Understanding the Codes

When I lived in Massachusetts, I tried to adopt a new code: I would not fill space in small talk with strangers. That is, most of the time, I remembered to stop myself before spurting more than “hi” and a nod. One instance of prompted over-sharing stands out from that time, and misunderstanding instigated it. While waiting in line for a campus parking permit a few days before classes began, a stranger behind me blatantly asked if I was OK. Surprised, I ensured her I was — or would be when I finally could move on with my day. She then stared pointedly at my right arm. 

Oh, mystery solved. 

There was a multi-colored bruise on my arm the size of a tea saucer. She had never seen the effects of a 12-gauge kick before and certainly not the markings of a mis-positioned one. This stranger who had no reason to speak with me crossed an assumed boundary to ask about my well-being — a serious inquiry, not small talk. Unlike my friends back home, she did not make fun of me for the misplaced bruising that announced to everyone I cannot shoulder a big shotgun. She instead simply made sure I was not in a harmful situation. In hindsight, I do not think we even exchanged names. 

Since that moment in line and my return home, I have not found myself explaining shotgun bruises to strangers; my community knows how a post-shotgun shooting arm looks. And, for the record, I have since parted ways with the 12-gauge. A small interaction overall, but one that challenged what I thought I knew about casual community support and place-based norms. 

I am now re-enmeshed in the north Georgia community I know best, and I am grateful for the distance that helped me pay attention to distinctions in place and civility. For example, last week in Dollar General I nodded at a stranger in passing. Ten or so minutes later, he reappeared with his own buggy and a small basket. With nothing more than a soft chuckle, he handed me the basket to dump my armload of dog treats and cleaning supplies into before he ventured across the aisle. This random one-sided nicety is not noteworthy despite its reiteration here, and a few years ago that moment would not have occupied space in my memory – much less make it into my writing. 

 Though weighted differently, these small acts of kindness are not unique to a particular area, community, or code, and I would be a liar if I said only people in Southern communities know how to support one another. However, Southern civility is something to notice and appreciate, especially because — due to casualness and regularity, at least in my experience — we become desensitized to it. Moments such as passing a shopping basket to an ill-prepared stranger are no longer thoughtful favors, they just are.