Insect Edition

Ugh, bugs! Unfortunately, I have gotten used to the sight of cockroaches. They are still a freaky sight, but more and more, I find myself interested in them---not in a loving way. For example, I wonder why some seem to move faster than others? And aren't they supposed to flee under the fridge when you turn on the lights in the morning? Because they don't. How come some fly? Why do they die on their backs (if not under my shoe)? Lastly, how on earth do they get in the house!

A few things I've learned about cockroaches:

- They die on their backs if you've recently had your house sprayed, because they twitch and lose control of their muscles so they can't get back on their legs.

- Apparently, cockroaches only need a space as wide as .5mm to get into wherever they want---that explains it!

- Rumor has it that the only use cockroaches MIGHT be to us is that if you apply their "juice" to a stinging wound, it will offer some relief. (But I'm guessing that's all psychological. I'll wait until I see results from a controlled study to buy into that.)

I've also learned this year that southern bug bites really are different from northern ones. These bugs are gutsy! Maybe it's just me, but in the North, I notice that when I get mosquito bites, I get numerous, little bites. Down here, however, these mosquitoes go to town in just one spot! I had a mosquito bite the other week that was easily four inches in diameter. (I begged my roommate to amputate my foot off to no avail.) I've polled ten other people about their bug bite experience, and they all concur. Maybe the mosquitoes have a swelling agent in their bite here?

Two more misc. bug observations:

- There's a species of slugs down here that bite, and they leave a gross slime trail all over our house (they follow their own trail to get out, hence you rarely see them) --- how do these guys get into the house!?

- Red ants are humanity's greatest enemy

I don't know how I'm going to maintain a level of sanity with so many bugs around. I'm fixin' to get me a bat house to eradicate some of the bugs in my buggy wolrd.

Parks and Rec...a Wreck?

I am a big fan of recreational parks of all kinds. The parks in Mississippi have been a culture adjustment for me. First of all, the local parks are not that big. I'm used to sprawling green space, lush forest trails with labeled trees and other interesting foliage, and maybe even a pond or some babbling brooks. The parks I am used to in Ohio also have plenty of park amenities (picnic tables and benches with loving messages on a plaque) and opportunities for athletic activities (tennis, basketball, and see-sawing). I expect parks to be in excellent condition and up to current safety standards (handicap access, rails for stairs).

The parks in Mississippi are scarce, lack what I like to think of as dynamism, and are not well-kept. I know they try, and I don't want to offend those small parks who do have loyal patrons and volunteer care-takers, and I am sure it's due to lack of city and state funds to expand on these parks. I also feel that since Mississippi is so invested in hunting, the majority of park-potential land isn't available, and there's probably little demand for the types of parks I miss and desire.

The one park I have been most impressed with is the Vicksburg National Military Park. I've been there two times now, and it carries the magic of most national parks, plus the magnanimous impact of the Civil War history. The first thing you need to do is view the short twenty minute film, summarizing how Vicksburg was such a turning point in the Civil War. It's a drive-through park, and you can choose to drive through the Union or Confederate side of the park and stop at significant landmarks. As you drive through, the park offers a free cell phone audio tour of good quality. If you have the time, I'd recommend driving through both sides (and I know I'm biased, but the Union side is much more picturesque and interesting). Once you get through the half-way point, take time to go through the dredged up ship from the Mississippi River, and then make your way through the cemetery. This National Military Park is a worthy tribute and a must-see destination if you're anywhere near it. You should reserve 1-3 hours to really do justice to the park, and drive through Old Vicksburg if you have time (where you can find the Coca Cola museum, and a cute coffee shop that often has live music).

Lastly, if you get the opportunity to drive along any part of the Natchez Trace Parkway that stretches from Natchez, Mississippi to Nashville, TN (it passes through Tupelo, if you're interested in a pretty neat Elvis stop). This might actually be the glory of Mississippi. Be sure to pick up a specifically Natchez guide book, so you can soak up the history as you drive. I can do a full post just on the Trace, so I'll save my enthusiasm for it later.

Anyways, I'm still exploring. Mississippi is a beautiful state, and I've been really impressed with it, but the parks here? Eh.

The End of an Informal Affair

Going out in Mississippi is a fancy affair. Allow me to set the scene.

It's a Friday night, and you're a Yankee. Exhausted from a week of hard, worthwhile work, you decide to treat yourself to exploring a new restaurant in town. You convince other Yankee friends to join you, and you meet up at a casual place with interesting and exciting cuisine (think Greenwich Village meets classic Southern meets retro diner).

Looking around upon entry, you wonder if you've crashed a birthday or anniversary party of some sort because EVERYONE is dressed to the nines: girls are in strappy dresses and heels with hair done-up (really up, some hair styles are reaching up to heaven); there's not a fellow to be seen without a sport's jacket. Looking down at yourself you see boyfriend jeans (clean?), darling hipster t-shirt (shoot, it's the one with the hot dog on it), funky bracelets, and while the hair is up, there's plenty of knots in it. You ask a friendly-looking couple on your way out if they're celebrating something, and they simply respond, "Nope, just being out."

I have a few thoughts about this. The first is that traditions of the Old South, especially when it comes to the traditions of courting, are, for the most part, still resonant. Without making too many stereotypes, this is pertinent to those who subscribe to the societal values.

On the formality of dress on a night out, I'm going limit my scope to girls. The difference I see is clear: in the South, fashion is much more formal and polished and uniform, in the North, the fashion is more trend-setting, and personal. Girls, even more so in the South, "dress up." Girls in the North, while they dress to impress, do a lot less of the fancy-formal dressing up. You may be asking, well is it all that different who are fashion-oriented and conscious of social status in the North? I think it is. This look to varying degrees is widely seen at any restaurant on any given night, with this accessory. A very northerner look, while still fashion-conscious, is much more comfy-casual. Is this because the temperature is much colder in the north, and we're used to bundling up and taking on layers?

The lesson in all of this? If you're travelling or relocating to the deep South, be conscious that going out is what it should be, a special occasion and something to be celebrated, and you should dress accordingly.

Double the Charm

In the English-speaking Catholic Church, it is customary to choose a saint you emulate to intercede on your behalf for the rest of your life. You choose this saint when preparing for the Sacrament of Confirmation. Part of this custom that I didn't fully understand at the time of my confirmation in 8th grade was that you take this saint's name and add it to your existing legal name. My first and middle name are Kelly Elizabeth, and wanting to keep things in my life simple, I decided to choose a saint with my name: St. Elizabeth (Ann Seton). I figured my middle name could just cover everything. On the day of my confirmation, I realized the Church doesn't work that way when I was introduced as Kelly Elizabeth Elizabeth. Hrmph. I am sharing this information with you, dear reader, so that no one thinks I am out to make fun of anyone's name or customs, for I am in no position to do so.

In the South, it is a common custom to be called both your first and middle name. As a teacher, I am plagued by this custom; it is challenge enough to remember first names!

Here's a typical conversation on the first day of school.

Yankee Teacher: Say "here" when I call your name, please excuse and correct me if I pronounce it wrong. Let me know if you'd like to be called by a nickname. Clara?

Student: Here, Clara Ruth, please.

Yankee Teacher: Thank you. OK...Sarah?

Student: Here! And it's Sarah Grace.

Yankee Teacher: OK...um, Ruth?

Student: Ruth Mayberry

Yankee Teacher: (sigh, thinking: really?) Fine....John?

Student: Here, but it's John Garrison, please, ma'am.

If you're a Northerner like me, it's a safe bet that the only person using your middle name is your mother, and when it's used, you're likely in big trouble.

However, I must say that I've quite gotten the hang the double first name thing (n.b. sometimes the double name is a double first name and then they also have a middle name). There's even a certain charm to it, especially because common middle names are family names, and if I've learned anything from southerners, it's that they know and love their history.

One of my favorites that I've heard is Mary Palmer. Now, I don't do the name justice, but said with the right southern drawl, and this name meets your ears with the southern comfort of cicadas in the summer. The woman who named their daughter this told me all her family's history in Mississippi, and as she traced it back to the Civil War (like most can and do), I imagined that her daughter will one day be able to share these stories and elucidate on the importance of knowing your heritage, and it's this part of some people's insistence to be called their first and middle name that makes memorizing two names for one student worth the effort.

Miscellaneous Observations Ed.

- Tithing for church is HUGE down here. While the salary range is lower than the national average and cost of living is appropriately less expensive, the weekly collection that churches post on the weekends has got to be at least double than what people give to their church up North. I guess I should have expected this, but last week at a very small Catholic Church in Clinton (with attendance at an average of 40-50 people per Mass with three Mass offerings that weekend), they reported a collection of $9000! Clinton is not the most thriving city in Mississippi, and so I nearly fell out of the pew when I saw this. I wonder what the Baptist churches are pulling in, because this state is only 2% Catholic.

- Politeness - It's unreal, really! Mississippians really want you to love Mississippi, and they'll feed you all their stash of catfish to prove it.

- Muscadines - they're everywhere and delicious in the late summer! There's muscadine jelly, wine, and there's got to be a muscadine face mask or a link to cancer prevention. Also, cheap. They're about $.80/lb, and that's a lot of muscadines.

- Armadillos- I see about 5 armadillos a week, still. I wonder if they're good enough to eat.

speaking of eating dead things...

- It's officially hunting season/ fishing season (my kids are out at hunting camp at intervals, I'm confused as to whether it's an excused absence or not) - Catfish "noodling" is apparently a big thing, mostly in the summer, people who are real "noodlers" call the technique the "hand grab" (obviously). I suggest you YouTube this, it's certifiable.

Armadillo Attack

Armadillos aren't just a Texas thing. In Mississippi, armadillos are everywhere. They are not cute, and I think I would rather come across a grizzly bear than an armadillo if I had the choice. Armadillo is Spanish for "little armored one," and there couldn't be a more fitting name for them.

Most of my 25-minute drive to work is spent on the picturesque Natchez Trace Parkway, a 444-mile single-lane highway (that, interestingly enough, Meriwether Clark of the Lewis and Clark expedition mysteriously died on...more on this later) that links Natchez to somewhere in Tennessee. Locals warned me to lookout for deer throughout the year and watch for cops, because a speeding ticket on the Trace will set you back about 350 bones.

One sun-shining morning on the trace I see something in my lane about 100 feet ahead. It's about the size of an armadillo, and unfortunately, this doesn't register, and I barely think about swerving to avoid it (I do have a terrible history of running over large objects). The next thing I know, I've run it over, but it gets stuck under my car, and I am dragging an armadillo under my car. My emotions are a mix of frustration, disgust, and horror. I drag it all the way to school.

I am steaming about this all day, and I tell my co-workers about it. Did you know that when armadillos get scared, like one may get when confronted with an approaching sedan in its path? It jumps straight up into the air. This must have been a handy defense back in the day when there were no cars, but I think it's high-time this creature found a new defense, because they jump just high enough to jump into the grill of a car (mine must have been slow, because I don't think it jumped).

Anyways, I make my carpool buddy hitch up the car with the tire changing thing after school to get the armadillo out, because there is no way I am going to drive another 30 minutes with an armadillo under my car, and apparently AAA's services do not include armadillo removal. Unfortunately, at this point in the mid-afternoon of late August, the armadillo stinks to high heavens, and there are about a thousand ants crawling. Eventually it gets dislodged.

But you know what that armadillo did to my car? It destroyed the bottom of my car with its hard shell! I take it into the shop, and the words "Well, I was driving on the Trace..." barely leave my lips, and the mechanic says, "You got an armadillo problem?" Aghast at the thought that this occurs so often mechanics expect a helpless girl with an armadillo problem everyday, I nod. $200 later, I have a new nemesis in armadillos, and I am not sorry that armadillo died.

A Town Full of Christian Hunters, Apparently

Having been in Mississippi for a couple weeks, there have been quite a few "southern moments" that as a Yank, I've tried to not be too shocked by. Yesterday I took my car in for an oil change. Let me just say, though, many things you'd expect to be open on the weekends aren't. Like a car wash. Isn't that what you get done on the weekends? Especially the town where I live, which could be best defined as conservative Baptist, the Sabbath is strictly observed, and it's offensive if businesses are open on Sundays. It's a little inconvenient, but not being able to do errands on Sunday does force you to spend time with those you care most about. I digress.

So, I took my car in for an oil change on Saturday, a standard affair. I'm sitting in the waiting area, sipping on bitter coffee, and I start flipping through the reading material on the coffee table: Hunting Illustrated Magazine, Hunting Bow Magazine, Bible stories for kids, etc..., and not one Time or Newsweek. What's the deal? I figure, well, if it's your business, it's up to you which magazines you want to subscribe to for it. But I'm still pretty curious, because I've been in a mechanic's waiting area plenty of times, and I've never seen this type of selection before. I ask the manager at the desk if he's a big hunter and politely comment on how interesting the magazines seem. He smiled at me, and said something that I've been hearing a lot of lately, "Ma'am, you're not from around here, are you?" I bat my eyes, and bashfully nod. He says, "Everyone in this town is a hunting Christian." I reply, "Everyone?" He says, "Everyone."

Gee whiz, I thought that was pretty interesting, and I get the feeling he was going for the shock factor, so I'm going to keep looking into his overarching statement.