We'l Hey, How Y'all Doin'?

As long as I have been walking the earth, I have heard the women in my family greet old-time friends, strangers and sworn enemies with a single salutation, "We'l hey, how y'all doin?" Often this single phrase can take up to a minute because it is always coupled with neck hugging, voracious upper arm patting, fervent fan waving or the silence of a half smile and piercing eyes that beckon for your deepest emotions and request for a piece of cobbler, a MoonPie or a cold drink.

Simply, true ladies in the South do few things without production or sincerity.

Thus, I say "How y'all doing?" At the moment, I am fresh out of MoonPies but I can offer the occasional spin of my ladies of the South. For years, I have told charming, humorous and blatantly honest stories about these women. At parties, my social anxiety is eased somewhat when I offer a quip about my mom's endeavors in the avenues of gun control by refusing to purchase bullets for the small pistol she carries in her designer purse. I feel a little more charming when I relate my grandmother's simultaneous ancestral obsessions with the French monarchs and Robert E. Lee. Many have smiled when I recount fond Thanksgiving memories flavored with the stench of smelling salts because fainting was served in a portions that rivaled only the dressing.

This is my attempt to praise the wisdom, humor and hysterics of these women. They have taught me well and I hope their lives are as refreshing as a cold drink from the corner store. My mother would be proud to know that regardless of how many times I have told these stories all over the world that I have never, and I mean never walked down a street and smoked a cigarette at the same time.