I was living in the Keys and getting a haircut one day and my hairdresser was telling me how radical the local people are about one’s heritage in the Keys. It seems that the locals look down on anyone who was not actually born there, (such as my wife and me, who had lived in the Keys for six years, but were not born there).
They refer to themselves as “Conchs” and everyone else who lives there as either “outsiders”, or the lowest of the low, “Tourists”. Conchs wear white boots and “wife beater” sleeveless shirts while fishing and it’s fairly easy to spot one. She told me that their attitude extends even beyond one generation. For example her son was born in the Keys, but they snort contemptuously even at him, and derisively refer to him as being a lowly “Freshwater Conch”. It seems that one must be third generation in order to snag the coveted “Saltwater Conch” status, (the real deal).
I’ve seen this phenomenon all over the country including even where I live now. Some of my neighbor’s kinfolks obviously got off the Mayflower and then proceeded to walk directly to this area. They are very proud of their heritage and being a seventh generation Madison County Florida aristocrat. When they ask me where I’m from, I explain that I’m not from anywhere. I went to 19 schools all over the world, so I suppose they could take their pick. I do proudly point to the fact that my little dog “Coopie” is fully registered and has blue blood flowing through his veins including a long line of champions.
One of my sons bought a vacation home in the mountains of North Carolina in a little town called Cashiers. A friend who lived up there for some length of time told me if I ever go up there that I should refer to it as “Cashurs” and not “Cashiers” or everyone would know that I wasn’t a local.
Yikes! That’s scary; or is it?
Hmmm . . . I asked her why I would want someone to think I was a local. She was too stunned to answer, and her mouth just hung open as she thought about it. Obviously she’d never thought of why originally being from this sleepy little town high up in the scenic mountains of North Carolina was such a coveted thing that I should try to trick people into thinking I was originally from there.
I feel the same way about being a “Conch”, or even being a prestigious “Saltwater Conch”, (OMG!).
I mean who wants to wear white boots and a wife beater shirt? What’s the big deal about being third generation from the Keys?
This phenomenon is not localized. Some southerners refer to everyone up north as Yankees. There is also the “Damn Yankee” designation; this is reserved for northerners who come down south for a visit and like it so much that they won’t go back.
It seems this xenophobic attitude is ethnic and racial too. Black, white, yellow, red, or brown, all have ethnic and even racist slurs for each other and often hate one another. I wonder if God had created purple people if folks would refer to them as “Purple Peons”.
It has no place in church, but we see it there too. I got this e-mail the other day: “I spent 26 years of my life in the streets living as a prostitute just trying to get my next fix, eating out of dumpsters and sleeping under the pier. I have a ministry for women coming out of prison, there are so many days that I feel so discouraged and some days defeated. People are not knocking the door down trying to help with this ministry, as a matter of fact most CHURCH people think they are disgusting, and don’t deserve a second chance.”
Well what kind of God fearing church goer would help a former prostitute minister to current prostitutes?
Could be that they won’t help this poor woman because some of the good deacons might fear being recognized by one them is all I can figure.
I wonder if some people wonder why this gal turned to drug addiction and prostitution in the first place. Was that type of life her lifelong ambition as a young girl? I’ve never met an alcoholic or a drug addict that set that as a goal. Could she have been sexually or physically abused as a child? Was she brought up in abject poverty, or in a crime filled neighborhood where someone shoved crack in her face every time she walked outside? Was she a third generation drug addict prostitute?
Did anyone ever consider that she might have turned another direction if someone in a church might have shown her some love and compassion and invited her to church with them when she was just a vulnerable child, (even if she was dressed life a homeless dirty little waif)?
If we don’t like anyone different than us, then we definitely won’t like heaven, because there will be no discrimination there. I suspect that there will be all sorts of former ruffians, hypocrites, druggies, alkies, tall ones, short ones, fat ones, skinny ones, lawyers, pious ones, politicians, blacks, whites, brown, red, yellow, Yankees, southerners, who knows maybe even a few of the French will make it in.
What we will all have in common will be grace; the precious blood of Christ will cover us because Jesus loves every single one of us so much that He gave His life for us.
God created us all and He loves us all and He wants us to love each other. Think about this today will you. Love your neighbor, yeah the one who is a wino, has green teeth, tattoos, and dirty fingernails . . .
Matt. 22:38
Jesus replied: “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. And the second is like it: Love your neighbor as yourself.’”
October 29, 2013 – Click here to listen