Bless Your Heart

This past February marked 40 years that I have lived and worked in Atlanta, Georgia. Michelle and I moved here from Akron, Ohio in 1984 to seek our fame and fortune, or escape another Ohio winter, or both, it was a long time ago and my brain doesn’t always fire on full blast, and it makes it hard to remember sometimes. But we obviously liked it and decided to make it our new home.

It was a significant culture change for us in so many ways. We moved from the north to the south, we left a city of 300,000 and started over in a city that at the time was about 1.5 million people. The population is now closer to 7.5 million. Akron was on a downward trend and Atlanta was booming. Most everyone we knew in Ohio had been there their entire lives as well as their families. Most had lived on the same street and in the same house for as long as anyone could remember. Most of the people we met and started doing life with, in Atlanta, were from somewhere else in the country. It was very interesting to see the differences in folks and to hear stories that were a lot different than mine.

Prior to moving away from the Rubber City, my exposure to the southern United States was what we saw on television. Most of the shows would put southerners in an “iffy” way. Slow, barefoot, talked funny, etc. The typical stereotypes. I was looking for Boss Hog and the General Lee to come zooming around the corner. I was also shocked to find out that my new friends below the Mason-Dixon had some interesting thoughts and stereotypes of northerners as well. We each had a felt false superiority over the other which was actually hilarious to experience.

After being here for just a short period of time I soon realized that maybe it was ME that was the hayseed and not the other way around. When I first hit Peachtree Street in my Chevy Chevette and started getting past by more Mercedes Benz and BMW’s than I had ever seen. Back then foreign cars in Ohio were not looked on favorably when a lot of the people we knew counted on domestic cars for their livelihoods. Not many I knew could afford cars of that nature either. I quickly realized that I was not in Kansas anymore Toto and that my new home was a very big and busy city with tons to explore. Don’t misunderstand, there is a reason there are stereotypes and Atlanta has its share of some “true southerners.”

One way NOT to make new friends was to offer this tidbit, “Back in (insert northern city here) we did it differently than “you guys” do down here.” “Let’s do it my way, what do you think? The response generally said back to us was, “Delta is ready when you are Yankee!” It was the first time I had ever been called a Yankee. Being from Ohio, I always thought people up in the northeast (New York, Boston) were “Yankees.” I also learned that I had an accent. I would try and correct them and let them know that THEY had an accent, not me. However, I found out quickly that they could judge pretty quickly what part of the Midwest I was from by my “funny way of talking.”

One of the more challenging and interesting adjustments to my new world was picking up southern slang and jargon. For example, I was getting gas for the car one night and the attendant saw me trying to figure out how to get the pump going and called out to me through the speaker, “Mash the Cash Button!” Well, the only thing I had ever mashed in my life up until then was potatoes. It took me a few more times of her yelling at me to figure out that I needed to PUSH the cash button on the pump. Then of course there is the many different derivatives of You (Y’all, All Y’all, Your Mom and Them, etc.). There was also getting used to calling things something completely different to what we called it “back home,” including calling any soft drink (pop) a “Coke”, a grocery cart was now a “buggy.” If you were thinking about doing something tomorrow, you were now “fixing” to do something tomorrow. The one I have had the most trouble dealing with has been “might could.” “I might could swing by tomorrow and mow your grass for your mom and them if you’re fixing to be home.” It was like a knife to the small of my back and cringeworthy. But after forty years they have converted me to a “Damn Yankee” which is someone who moved here from the north and never left. Don’t get it twisted though, Atlanta is an amazing place to live and there is a bunch to do which is why the population continues to soar.

Another tough one for me was also being expected to call another grown man, Bubba. I can’t and don’t to this day. I met this one fella that was the father of some of the kids my girls swam with on a local team. His name was Tom but, he asked for me to call him Bubba. I said, “Tom, I know that you like to be called Bubba, but I just can’t do it sir. So, I became the Damn Yankee that calls me Tom.

Another thing you have to get hip to is, the kind way people may be treating you when they are actually insulting you with their southern charm. The title of the blog today is one of those ways. If some nice southern belle looks at you and says, “well bless your heart”, you have just been insulted and called an idiot. You may think “how nice, she really cares about me.” You would be wrong. It is akin to being told in the north that “you are a special kind of stupid” but with a charming tone of voice and a smile, but they still think you’re an idiot.

Today’s blog will be one of those times for me when the sweetest little old ladies smiled and said to me, “Bless Your Heart” and then turned around and laughed at me with her friends and all the time I was thinking they were so nice and really liked the Rutmachine.

But First…A Joke:

A man woke up after a risky procedure. He shook the doctor’s hand in gratitude and said, “I wouldn’t want to insult you by offering you money. But I would like you to know that I’ve added you to my will.” That’s very kind of you,” said the doctor. “Can I see that prescription I just gave you? I need to make a little change.”

Bonus Dad Joke:

A book fell on my head. I only have my shelf to blame.

A Verse to Contemplate:

If anyone says, “I love God”, yet hates his brother, he is a liar. For anyone who does not love his brother, whom he has seen, cannot love God, whom he has not seen. And he has given us this command: Whoever loves God must also love his brother. I John 4:20-21

Have I Told You This One?

For starters, I wish I could say that this was the one and only time that anyone has said “Bless Your Heart” to me, but I would be lying. However, this one is a pretty good one if I do say so myself. This little firecracker of a lady will be in my memory banks for the rest of my life (hopefully)!

When I was an elder of a church in Roswell, Georgia one of the former elders approached me and asked if I would be interested in “preaching” on a rotation basis with some other guys from church for a nursing home that was close to the church. These elderly men and woman couldn’t get out to attend church, so the idea was to bring church to them. I felt honored to be asked and I was inserted in the rotation with a few guys to where I was speaking to the group once or twice a month. For those who knew me when I was a kid, you did hear that correctly, Mark Rutledge was asked to preach to a group of people. Miracles happen every day my friends.

My first time to lead the service approaches fast and the actual thought of doing it started to make me a little nervous. I’ve never been afraid of getting up and speaking to groups of people but for some reason this one was making the butterflies in my gut a little stronger. Sunday arrives and after church I drive to the nursing home and meet with the management, and they lead Michelle and I to this small room where the “sermon” will take place. I look over my notes one last time and then the folks start to wheel themselves into the room. They park their walkers in a corner of the room and sit down in the back row. Even in this no one wants to sit up front!

Michelle and I are the youth movement of the day, and these precious souls come in and take a seat. There was probably a dozen for my first time. I can’t tell you why, but I am now starting to sweat like crazy and I’m more nervous than I have ever been in front of a group. As they file in, I’m trying to introduce myself and find out their names and just make small talk.

I calm myself as I start with an opening prayer and play a few hymns on a portable boombox I brought in. I start to feel better about things, and I give a quick glance at Michelle, and she gives me a nod that says, “You’ve got this, it will be just fine, go get em’! After the songs finish, I make a fatal mistake. Instead of just going into my presentation, I think it is a good idea to ask a few questions. After each question they look at me like they didn’t hear me, or they just want me to get on with it. I feel like I have to fill the room with noise instead of just letting it be silent and I ask (wait for it), “This is a real nice place (it was), Do you guys like living here?” As soon as it left my mouth I wish I had a human redo button to bring the words back. Let’s see Rev, do we like not being able to live in our own homes but instead live in a nursing home? Is that the question you are asking…seriously?! I swear it was like I walked into a room full of cats. You could hear a pin drop. I take another quick glance at Michelle and this time she has a look on her face like, WHAT?

I am just about to chalk it up to opening day nerves and this one lady in the back who I thought was asleep or bored to death, spoke out and said in a booming voice, “What did he say?” The lady next her said, “He wants to know if we like living here.” The first lady looks at her friend and then to me and says, “Bless Your Heart!”

I think to myself, well that was nice of her and everyone else was laughing rather loudly. I shrug my shoulders and go on with my presentation. Once it ends, I thank everyone for coming and Michelle and I head out to the car. Once in the car, I asked her how she thought it went and she starts laughing (by the way, NOT the response I was hoping for). “Why are you laughing?” She then begins to explain to me what “Bless Your Heart” really means and I eventually laughed it off (eventually!). That little four foot nothing firecracker got me good. I will let you know that I learned from my mistakes and never asked that question ever again.

So, if you ever are in the south having a lovely conversation with some southern folks and they drop a Bless Your Heart, just know that you have been warned.

A Prayer:

Heavenly Father, I don’t want to be a fool, deceiving myself to believe I know what’s best for me. Reveal Your ways to me and give me the courage to follow wherever You lead.

Book Recommendation:

Finishing Strong (Going the Distance for Your Family) by Steve Farrar (1995)

Music Recommendation:

Second Nature by Flying Colors (2014)

Quote of the Day:

“Once upon a time there was a boy who loved a girl, and her laughter was a question he wanted to spend his whole life answering.” - Nicole Krauss