Culture Shock

My dear brother, Shawn, encouraged me to blog about this event. Last week, I had the privilege of playing drums at a local deer farm.

I was asked by one of the owners, Colby, who happens to go to our church. He called me on the phone, and once I agreed to the engagement, he warned me in his southern accent, "Now remember, we're just a bunch of red-necks praising Jesus over here." The comment made me slightly concerned about what I had agreed to do, but a bit of excitement crept upon me at the prospect of being in a new musical situation which I have never previously participated.

Saturday-Practice

I arrived at the ranch. I had to call Colby's wife, Lisa, to let me inside the giant gate which holds all the deer on the property. I drove down and around the bend to the lodge, seeing a few giant deer along the way.

As I began to unload the drum set, a group of hunting guides and fellow musicians graciously helped carry pieces and parts of the kit inside the lodge, creating a train of people and equipment behind me. I was extremely appreciative of all their help because I probably would have needed to make eight trips to the vehicle to unload everything by myself.

By this time, people were shaking hands and introducing themselves. There was a mystic feeling in the air because I knew I was still in Michigan, yet I had been transported to an entirely different culture: Southern Hospitality.

I like Southern Hospitality.

There is a graciousness and charm with the "Yes, Ma'am" and "Yes, Sir" resounding. Great big smiles when someone says "Howdy, Ma'am" abound. People wanted to help and do everything in their power to "make a body feel at home."

I enjoy Southern Hospitality.

Alas, two difficulties of southern culture did present themselves to this Yankee city-girl. I struggled to understand the thick southern accents, and apparently southerners feel that you have to have some sort of physical contact in order to have a conversation. (My blood-relatives are laughing out loud right now because they know that I do not appreciate much in the way of physical contact.)

Previous to this experience, I though that Colby and Lisa had southern accents. After this experience, a realization came to me: Colby and Lisa have northern-washed southern accents. This means simply that both northerners and southerners think they speak with an accent of polar opposite directions. The people who were temporarily visiting Michigan had a significantly thicker and slower dialect.

I don't understand the need for physical contact while having a conversation, but when around Romans, do as they do, so I did. Many people did two handed hand-shakes, where the right hand is actually shaking and the left hand is holding the other person's right forearm. If both parties did this, a great strangeness would occur, but one of the two individuals apparently needs to do this for a proper southern hand-shake. Later, people had their hands on my shoulder or arm or an arm right around my shoulder while conversing. I grew accustomed to the cultural implications, but it wasn't easy for me.

The musicians were introducing themselves to me, and only one name stuck-Doug. I could understand him rather well in comparison to everyone else. He was the bass-playing preacher, who was a sarcastic kidder. Soon after the introductions were done, he asked me, "So, you put up with Lisa and Colby at your church?"

Feeling the need to fit in, I responded, "Well, Lisa isn't so bad." Everyone laughed, and we began to practice with our three instrument band.

I knew only two of seven or so song titles the group suggested. I figured I could follow along alright, but some difficulty existed. I was a bit nervous from culture shock, and they used southern musical terms, which didn't help me much. Compound that with the fact that I couldn't understand everything they were saying, and my nervousness grew.

I made it through practice with a lot of instruction. Everyone was very encouraging to me. Lisa and two other gals sang. They all had beautiful voices. I quickly learned that one gal's name was Jessie. Jessie helped me a lot because she would try to give me a vision for where particular songs were going.

After practice, I asked the other singer what her name was, again, and she answered, "Muh-LAY-nee."

After the longest three seconds of decoding ever, I responded with, "Melanie."

"That's right."

Whew! I had learned another name. During our conversation, I learned that the service was for the hunters and their kin-folk.

Sunday Service

On Sunday, Jeff, Keegan, and I returned for the church service. Apparently, the five day hunt was for physically and mentally challenged youth. Eight students had hunted, and seven shot at least one deer apiece. As we prepared for the service, one of the hunters brought back his latest trophy, a giant seven point. Keegan was very excited to see the deer in the back of the truck.

The service was great. I played alright, and the sermon was terrific. Doug challenged the hunters to look forward to their future, where there would be restoration, and not wallow in the past. Keegan paid close attention, which made me really excited.

After the sermon, Colby's father spoke to the group. He announced that hunting was ok, but everyone was there to meet his Jesus. Then, he challenged people to talk with him or Doug if they wanted to know more about Jesus. WOW! Hearing him say that was very powerful.

Next, the guides handed out camouflage Mossy Oak Bibles to all of the hunters. The ceremony brought many tears to peoples eyes. After that, everyone went outside to take pictures of the deer and kids.

After all of that, my family was allowed the privilege of fishing on the private lake and taking a tour of the 1,000 acre ranch. We saw so many deer that I couldn't even place a number with them.

What a great time! Maybe if they ask me to play again, I won't be so nervous.