Sunday, April 11, 2010

A Southern Woman

Dixie Carter died last night and I did not.
Yeah.
Well, I have been accused of being self-absorbed and I just have to say, yes. Yes I am.

But honestly, I am so very sorry that Dixie Carter died. Her husband, the inimitable Hal Holbrook, released a statement saying that this is a personal family tragedy and I do certainly respect that but I would just like to take a moment and give credit where credit is due. And that woman, especially in her role in Designing Women, was a role model to me.

When I heard about her death this morning on NPR while I was getting the Mississippi Mud Cake ready to go into the oven which I am taking to the ashes-scattering ceremony this afternoon for my friend Jan's daddy, they ran that wonderful quote from the show about how This is the south. We don't hide our crazy people here in the south. We put them in the living room for everyone to see.

Or something very much like that. I remember that episode. That show covered everything from race relations in the south to body image to AIDS to sexism to single-parenting to the humiliation of getting your skirt back stuck in your pantyhose and walking down a runway unaware that your ass is showing to all and everyone.

One time back in the olden days, I was out with Mr. Moon and one of my brothers and he told me some things that my stepfather had done to him as a child and that ripped it. For some reason, none of the terrible things the stepfather had done to me had been enough to make me confront him because, well, I am probably still, to this day, terrified of him, but when I heard that he had done THAT to my baby brother, well.

I got up from my seat in the restaurant we were in and, this being pre-cellphone days, I asked the owner of the restaurant if I could make a long-distance call in his office.
"Sure," he said and with my brother in tow, I called information, got the asshole's number and called him. I lit into him like a bad boy with a string of firecrackers. I didn't give him a chance to speak. I just let it all out. And I realized, halfway through my tirade, that I sounded JUST LIKE JULIA SUGARBAKER and that made me so happy.
When I finally wound down, the stepfather said, "Mary, you don't sound like yourself."
"Ha!" I thought. And then I proceeded to tell him that if he ever touched another child in his life I would hunt him down and personally kill him.
Still sounding like Julia Sugarbaker, I am sure.

Ah. To find out that I had a Julia Sugarbaker inside of me was an amazing thing. Speak the truth and fear no man! said Stephen Gaskin. Tell the truth and shame the devil! Julia Sugarbaker would have said.

And I did both. And somehow, Dixie Carter gave me the courage.
Who knows how these things happen? I don't.

And I don't know much about the woman frankly, besides the fact that she was beautiful, a fine actress and seemed to have a loving marriage. Wikipedia says she was a Republican with Libertarian leanings who supported the gay community.

I don't know. But I do know that she, as her character, Julia Sugarbaker, gave me a voice that I needed one night and I brazenly stole without even thinking about it. And for that I love her.

Rest in peace, Ms. Dixie. You were a beauty queen and a beauty. You had a name we hardly ever hear any more but it suited you with that hard "D", that two quick slashes of an "X".
And if I ever need to speak a hard truth again (and you know I will and so will you), I might straighten my spine, raise my chin, cross one fine leg over another and find that once again your voice will be the one to come out of me, southern accent and all. Like I said, I never met you and I sure don't know you and for all I know, you may have voted for George Bush twice. But I do know that as an actress, you gave such voice to your character that it lives on in me.
And probably plenty of other women, too.

We all die but not all of us are going to leave our voices behind for others to use when they need them. You did. And I thank-you for that.

And I'll probably thank-you when I'm old and crazy and my kids don't put me away in the attic but set me proudly on the front porch where crazy old Southern women belong. I'm sorry you didn't live long enough to enjoy that particular pleasure. But I would not be surprised if, when I am sitting on the porch, probably tied to a rocking chair so I don't get up and wander away, that I'll rant and rave and yell at children and dogs as they pass by my house and the voice coming out of me will sound a lot like yours would have if you had lived long enough to do that very same thing.

God, I hope so.

Gives me something to look forward to.

Thank-you, Ms. Dixie. Now go on, I'm sure you have a few things to say wherever it is you are.

Say it. Lift your chin and say it. Wish I could hear what it is you're saying. It would be interesting, to say the least. And I sure would like to hear that voice one more time.

Well. There is YouTube.



Mmmmm.
Thanks for the memories. Thanks for the voice.

I promise I'll only use it when I need it. And I'll always give you credit.

16 comments:

  1. I seem to recall you channeling Julia Sugarbaker when you so eloquently took the old white guy at the dump to task. We all need to get bumperstickers that say - WWJuliaD.

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  2. I've always loved her character, and can't help thinking she was hardly acting, that she WAS her. And that each time a real true human being leaves us, a little less light shines, left with lesser personalities. It really is up to us!

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  3. Jucie- I had forgotten that! Thank-you. It's true. I did.

    Laura Lee- No matter what, when she was acting Julia, she WAS Julia. For me.
    Yes. It is sort of up to us.
    Dammit.

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  4. I met my biological father when I was 42 - up until then he hadn't even known I existed. It's a long wonderful story, but suffice it to say that in my eyes he's the greatest man who ever lived- besides my husband.

    Hearing of her death brought back a strong memory of the first day I met my dad. We'd been talking non-stop and after a few hours he said that I was a younger version of 'Dixie Carter made over.' My heart sank a little because I wanted to make a good impression - not be seen as the type to go on angry, pathological tirades for no apparent reason other than to bring some drama. So I mumbled something about 'yeah, she's really great on Designing Women.' He said he'd never even heard of the show, but had met Dixie a few times and that in real life we not only looked a lot alike, we carried ourselves the same way and spoke with the same quiet authority. Dayum! How could you ever forget something like that in your whole life?

    Now dad is gone. Dixie's gone. Studs Terkel is gone..and about ten of my nearest and dearest have gone in the last year alone. RIP y'all, and thanks for what you brought to the table. *sigh* Head up, wipe that tear, and go enjoy this most glorious day.

    p/s Other than dad and husband, the biggest hero of my life is Mark Twain...who Dixie's husband Hal Holbrook has done a brilliant job of bringing to the stage.

    Oh, and thanks for this Youtube clip, it's CLASSIC!

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  5. Those speeches were written by Linda Bloodworth-Thompson for Julia Sugarbaker, and Dixie Carter delivered them flawlessly. I read in interviews that Linda B-T made deals with Dixie for her to make some of the tirades that she was politically in disagreement with. I loved that show and the characters in it and often wished I could channel Julia Sugarbaker. What a role model! And who can forget "Ray Don"! Wonderful!!

    I loved that episode when Gerald McRaney played the writer who described each of the women. It was poetry.

    I'm so sad she's gone. My sympathies and condolences go to Hal Holbrook who still delivers masterful performances and to her daughters.

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  6. Oops, that was Joy! I was signed on to grandson Brendan's account so he could send an email to his parents while he's here for the weekend!

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  7. oh, I loved this show. How sad, you know you're old when you think someone dies young at 70.


    This was a powerful post, Ms. Moon. I'm quite certain your voice is perfect. Cooing,calling out, chastising.

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  8. Laynie- Wow! Now that's a story! And to be told you are like Dixie Carter- a fine compliment in my book. Thanks for sharing it.

    Joy- I was confused there but now I get who you are. Good comment!

    Deb- Yeah. I know. Seventy seems younger all the time.

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  9. One of the best clips from Designing Women. I was sad to read about Ms. Carter's death this morning, my Mammaw is a lot like Julia Sugarbaker.

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  10. Oh, I hadn't heard. What a beautiful woman and great character.

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  11. What a lovely tribute, Ms. Moon. She was indeed a beautiful woman.

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  12. I love Julia Sugarbaker so much! I'd never thought of it until this morning - that growing up in Alaska with NO southerners around, she and Flannery O'Connor were pretty much all I knew about southerners. And doggone it, Julia Sugarbaker just ROCKS.

    PS - thanks for your support. Now back to packing! :)

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  13. She was a great lady and impossible to keep your eyes/ears off of. I loved Designing Women!

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  14. Ginger- Awesomeness in a grandma is a very good thing.

    Stephanie- I know. It's sad.

    Angie M- Wasn't she gorgeous?

    NOLA- Well, between Julia and Flannery, you had a fine education in southerness, I would say.

    Maggie May- That show was way wonderful. Made you laugh, cry, and think.

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  15. I grew up around steel magnolias so I know the character you describe. I didn't watch the show. I lived the show I think.

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  16. Lovely tribute, Mary. She was a dear lady. I had not heard the sad news.

    I have a crush on Hal Holbrook, who went to school here in Ohio.

    If the kids wind up sticking you on the porch, which I doubt, I will sit with you and feed you cake.

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