William Zachry (zachry@utm.edu) from dialup01.utm.edu at 09/23/98 10:50PM
comment
    When I was growing up in the 1950's in southeast Tennessee, my grandmother--a wonderful, loving, Southern lady--corrected me when I called our domestic servant (OK, we called her the maid) a "lady." Apparently an African-American woman--at least, one who washed your laundry and cleaned your house--could not be a "lady". I didn't argue (good southern boys would not argue with grandmother) but I didn't agree. The maid's name was Carrie, and for years she washed and cleaned and ironed without complaint and with a kind and gentle spirit. Then and now, to my mind, Carrie was a very remarkable lady.