ABOUT

June 23, 2020

The Couth Hillbilly The Couth Hillbilly? Yep. First, it’s more likely you’ll remember that moniker than Crawford Harris. There’s also a couple of other reasons for it.

Something happened more than 60 years ago. For some strange reason, the army wanted me. Generally, it’s nice to be wanted. That time not so much. Anyway, they sent me to Ft. Jackson in South Carolina.

A training company back then was composed of 225 pieces of cannon fodder. Being in South Carolina one would expect most or all of the trainees to be from the South. The army doesn’t always work as sane people would expect. There were 5 of us from the South but the remainder were bused in from New York, New Jersey and Puerto Rico.

Naturally, those superior beings from the colder climes felt compelled to put us in our place. As could be expected from Yankees, they were very creative. They had the brilliant idea of calling us hillbillies. That rankled a bit. I realized that, if you can tell a better joke on yourself than they can come up with, it shuts them up.

Ah jest declared I neva woulda jined the army if’n I’da knowed I’d haft tuh wear shoes.

That was that. The name-calling ceased and we began to be treated almost as equals.

Over the years I held many jobs. Some were very responsible; others not so much. I traveled the world for some of those jobs. I became quite the cosmopolitan fellow.

Also, I was what could only be called a tenured student. After too many years wasted in the Grove of Academe, I ended up in graduate school studying international relations and international economics. It was the premier school in the field, limited to 300 students, and I was the only person from the South.

I have acquired, lost and reacquired a southern drawl several times. Here I was coming from Tennessee. I brought the drawl with me.

One day, 5 or 6 of us were standing around in the lobby for a couple of hours, solving all of the world’s problems. One of the guys, who had done his undergraduate studies at the University of Michigan, said, “Crawford, you know, you talk slow but you’re really not all that dumb.”

It was meant as a compliment but he had bought into the stereotype – slow talking equals slow-witted. Everyone realized his little faux pas and the silence was total. It seemed to last for minutes, though in reality it was perhaps 10 seconds. When he realized what he had said, we could almost see him physically shrink before our eyes. Sincere apology accepted.

Couth means sophisticated. Hillbilly not so much. The combination of opposites is an oxymoron. As I suggested above, this combination should be more memorable than my given name. I really hope you remember and find your way back for an occasional visit. The podcast I’m developing will be under the same name, as will a series of books.

I hate to see all these years of education and experience be lost. I want to pass it on before I pass on.

Crawford Harris

 

Comments on this entry are closed.