When I was sixteen years old, I stood on a bridge near the city limits line and watched a small, street-sign be unveiled by the mayor. He was gregarious man who enjoyed his status and his accessories. He was easily recognizable by the sash he wore constantly, embossed with the word "Mayor." It was the middle of the day, and the "Sash Mayor," as some people called him, had commissioned the road signs for all the ways in and out of the city. I was there with a journalist from the community newspaper. I was a senior in high school and participating in a program in which I shadowed the journalist. She was sent to cover the signs. I went with her. We stood on a bridge near the city limits line with the mayor in his sash and a sign that said, "Welcome to Portsmouth, Ohio. Where Southern Hospitality Begins."
I read the sign and for the first time was aware of the slogan that spoke volumes about the town. I remember thinking, "Huh," when I first read it. It seemed just about right.
By the time I saw the sign, I'd been through the South several times. Every family vacation was spent walking a battlefield or a cemetery or both. On our way to Florida, we stopped to see cousins in Alabama. I read a lot of southern literature. Carson McCullers especially interested me. She seemed to know what life was like in towns like mine. People were lonely, they projected personalities onto you, they were odd and twisted and sometimes kind.
I loved the grand decay of the South. I loved the preserved houses - both grand and average. I loved the manners. I was too young to understand the underlying issues of class and race...that would come later. I saw that sign and I started comparing. I had a small inventory of southern values...
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