Her exact words were "Praise the Lord--we have an ice maker!"
Who can blame the delivery guy for raising his eyebrows at me and asking where we went to church.
We'd lived in North Carolina for five years by then, so you might think that I was used to that question. But since we'd left the tiny town of Reidsville (pronounced Rades-vull) for the thriving metropolis of Greensboro, it hadn't come up quite as often. For that first year, though, whew! I wasn't sure what to think...
I was charmed by "Southerners" from our first neighborly contact. Now the folks in Michigan are fine, friendly folks, but we'd grown up with them. They were family. Being in North Carolina--at least for the first little while--felt like being "company."
Our neighbors were lovely. They didn't waste any time in making us feel welcome, bringing cookies and proffering dinner invitations. And they were eager to suggest preschools, realtors, doctors and shopping outlets (the likes of which Michigan hadn't seen at the time.) They told us where we could pick strawberries, go running, play tennis or swim in a pool. (The YMCA had it all, including new friends with common interests). And churches. They all invited us to their churches--even the guys who helped us wheel our groceries out to the car. They'd ask, "Have y'all found a church yet? I go to......You should come this Sunday." I was not bothered by the question--just surprised that it was one of the first things that people offered. I was charmed.
Soon, though, it started to feel like we didn't quite fit our new place. We would never be them. It was probably our own fault, but we had a vague feeling that we were other. We realized what we'd been missing the night we made the half-hour drive to Greensboro for dinner and a movie. Bigger city, more people, more kinds of people. Yankees!
Thirty-two years later Greensboro is still home. It's where our son was born, where both kids grew up and where we've made lifelong friends. There are plenty of charming Southerners here--some of my best friends, in fact. But lots of other people from lots of other places. We like it here.
But we liked Reidsville, too. I was taken back there the day we got our new refrigerator.
I had kept Meagan home from school, planning to drive her there when I went to work. We would both be a little late, in order to accommodate the morning delivery. The guy was prompt and efficient. And he had one of those "country" accents that I love. He explained all the things I would need to know about our new appliance, including--opening the freezer door--Ta-Daaa--the ice maker. (I swear there was a fanfare.)
That was when Meagan delivered her line...
"Praise the Lord--we have an ice maker!"
I like to think the man was praying for our heathen souls as got into his van and drove away.
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