In my last post, I called author Michael Perry a “Southern Yankee.” Several of my readers shook their heads at my description, so maybe I need to explain what I meant. Let me tell you a little of my journey.
In 1986, having never lived anywhere close to the Mason Dixon line, I left the South for
A few years later, after adding another degree to wall (metaphorically speaking that is, as I’ve yet to hang a diploma on a wall), I moved to a small town known primarily for its skiing, in
In my travels, I have decided that much of what people think of the South has more to do with rural living. There are lots of similarities with small towns in Western Pennsylvania (and the small-town feel of the burgs in
In my mind, I compared Michael Perry with Rick Bragg. In a way, Perry’s still is more like rural south that Bragg’s, who had lived in a mill town where things were always humming. Bragg’s writing is often fast-paced, while Perry’s is like waiting for the corn to grow. Both have a great eye to detail, but Perry tells his stories slowly and for that reason, I called him a Southern Yankee. I hope I didn’t offend him; I meant it as a compliment.
I took the photo on New Year's Day in North Carolina. The tide was low!