The Second Question

Not long ago I was having coffee with some friends when one of the ladies at the table made an interesting comment. I was returning from the men’s room and was not in on the current conversation. It was our usual Friday morning gathering at the gym. After exercise we would gather for coffee. Janet was saying, “ and they never invited me to another meeting.” I did not hear the beginning of the discussion. 

Of course we wanted to know why. She said in a curt New England accent, “I think it was because I said we didn’t go to church.” 

“H-m-m,”  I thought to myself.  I could envision what had happened. A group of local ladies enjoying afternoon tea with my friend as the new kid on the block. She was probably the only one in the group that did not use the contraction ”y’all”. Janet was experiencing a clash of cultures. She couldn’t understand what had happened. I said, “I don’t know why, but in conversation with new members of the community, usually the second question asked is ''What church do you go to?’. But I don't think it is as common as it used to be.”

Rob wanted to know, “What is the first question?”

“Where do you live?” I responded. 

Janet asked me, “ You’ve lived here a long time.  What do you think about this obsession with church? These girls didn’t seem very religious to me.”

“You are right, Janet. I have lived here all my life. Admittedly, we Southerners are perceived of being a bit different. But about the church thing, let me say I don’t know. I remember my momma  usually knew what churches people went to. We were Baptists. But we knew some folks that were Methodists. Daddy’s folks were all ARPs.  I guess church was a big part of our lives. Daddy became a teetotaller after he had a fight with a State Trooper. And after that Daddy said that if you put your feet under his table, you went to church on Sunday morning. So I did. I don’t think most people are as religious as they used to be, though.  But I don’t have an answer to your question, Janet. Maybe the professor has an answer.”

The professor was retired from the University of South Carolina. Although he was not a native South Carolinian, he was respected in his field of early American history. He looked up from his coffee over the rimless glasses while stroking the imaginary hair of his bald head. He spoke in a rumbling baritone voice which probably evoked fear in college freshmen. “I believe such action is just another facet of Southern culture.”

 

John Bryson spoke up. “ Just what do you mean by another facet of Southern culture?”  John, with that slow drawl of someone conceived under a magnolia, could recount the heroic exploits of his ancestors in the War Between the States at a moment’s notice. And he exhibited a basic distrust of anyone from north of the Mason-Dixon line. John readily accepted deposits at his family's bank from our recent emigres but wouldn’t accept them into his foursome at the oceanfront links of his country club. 

“I think it has to do with the agrarian nature of the South. You see the South has always had an agricultural economy. At least up until the late nineteenth century. Until then there had been very little manufacturing in the South.”

Bryson spoke up. “I don’t see what farming had to do with it!”

“Let me tell you what I think,” Professor Bob said. “Back in the old days when everybody farmed, people didn’t see much of each other. They didn’t see each other often like people in the northern cities did. The only time they met others was at church. So it was very important to know what church people attended. There might be acquaintances in common.”

“That may very well be, Professor, but I still think they were just rude!” Janet said.