Southern Belle

By Beverly Sermons

Maxine had been called a lot of things in her lifetime, but never a Southern Belle! The title simply did not fit with her lifestyle or the history of her people in America. As she sat in a hotel bar in Hong Kong, China surrounded by colleagues from around the world, Maxine was surprised to hear herself described in such a way. She didnt know whether to be insulted that the history of her people was so poorly known that a black woman from the south was referred to as a Belle, or to be amused. She chose to be amused. Maxine sipped her Chardonnay. The wine relaxed her frontal lobe and she laughed out loud. She couldnt help thinking, I am my mothers daughter and she aint no Southern Belle.

Back in the states, Maxine settled into the routine of work, family and friends with a new perspective. The China experience had been wonderfully positive and enlightening in ways that gave fresh eyes, ears and meaning to her life.

"Southern Belle" details Maxine's quest for meaning in the concept of a 21st Century black southern belle. What she learned would strengthen her faith and bring her closer to the women whose lives had shaped her past, and helped to define who she was today.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jun 8, 2009
• ISBN: 9781438980454

Beverly Sermons

Dr. Beverly Sermons is a daughter, sister, wife, mother, friend, confidante, coworker and all-time southern girl! She is also an Education Administrator, Consultant and Life-long Advocate for Youth. Bevs voice spans years of community activism in expression of her grass-roots commitment to the empowerment of children in her local community, and along her path. She is fortunate to have been provided a path with breadth and depth enough to impact the lives of many!

Book preview

© 2009 Beverly Sermons. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 6/3/2009

ISBN: 978-1-4389-8045-4 (ebk)

ISBN: 978-1-4389-8043-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4389-8044-7 (hc)

Printed in the United States of America

Bloomington, Indiana

Author’s Note

This is a work of fiction. All events and characters in this story are solely the product of the author’s imagination; any similarities between any characters and situations presented in this book to any individuals living or dead or actual places and situations are purely coincidental.

Contents

Acknowledgements

Chapter1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

If you do not define who you are, you will most likely be defined by what other people call you.

B. Sermons

For my grandmother, Mary

My best friend, Chrys

And my son, Alex…

Acknowledgements

I express sincere gratitude to my family, and to all of the people who love me and pray for me every day.

God bless you!

Chapter1

I accepted a handkerchief from the gardener with the white beard and beady eyes. I formed the prayer hands and bowed slightly to express my thanks as I backed away from the stranger and made my way to a large tree, in search of shade. The little strip of cotton cloth in my hand was dingy and damp, and I suspected it wasn’t exactly clean.

The stranger watched me from a patch of large banana plants as he pulled weeds. I dabbed at my forehead, careful not to disturb my makeup. I used the stranger’s dingy cloth to stop the sweat that dripped into the corners of my eyes, making them sting. Little rivulets of moisture ran down the back of my knees to flow down my calves and collect in the soles of my black Evan Picone pumps. I glanced at my watch. It was two hours still until my presentation and I was experiencing a major meltdown. Thank God I’d had the sense to leave off the stockings this morning.

The weather in Hong Kong was sweltering hot. Daily rain and one-hundred degree temperatures made being outside almost unbearable, at least for me and I suspect for the other Americans visiting at the University of Hong Kong. We were all here to attend the International Conference on Children and Youth, and outside of the heat—which was unbearable—I was having a really good time. I’d met people from countries all around the world…India, Africa, Australia, Canada, Europe, Brazil, and other parts of South America and Asia. I didn’t know what the weather was like in other parts of the world, but for me this was worse than the oppressive summer heat and humidity of the southeastern United States during the dog days of August.

I paused a moment to thank God again for salvation. If hell was any hotter than this, it surely was not a place that I wished to go. I made a vow to strengthen my inner-man—or woman. Somehow in my church all genders were male. [My brother had explained the neutrality of it all to me during one of our many theological discussions.] Anyhow, I figured a closer walk with God would be good insurance against spending eternity in any place hotter than the weather in Hong Kong today.

I grabbed a cup of iceless water from the refreshment table set up in the corridor outside of the main auditorium. I’d not had a glass of water with ice since I left Chicago. Maybe ice was a priced commodity here in China. I shook my head to decline the cup of hot tea offered by the pretty, slant-eyed Chinese girl. She smiled and continued pouring cups of the hot beverage to offer to colleagues that mingled around the table. I shook my head in wonder at hot tea in the middle of the day, and in the middle of a tropical heat wave. I smiled back at her and headed inside.

The humidity from the afternoon rain and heat followed me inside as I opened the door to the Meng Wah Complex. I went in search of the room that had been assigned for my presentation, inhaling deeply of the cool, conditioned air. Locating the room, I opened the door, dropped my briefcase in a corner and went out again in search of the ladies room.

Down the hall, inside the ladies’ room I splashed water on my face and checked to make sure my make-up had not been completely undone in the sauna outside. Satisfied, I opened the doors to three stalls containing squat toilets, before finding one with a commode of sufficient height and acceptable to my American standards. I’d read about the toilets in the floor where men, [and women too, I guess], stood up to handle their business. To me that sounded too much like great-grandma squatting in the middle of the corn rows on daddy’s farm when I was a little girl. Ooh No. I did not strain my brain to earn a terminal degree and fly eighteen hours around the world to squat and pee…or handle any other toiletry business for that matter.

Back in the room assigned for our presentation, I took out the DVD that we had recorded as part of a research study. The process had been tedious, but I felt good that we had a quality product with some excellent data to share with other educators. I inserted the DVD into the drive on the computer and placed my Cruz into the jump drive. I opened the PowerPoint presentation, satisfied with the visual image reflected on the large screen at the front of the room. I closed my eyes and stood under the flow of an air condition vent, relaxing a moment before people started to file into the room for our presentation.

Hey Maxine. Julie walked up behind me and tapped me on the shoulder. I turned towards her and smiled. Are you nervous about our presentation? she asked. I smiled and shook my head, no. I’m a little bit nervous. Don’t be, I said. We’re all just people and at this stage of the game, most of us are of equal intelligence and somewhat respectful of each others’ talents and differences. Besides, we only have one hour and it will go quickly. It’ll be over before you know it!

Surely enough, the hour passed quickly and we barely had time to entertain questions from the audience before they were scrambling to leave and make the next concurrent session. Several professionals from Hong Kong University remained afterwards to ask a few questions and request a copy of the DVD. We exchanged business cards and I promised to contact them when I returned to my office at the University Assessment Center. I needed to find a reproduction company to burn fifty copies of the video for distribution to our service institutions and others who might be interested in our research results. I also needed to get busy writing an article for submission to peer review journals.

Downstairs in the faculty lounge, Julie and I waited for the bus that would transport us from the university back to the Island Pacific hotel. I felt no urge to be first on the bus and convinced Julie that we should wait right there in the air conditioned lounge until one minute before the bus was scheduled to arrive. Julie was easy to convince. She had been sweating and complaining more than me for the past four days. I think the sweating part affected her in ways that made no difference to me. She spoke repeatedly about how unbecoming it was for a southern lady to sweat like a pig. I was sure she meant a white southern lady, ‘because I’m from the south and none of that southern lady stuff made any difference to me.

Julie came back to the table with two ice teas from the cafeteria next door. Thank you. I accepted the cold drink she offered, grateful that it contained ice. Those ladies asked me where I was from and I told them South Carolina. They told me that I sounded like an American Southerner. They said that you don’t sound like me. I hate the way I sound. Julie sat down with me to wait for the bus.

Chapter 2 

Back at the hotel, I showered and changed clothes. This time I left off the suit and opted for a simple, sleeveless summer sheath. It was a beautiful shade of blue that matched my skin well, and highlighted my mocha pecan tan. Oh yes, I’d explained to Julie earlier that the sisters do tan. No, we don’t go looking for the sun, but I guarantee you that the sun finds us if we are anywhere near its rays.

The first day in Hong Kong, we’d spent the afternoon exploring the local neighborhood shops. Julie had seemed surprised at my tan lines. She was still as pale as the underbelly of a porpoise. She explained that her milky white southern skin just didn’t know how to accept a tan. Too bad, I thought as I smiled at my reflection in the mirror.

Julie was a very attractive woman, tan or no tan. But no amount of talking could convince her that she really still had it…whatever she wanted it to be. I spent half my time with her just running interference for Julie against Julie. A final glance in the mirror confirmed that the sleeveless sheath showed off my big arms. Several of the children in the homes we’d visited yesterday had no arms and no legs. I thanked God for my arms and hurried from my room to catch the elevator to the lobby. As hot as it was outside, I was sure that neither God nor anyone else would care about the shape of my arms.

I stepped into the elevator and squeezed past two good-looking African men, an Indian woman and two Chinese couples who were all dressed up for the evening. The girls wore form-fitting dresses in bright orange with hues of red and blue. The colors and the cloth were beautiful. I couldn’t help thinking that those dresses must be a size zero. And, it sure wasn’t because they didn’t eat. I’d observed a few breakfast plates piled high with enough food to feed a farm hand. Maybe they had an entirely different genetic makeup that kept the weight at bay, or perhaps they simply smiled it off. Everybody really was nice, at least those I’d encountered, which was mostly at the university, in the hotel or