girl's mama is NO push-over. The outcome is the same (NO MALL), but the difference is that THEY think she's NICE!
I have learned that true Southerners have developed an artful economy of expression, a verbal social lubricant that I have genuinely come to appreciate, if not emulate. For example, when someone's volunteered tale of woe goes on ad nauseum, the appropriate Southern response is "Gee, I just hate it for ya." It has the same effect of the pithy, northern response of "Tough ----" but it's a far more upbeat and polite version. If you HAVE to say something untoward, the preamble is key. Whereas I would toss out something catty like "Honestly, I wonder how she can squeeze out of the shower once the soap is rinsed off," the artful Southerner would offer the all-important prelude of, "I LOVE HER TO DEATH, but honestly, I wonder..." Suddenly the remark can be easily misconstrued as an expression of earnest concern! "Bless your/his/her heart" requires practice, and a practiced ear.
In some rare instances, "Bless your heart" can actually mean just that, a sincere desire for increased blessings to come your dear little way. When uttered about infants and the elderly, it is usually genuine. But when "Bless his heart" is offered as a prelude or a grace note, it is especially damning. For example, if a Southerner were to recommend a blind date by saying, "She is going to make a deaf man very happy someday, bless her heart," that is code for "The woman does NOT shut up." Northerners should not to try "bless your heart" at home. It is far too prone to blunders in the wrong hands. One simply cannot get away with "That's an impressive mustache, bless her heart."
Note: Anyone who has the misfortune to merit the "I love her to death" prelude AND the "bless her heart" postlude should be avoided at all costs. I don't pretend to be a Southerner nor to understand them. My children must address me as "Ma'am" but I won't answer to "Mama;" I use "y'all" and "you guys" interchangeably; I will always drive (not carry) my kids to school; I have my picture taken (not made); and I push buttons -- I don't mash them. Most significantly, I am not even vaguely interested in my own family's genealogy, let alone my in-laws' far flung kin, so nobody will be nominating me as an honorary Southerner.
But my mom was wrong (for once). Try as I might, I was unable to be anyone but myself. Yet I have managed to make many friends, dear friends, even with "those nice Southern women." And I know the feeling is mutual. Why, just the other day, I overheard one of them saying she "loved me to death."
Bless her heart.