Back from Dixie...for now

Dear all,

Well, after numerous (!) hours in airports and planes, we have returned to our Wasatch perch. The trip, really, can only be called a roaring success, and we are incredibly thankful for the blessings we've seen.

For example, we now have a great apartment to live in. It took a little negotiation, but we prevailed. The good thing is that the apartment building was constructed AFTER Hurricane Katrina--thus, we don't have to worry about any of the lingering after-effects of the storm, like mold. (I was especially concerned about that when, talking to a member of the Hattiesburg Ward, which we will be attending, the member mentioned that all the roofs in the city had been ripped off. An exaggeration, perhaps, but perhaps not.)

Also--and I realize that this may seem relatively insignificant, but it isn't--we have gotten acquianted with the lay of the land. First off (and I know I've mentioned this before), Hattiesburg is carved out of the biggest forest I've ever seen--I think that the bottom half of Mississippi is nothing but one large pine forest, dotted with ponds and lakes and streams. Pretty, yes, but it can also be foreboding in a way. Having driven all over creation down there, we're a bit more comfortable with the environment.

We also went to church and met all the members, so we have acquaintances down there now. One young couple actually invited us over for dinner on Monday night, which was entirely too nice of them. Their two young sons, Evan and Caleb, were a royal hoot, showing off for M. like there was no tomorrow.

M.'s meeting with the director of the university library also went well. Interesting story: When cleaning out the library, the director found an original, first-edition copy of the Book of Mormon (!). Not having much need for it, the school auctioned it off and got $60,000.00. They bought an organ.

I will say that I'm impressed with how polite people in the South are. Children are better behaved in public settings, and, if you're a customer in a shop or older than someone, they usually will address you as "sir" or "ma'am." (That's depending on gender, of course. They don't address you as both, unless you give them reason to be confused.)

The Southern accent is both charming and challenging. For example, both M. and I felt that our accents were amazingly flat and tuneless when speaking to native Mississippians. "How're y'all dough-in?" they drawl, the soft words dripping languidly off their collective tongue like a deep-brown cognac. "Fine," we'd say, our clipped accents starting and stopping as quick as a drill sergeant's bark. Or so it would seem--eventually, we both started picking up the accent, which I don't know if we're supposed to, because some Southerners take offense at that, I've read.

Anyway, we could *usually* understand what people were saying, with few exceptions. One night, we decided to have typical Southern food, so we went to a nice restaurant that specializes in that sort of thing. The waitress, a happy, young blonde, cheerfully announced her name to us: "Hello, y'all. Welcome to The Crescent Cafe. My name is Sheh-a-are-ah!" I smiled, nodded, thinking that her name was "Sherry," and that she'd simply done the Southern drawl thing. Later, though, M. and I overheard her conversing with another table, which made their confusion known: "Say, what's yo' name, sugar?" "Sheh-a-are-ah!" she replied, "Y'all know, like Sonny and Sheh-a-are-ah!" Ah. Cher.

Once again, though, we have been so blessed, incredibly, totally blessed for everything to happen the way it has, and we are thankful. Very.