“Where are you from?” he asked as he scanned my groceries at the local WalMart.
“Why, I live here in Post Falls,” I answered innocently, even though I knew what he was getting at. In spite of having lived in Idaho for 13 years, and Kansas for 12+ years before that, people seem to think I still have a southern accent. I don’t hear it myself.
“No, I mean, where are you from originally?” See? I knew that’s what he meant.
“Oh! You mean my accent? It’s mostly from Louisiana and Arkansas.” I never know what to say since I lived in several different states growing up, due to Dad being a pastor and changing churches every few years.
“I thought so!” he said smugly. “Did you eat a lot of barbecue growing up?” Now, that one, I admit, caught me off guard. I had never been asked that before.
“Um. No. Not really. Why?” Beans-and-cornbread was on our menu far more often than barbecue.
“Oh, I had a mission in North Carolina and it seemed like they had a lot of barbecue in that part of the country. And people would tell you ‘God bless’ and things like that way more than they do around here. People get offended if you do that here.”
“That’s true,” I allowed. “We’re definitely not in the Bible Belt.”
He finished bagging my groceries and said, “Have a nice day!”
“You, too!” I told him. “And God bless!”
“Definitely!” he said.