funny thing about the south

          I've been in Atlanta for a few weeks now.  Is it just me or is everybody's business everybody's business here?  I admit I'm given to eavesdropping, but you don't even have to work at it here to learn about "Martha Lynn's falling on the stairs on her way up to  the choir loft, bless her heart!"
          I was in the check-out line at Publix buying some tonic water.  The checker was a woman who was maybe 10 years my junior as was the man waiting to bag my purchase.  After scanning my item, she turned pointing my bottle at me and said:  "Quinine--you know what else works for leg cramps?  Pickle juice!"
          "Oh," I replied softly, aware that the others in my line and the lines on either side of me were now aware--if not interested--that I am a leg cramp sufferer.  I don't feel ashamed or guilty about my leg cramps, but I'm simply not ready for strangers to discuss them.
          This would never happen in Seattle.  No one comments on your purchases at the grocery store.  Of, course they don't smile or make eye contact either, but.....
          "I always just put some salt in my hand and lick it and the cramps go right away and I can go back to sleep," chimed in the rotund bagger.
          "Well, I said sheepishly, "we all have so much in common!  I may just stick with the tonic water."
          "You need to think about the salt.  It's always on hand and it works right away!  Is that sweet pickle juice or dill pickle juice?" he inquired turning to the checker,
          "Dill, of course!  It's about the salt.  You'd think somebody who recommends salt would know it's about the salt in the pickle juice."
          I was holding out my hand for my change, uncomfortable that I had inadvertently pushed my helpers onto the verge of a dispute.  People in other lines were paying, claiming their groceries and heading for their cars and I was still smiling stiffly and holding out my hand.
          "I think straight salt tastes a lot better than dill pickle juice,"  the  bagger offered.
          "Well, have you ever tried it?  Don't you like pickles?"  She was clutching my change but unaware that I was poised to receive it.
          "I like 'em OK in potato salad, but I never drank the juice."
          "Well, you oughtta try it," she said turning to me at last with my change.  She smiled sweetly as she emptied the coins into my hand.  "Good luck with your leg cramps, Sweetie!"
           It would not surprise me at all to return to that store and have some stranger approach me while I am examining tomatoes in the produce department.  She will inquire without even introducing herself, "How are your leg cramps, honey?"  And I will thank her for her concern.


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