While discussing various relations, a friend of mine credited the size of his family to his Italian heritage. I thought it an interesting observation—then I wondered what my heritage says about me.
When you can trace your ancestry back some 200 years and still find yourself in the southeastern United States, I’d say you’re pretty stinkin’ American—and dang Southern. We may currently reside in Alabama—but prior to that we were Georgians—and once upon a time we were Carolinians (of the northern sort—and that’s about as close to Yankeedom as we come!).
Okay, okay—I have heard rumors that our roots are some blend of French and English. We’re very Anglo. (Oh, and when I was young I told people we were part Swedish, ‘cause I thought it sounded cool. And part Cherokee, but that part is true, though miniscule.)
But mostly I’m just Southern, and from what I’ve heard, it shows. Save for my Yankee sister, my family exhibits a Southern drawl. (I don’t hear it, but others insist it’s there.) I’m a diehard football fan, and that was actually a factor in both of my college selections. We can cook, we can eat, and we’ve got that hospitality thing (and its accompanying sets of rules!) down pat.
The weirdest thing anyone has noted about my Southern heritage is my appearance. I didn’t know you could look Southern—I’m not sure you can look Southern! But apparently something about strawberry blonde curls and fair skin screams Southern belle.