Emily Gidcumb (emilygidcumb@hotmail.com) from 10.100.5.147 at 10/25/01 09:57PM
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    I was born and raised in the South. I am proud to be a Southerner. I honestly can't imagine living anywhere but the South. My family is extremely close. They are my support system, my cheerleaders, and my best friends. No matter what, I will always have home. Many of the best moments of my life have been sharing, eating, and laughing with my family, both immediate and extended. However, I believe there is an aspect of the Southern family that hasn't been examined. Often, the Southern community is a large family in and of itself. In my town, everyone knows each other. We know each other's parents and grandparents, where our daddies work, where everyone goes to church. We know secrets from yesterday and years ago. We know the hot spots: the bank on Friday morning, the football game on Friday night, Wal-Mart on Saturday. There is rivalry, back biting, and class barriers that are sometimes painfully clear. There is gossip, harmless and enjoyable, or hurtful and malicious. Tales of plastic surgery, affairs, drugs, and death can only be outrun by moving. We hurt each other, sometimes even on purpose. But, when one of our own is attacked, we band together and stand resolutely. We fight to protect and shelter those who belong to us. Never for one moment do we have to wonder if we will face the challenges of this life alone. Later, when the storm has passed and newcomers inquire of our pasts, we try to convey the depth of our history to them. They don't understand. They can never understand the blessing of being born into a Southern community that through shared pain and joy becomes an imperfect but real family.