A Love Letter to the South

Dear Southern Nation,

I was not born on your soil, but I love her passionately. I am the product of a man who had deep roots to Virginia, but never acknowledged that lineage, and an Irish immigrant mother. They never knew the South that I learned to love. 

I have traveled extensively throughout this beautiful Southern Nation. I have feasted on grilled meat outside of Dallas and German food inside Houston. I shot skeet with a few boys in Oklahoma and watched the Razorbacks blow a lead in some little bar not far from Little Rock. I went to Catholic Mass in New Orleans, ate Oysters on the Mississippi shores, and attended a Baptist fellowship outside of Shreveport.  I worked projects in Memphis, Nashville, and Johnson City.  However, the most important work I ever did in Tennessee was delivering supplies to the fire ravaged areas outside of Gatlinburg in late 2016. I met a people who knew God would restore them.

I married a native daughter of both Georgia and Alabama. It was her voice that first drew me to her. The sweet Southern sugar of a Southern girl’s words knows no equal. 

As I sat among my wife’s people at a reunion in South Alabama, I saw in them an Irish warmth I had only experienced in Galway and Cork. 

In Lexington, Kentucky I sat in a steakhouse and spoke to a waitress about politics for an hour, listening to her concerns about the United States. She had worked there for more than thirty years. She loved Kentucky more than anywhere else she had ever been.  From the rolling hills to the bourbon to the horses, Kentucky is beautiful.

In the break away republic of West Virginia, I met some of the nicest people over drinks in Huntington and Harpers Ferry. You have heard no heartier laughter from a group of people over a well timed joke. They are simply good folks. 

The Carolinas are a special place. I became a Marine on Parris Island, South Carolina. I worked in Moyock, Asheville, and Jacksonville, North Carolina.  I have dear friends in the Best and Worst Carolina – but I will not tell you which is which. 

I am drawn to Virginia by DNA.  My paternal ancestors arrived in Virginia about 1670. Since then, my girls were born in Virginia. I owned homes in Virginia Beach, Leesburg, and Richmond. I went to graduate school in Williamsburg. That beautiful country, with mountains to the West and beaches to the East is stunning throughout. It is so rich in history and culture, that she must be preserved. 

I marched at Charlottesville because I love Virginia and know her history is worth preserving at all costs – even if that cost came at a great personal price to me.  Radical Leftists will never know such sacrifice.  They are incapable of loving anything that much. 

Georgia, my wife’s home country, is special to me, too. Whether it is the intrinsic beauty of Savannah or that of Germanic Helena, there is an ease to the beauty of Georgia. Hank William’s, Jr., was right about that unique accent. Georgia is just pretty. 

Then there is my country, Florida.

From the moment I was introduced to her at the age of five, I loved Florida. My grandma’s home was in North Central Florida – a true swamp back then.  It was there that I learned how to play football and tried to feed my little brother to gators. When I was torn from Florida at thirteen, I promised I would return. Eventually, I did. 

St. Augustine’s antiquity is unparalleled in the Americas. I adore Florida to my core. From her beaches to her unbearable heat… from her alligators to her orange groves… from her crazy people to her loving people… Florida is my heart. The red saltire and Godly seal beckons me to do more for my beloved country. Florida is my homeland. 

For all the beauty that is the South, I give you my total heart. That Dixie flag flies high in my soul. You are my passion and I love this Southern Nation, so very much.

I always will.