You can't go home

Heraclitis is attributed to have said that you can not step in the same river twice.  Supposedly this is a comment on the changing nature of the river and even yourself in that time necessitates change.  Going home for the holidays makes me question that logic sometimes.  One of the aspects of growing up in the deep rural south is that you have a very clear idea of what consistency is.  What some call tradition others see as stagnation.  I call it an unsettling feeling of nostalgia.  Can you call it deja vue if you really did do it before?  Strains of Jeff Foxworthy monologues play to my ears as I visit local establishments.  So I collect here some tidbits of info for the outsider that they should know.

Country folks are not dumb.  They may not know what's playing on Broadway or what Facebook is but they are extremely clever and visitors dismiss their intelligence at extreme peril.

You are expected to wave to or at least acknowledge everyone.  Growing up in the sticks you are taught to hold your head up and look others in the eye.  If a man can't do this he is obviously up to no good.  The wave to a stranger is a simple way of saying, 'I see you and I know you see me and I have nothing to hide.'

During introductions it is best to identify local relations.  Who you are is intertwined with who your 'people' are.  When I go to church with my mom, we always sit on one side because another clan sits on the other.  If given the option though, you will want to emphasis the more upstanding members of the family over the black sheep.  In a small town everybody knows that the mayor's brother is a drunk but which one you claim relation to first says something about what you value in a relative.

Expect that everyone will have heard of your visit within a day.  As a visitor, you are exotic and an interesting topic of conversation.  Eventually something else will replace you on the front page but never be surprised that seeming strangers know quite a bit about who you are.

Respect personal property.  Just about anybody you talk to will gladly let you borrow this or that or pass through a pasture but outright trespassing and theft (and also slander of another man's cow) will more often than not get you shot at and these are a people who generally hit what they aim for.

When I visit home I often find myself wondering if I am right to not live in the town that raised me.  It's a kind of sadness that I cannot repay the intangible education of my experiences to a community that needs good smart people.  Eventually I come to the same conclusion that I could not live there.  My career wouldn't exist and I would not have gone and seen the many things I have but that dread sense of responsibility remains.