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Last Thanksgiving, just as I was coming out from under the black cloud of post-election blues, I did something I never thought I'd do. - I got on a plane and flew down to Mississippi, the heart of red state America. I was off to eat some deep fried turkey with my boyfriend's family. I would steer clear of talking about the current political climate.
My boyfriend, Josh, grew up shuttling between the homes of his divorced parents, one in Mississippi and the other in Louisiana. I was raised a secular Jew in Brooklyn Heights, an upper middle class enclave right across the water from Lower Manhattan. Josh was raised a Southern Baptist. --- It wasn't love at first sight, more mutual fascination. I was the exotic New York Jew and he was…the redneck. That's his term, not mine.
By the time Thanksgiving rolled around, we'd settled into our romance. He'd spent time with my family and had even braved his first Passover sedar last April. He was taking my cultural history quite seriously, peppering me with questions about Jewish tradition and making fun of me when I couldn't answer them --- which was most of the time. It was only appropriate that I make my first journey
to the Dirty South - again, that's his term, not mine.
I first got that I was in the Bible Belt at dinner the first night. Josh's family says grace before meals, which Josh had warned me about, probably out of fear that I would just dig in while his parents were bowing their heads in reverence. Even with the warning, I felt slightly uncomfortable when Josh's mom and stepdad clasped their hands together. My encounters with religion are far from every day occurrences. I can do the bagel and lox high holidays celebrating version of Judaism but ask me about God and I'll quickly express my doubts. But there I was, bowing my head, out of respect for my hosts.
I've always had a fixed picture of what the south is. In my mind there are lots of cotton bushes, dusty country roads and rickety porches. There are also lots of rabid religious extremists who kill abortion doctors and burn crosses in front of the homes of interracial couples --- It's the stuff of Hollywood movies. I'd have to say that my view of the south was narrow, at best.
I always considered myself worldly and open-minded, in the way New Yorkers sometimes do. But when I finally made it to the south, I realized how small my world-view really is. I might be able to navigate the London Underground but I don't know much about my own backyard. I did not, in fact, see any cotton bushes in northeastern Mississippi, at least I didn't recognize any. And I only saw a few dusty country roads and no rickety porches --- at least not near Josh's house. There might be some seriously conservative people in the south but Josh's mom and stepdad are not among them. His mom even voted for John Kerry. In fact, we had a few political conversations and no blood was shed.
We ended up having a lovely Thanksgiving. Josh and I had brought down some lox, whitefish salad and creamed herring for his parents to try. We started out with a nice Jewish brunch in the morning and moved on to deep fried turkey, bourbon and beer in the early afternoon.
By the time we left Mississippi on Sunday, both Josh and I were ready to get back to New York. We missed the energy of city, mass transportation, and the un-fried goodness of green salad. But I finally understood where he had come from and what he had left behind.
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Back announce:
Sarah Dalsimer lives with her boyfriend in Brooklyn. They're currently planning their second Passover together.
MISSISSIPPI MUSIC UP, play for at least 10 seconds and then FADE quickly