I was relaxing in my room with a couple of friends the day we returned from Arkansas, lounging around. It was roughly dinnertime, and I was a little hungry. "Y'all ready for dinner?" I asked my compatriots. They didn't notice it, but as soon as it had come out of my mouth I realized what I had said. 'Y'all?' Since when do I, and old school New Yorker, say 'y'all?' But it's true, in the few short weeks I spent in Arkansas I had already begun to adopt the mannerisms of speaking. It's probably a good thing we left when we did, enough longer and I would be saying "Y'all fixin' for some good eatin'? or maybe "Le's go grab us some grub!" Ah, and grubs. I've seen grubs before, in my days as a backpacker, but never in such proximity, or in such large groups. Like worms, only nastier, fatter, and with a bunch of little legs, they aren't the sort of thing you want popping up in the middle of your lunch. Or considered as lunch, that's just as bad.
But our next project is right here in Charleston, and indeed, we'll be spending a good amount of time in the South during the next eight months (Approximately eight months worth). Already the team has been lectured on the proper usage of 'fixin',' as well as when to use 'y'all' or 'you all.' I know te remainder of the year will be great, judging by the first spike at least, but I hope I'll be able to keep my cultural identity straight!
Despite their somewhat novel (To me, at least) way of speaking, our sponsors were really great people. Chris, the one in charge, was the serious, almost stereotypical southern-ranger type, right down to the wad of chaw he kept in his cheek at most times. Jim, the master of all trail work, was also great. He was sort of a bog-brother (The good kind, not the one who's always watching you) figure to a lot of us; we would toil for hours on end trying to get those flagstones to fit together properly (Or a close approximation thereof) and just as we were almost at the event horizon of fury, Jim would show up, and with a flick of his wrist, piece the stones together. He could find any rock for any space, or fit any rock into any space, whichever the situation required. All the while drawling on about his dog, Bucky (Roo, for short), or how his wife was a fantastic cook, or any number of topics, so that all our frustration and stress would melt away into the air and we could return to being our usual, hard core AmeriCorps selves.
All in all, I think we were immensely lucky to have such a great first spike. From great sponsors, to almost palatial housing (Toilets that flushed, most of the time), everything was so great for us from the first that, for the most part, we didn't mind lugging two hundred pound rocks up a mountain. My only concern is that now we might be spoiled!
Thomas Harris-Warrick