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Appreciate Southern Hospitality

There’s always something to complain about. It’s just human nature. Those of us who live in this beautiful area are no exception. We complain about the traffic, the urban sprawl, the quarry, the Bible Park, the cameras at traffic lights. I’ve been here for more than 10 years, and I do it too, until I go back ’home,’ where I was born and raised, to Chicago. Then I remember all the reasons why so many of us choose to live in Tennessee.

My family still lives in the Chicago area. I have to admit, I’ve always loved the city. It is beautiful, and there are so many wonderful things to see and do there. Sometimes when my family asks me for the umpteenth time if I ever think about moving back, it crosses my mind. Why do I stay here? Why don’t I move back there? I love the Cubs. What would it be like to go back to Wrigleyville again, to hang out on the north side? I love the Museum of Science and Industry. I remember being quite enthralled with the ’newspaper’ room when I was younger. Of course the amenities are too many to mention: the lake and the beaches, the bars and the nightlife, the shopping and the food.

But then I go up there and remember why I never seriously entertain the thought of moving. There’s the concrete, everywhere; the lack of trees; the phenomenal amount of people in any given area. And there’s the traffic. The worst of it all is the traffic. You basically have to travel between 10 and 2 during the day and after 8 at night in order to get anywhere, to avoid ending up in a parking lot: this in a city that is served well by public transportation.

There is something more, though. I feel I am entitled to say this because I was born in Chicago and lived there for the first 21 years of my life. There is something that we have here in Tennessee that I don’t often find when I visit Chicago: the gentleness, the relaxation. I guess it is like the clich’ I heard growing up, how it’s more laid back in the ’South.’ But the truth is, it really is more easygoing here. Once I moved to Tennessee, I learned how to perfect the art of small talk. I learned how to talk to my neighbors. I learned to take the high road when driving and let the other driver in, to take it easy, to let things go. There’s something else I learned here, too, that I never learned there: to show respect during a funeral procession.

My latest trip to Chicago was a sad one. I went to attend my father’s funeral. We had a long drive (in Chicago terms) from the funeral home to the cemetery. There weren’t a great deal of cars in our procession. Most of my father’s friends and family have already passed on, and many of the ones who are still here live far away and aren’t well enough to travel. We did not have a police escort. We weren’t even able to follow along through the red lights. It was difficult for the driver of the hearse to keep us all together driving through those congested city streets. We had to fight the traffic. Not one driver pulled over. Not only that, but we had someone trying to parallel park right in front of us.

The worst part was when a woman pulled in front of the car I was riding in, right in the middle of our line, oblivious to the fact that we were following a hearse. She must have been too busy to notice our burning headlights or the flags that said ’funeral’ waiving on the tops of our cars, or she didn’t care. It made me quite angry, and I honked the horn so she would move into the other lane and let us proceed together. Instead of cooperating, she flipped us off. I am driving to the cemetery to bury my father, and this woman gives us the bird. I honked the horn a few more times, and I guess she finally figured it out and moved to the right lane. I have no idea if she realized what she did or if she felt sorry.

This is something I can’t see happening here. I have spent 10 years pulling to the side of the road for funeral processions, to show my respect: for the dead, the families, the friends and loved ones. The first time I ever did it, I was amazed, because everyone pulled over. Not only the people on the procession’s side of the road, but on the other side as well. I had never seen that before. I admit that on occasion, if I am in a hurry and it is a long line of cars, I get impatient and wish for it to pass. That’s human nature, too, I suppose. But now I realize how something insignificant to me can be so important to those following along to the funeral.

That woman in Chicago made me so angry. Afterward I figured it was just ignorance that made her do that. I am so glad I live in a place where respect and gentleness and kindness are apparent, in ways small and great. I will try to remember that the next time I complain about something.

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