Mason-Dixon Food

Three years ago if you asked my children “What are greens?” They would have stared at you and said, “You mean like pea green or sea foam green?” Okay, only Ariel would have known that sea foam green is a color, but you get what I’m trying to say. My kids were Northern children and would have had no idea that you were asking them about food. If you made it clear to them that it was a vegetable discussion, they might have come up with broccoli, asparagus, cabbage, lettuce, and maybe even bok choy. But that would have been it.

One of our trips to Walmart brought it home to me.

Keller child, pointing to vegetable bin: Mom, what’s that?
Me, reading bin label: Mustard greens.
Keller kid, pointing to another bin: And that?
Me: Uh, Collard greens
Keller kid: And those weird things?
Me: Well, it looks sort of like kale, but the bin says “turnip greens.”
Keller kid: So, people actually eat that?
Me: Apparently.
Keller kid: In a salad?
Me: No, they cook them
Keller kid: Why?
Me: (shrug)
Keller kid: What do they taste like?
Me: No earthly idea.
Keller kid: They look gross.
Me: Yep—another reason to be thankful you eat at our house.

In our home, we tend to eat things that aren’t leftover when the plant has already been harvested for something else like turnips or mustard. (Though in all honesty, I don’t really know that mustard greens are what’s left over when you harvest mustard seeds.) But it seems like a good excuse to me.

The rest of the kids came in contact with “greens” when the church was collecting food for poor families in the neighborhood. Big baskets were left on a table at church, and members contributed to the baskets. My children were looking through the baskets and came across big cans of “greens.”

Keller kid, holding up a can of greens (not the one who accompanied me to Walmart): What is this?
Me: Greens.
KK: People eat this stuff?
Me: Some people.
KK: I thought you always said we were supposed to give the best of what we had to the Lord, instead of the stuff we wanted to get rid of.
(At this point a Southern church member gets involved.)
Church member: Honey, haven’t you ever had greens before?
KK: No.
Church member: Connie, you’ve had greens before, right?
Me: Nope.
Church Member: They’re delicious.
Me and KK, trying to humor obviously crazed church member: Really?
Church member: Yes.
Me: I think we’ll be sticking to salad and corn with our turkey.
Church member, feeling sorry for my deprived family: Oh.

I also don’t do yams/sweet potatoes/rutabagas/black-eyed peas. I have been known to eat hush puppies and lacey corn bread—but that’s the whole fat, flour, salt thing. Some people have tried to convince me that greens are cooked in fat, salt, etc., but I’m not buying it. I’ll stick to bok choy with green curry sauce.

Mason-Dixon Driving

Our son and daughter have both learned to drive in Tennessee. My husband and I did not. I learned to drive in Hawaii where traffic was an art form and guard rails were unheard of on the twisting mountain roads—a Darwinist approach to weeding out the bad drivers. Calvin learned to drive in the Central Valley of California, which might have been fine if he hadn’t driven a delivery truck in downtown Los Angeles during his college days. Driving a delivery truck in downtown LA means being able to run your package up four flights of stairs and be back before the traffic inches forward. It also means wedging your delivery truck fit into a space designed for a subcompact—a difficult but not impossible challenge.

So, Ariel categorizes us as aggressive drivers. Calvin and I aren’t sure what that means. Okay, so we talk to other drivers and point out their faults—that’s just being helpful, right? We frequently explain to people that if they can’t talk on the cell phone and drive at the same time, then they pull over before they place a call. I think that’s encouraging them to do the right thing—even if the only people that can hear me are in our car. Another example of Southern driving that elicits emphatic words and gesticulations is the left turn. For example, when making a left turn at a green light without an arrow, does one pull into the intersection so that one can make sure he/she gets through the light? Of course, one does!! Otherwise, it may take several changes of lights to get through the intersection—dinner will never get done! My daughter, however, informs me that the Tennessee driver’s test says: “You are making a left turn at an intersection. Do you: 1. Rudely pull into the intersection, thus ensuring that you can make your turn when the light turns red. 2. Politely wait for a break in the traffic when you can make your turn without stopping.” Guess which answer is correct?! I’d pick number one, but the correct answer is two.

FYI, Calvin speaks to the traffic too when someone rudely doesn’t pull into the intersection and is going to make our dinner late! So, all you Southern drivers, when you're making a left turn, pull into the intersection when the light’s green! Thanks.