As I was reading through old attempts at being a humor writer, I came across a subject that can't be much more Southern: (o)possums.
First, let's clear something up about the spelling. I know good and well the animal is spelled opossum. But we really say "possum". And I am one of those people who, even though it's correct, gets bugged when I see “an opossum”, because it makes me want to say “an ‘possum” and that doesn’t sound right. So, as a compromise, I will be referring to these mysterious creat-chters as (o)possums. As for the term of endearment, I will be using the word "possum".
When I was a young girl, my Papa affectionately called me “Possum”. Taking him literally, I took all I could stand before I finally corrected him: “I am not a(n) (o)possum! I am a little girl!” I was never called “Possum” again.
When I got the Go-Go Girls, Roxy and Boston, little Roxy Go-Go had the sweetest little ‘possum face ever. I couldn’t help talking about her cute little ‘possum face, but I never once called her “possum.”
When one of my old Auburn neighbors came to visit me in Birmingham for a weekend, and it came out in conversation he had never seen a live (o)possum before, I was hoping I could fix that for him.
Y’all, let me tell you, I was befuddled as to how someone born and raised in the South had never seen a live (o)possum. BE-FUDDLED, tell you.
Earlier in the day, my old neighbor and I went to Oak Mountain to see the Wildlife Rescue Center, and we went to good ol’ Browdy’s (may it rest in peace) for dinner before going to the Widespread Panic concert that night. (I guess now it would be a good time to mention I’m a good, Southern, HIPPIE.) Our relaxed, one-with-nature day, topped off with good food and good music, was capped off with a stop at my favorite bar ever, TC's (may it, also, RIP). Finally, with nothing left to do, we called it a night and headed back to my house.
As I was pulling into the driveway, I saw a raccoon scurry towards the backyard. I screamed at my old neighbor to look. I think he missed the raccoon, but as I pulled on into the driveway, there was the missing piece of the puzzle: a(n) (o)possum.
It wasn't just any (o)possum. This thing was standing on its hind legs, baring its teeth, making the meanest (o)possum face I have ever seen. And I think it was missing an ear. I locked the doors and insisted we not get out of the car until I had decided what to do. My old neighbor didn't seem to get it. (O)possums are very likely rabid, duh! And judging by the scowl on that one's face, I wouldn't be surprised if it was.
I made us sit in the car for about 20 minutes before I decided it just had to be safe enough to make a mad dash for the house, just in case the (o)possum decided to come back and attack us.
There, y'all. My first REAL Southern post. As I was telling my mother about it earlier today, I mentioned I didn't know what was much more Southern than (o)possums, and she just had to top me with ... (drum roll, please) ... ARMADILLOS (i.e. (o)possums on the half shell). Let me be honest here: I (and I think I am in the majority on this one) don't think I have ever seen a live armadillo. Maybe once, but it was never confirmed, and I don't have a colorful story to go along with it, so y'all will be the first to read all about it when I finally do see my first (confirmed) live armadillo.
