People sometimes ask me, "Lin"- they always call me Lin, except the formalists, who call me Lindsay- "Lin, you spent thirty years about as far from home as you could get.
"I know that is so because I heard Garrison Keillor say so when he read you a birthday greeting on the Prairie Home show back when. Why are you back, especially now, what with HB2 and all?"
And I have to tell them, there is a crazy the South manufactures that is like a drug.
You just can't live without it. If you are born here, you're born with it.
If you are away too long, you get twitchy and contemporaneous.
It's like what golf writer Henry Fairlie said of the yips: once you've had 'em, you've got 'em.
Tonight on the news, I heard two stories that will explain it to y'all as best as I know how.
As Miss World, aka UN Ambassador Nikki Haley, arrives in New York, bitch-slapping foreign diplomats with palmetto fronds, the York County SC court clerk removed Confederate flags from six locations in the courthouse, thinking the New South Carolina then-Governor Haley championed had moved past all that, and that it was an affront to many to see such claptrap in a court of law.
Now you put those right back, the judges said, citing the South Carolina Heritage Act. The entire South Carolina legislature has to sign off on such desecrations.
Mother Emanuel, avoid Rock Hill.
But here's the clincher, in Story #2. In Weddington, part of Charlotte's Great White Southern Triangle, a family was out this morning tracking Pokemons on their Go devices.
In the shrubbery at Southern Evangelical Seminary, their quest led them to a dead man. Right out there in front of Republican Jesus and everybody.
And that, as Phil Harris used to sing, is what I love about the South.
The Seminary, by the way, has has not made a comment.