Looking for Love in Historic Places, aka "The Courting Colonel"

My last article seems to have hit a soft spot with a few readers.

My phone rang several times with people wanting to know exactly what I was thinking. I just answered the same way I did when I was a kid in trouble. “I wasn’t thinking.”

Oddly enough, I haven’t received any calls from troop leaders wanting retractions pertaining to cookie sales. The calls I got were from a band of female friends I affectionately refer to as my “other mothers.” Every young man should be as lucky as I am to have a group such as the other mothers in my life.

Essentially, the other mothers are another set of eyes and ears for my real mother. These other mothers fill in for Mama should she be absent and report back to her regularly. In polite company, they remind me to refrain from spitting or scratching myself and oftentimes chastise me should I forget one or more of my moral obligations. They keep my feet to the fire and my course on the straight and narrow.

When the other mothers read my line, “maybe I am in love,” they became enraged. “Why in the world would you say ‘maybe?’ You either are or you aren’t,” I heard more than once. But, always motherly, they would end with, “Other than that, it was a good article!”

I’ve always heard a real man will admit when he is in the wrong. So here it goes- I may have been in the wrong when I wrote my last column about the exceedingly addictive Girl Scout cookies. Hmm, crow doesn’t taste so bad after all.

Now, for me to clear this matter up once and for all, I have a few things to say. For one, I am one-hundred percent, completely in love with the most wonderful girl in the world, not maybe. Secondly, yes, I love her more than any Girl Scout cookie. That includes tagalongs and samoas.

I met the girl that stole my heart at the Athenaeum Rectory ten months ago during their annual Ladies Weekend. During this weekend, the Athenaeum staff teaches ladies etiquette, penmanship, and dances of the antebellum world. Through some strange set of events, I decided to go help with dance practice. But, I would be no help at all that night.

All I could do was stare at the beautiful brunette Southern belle in the blue, billowing ball gown. My heart raced as she promenaded towards me. Then, all of a sudden, I was holding her hand. I smiled and tried to speak. I’m still not certain if any words actually came out, but she smiled back before promenading on to the next dance partner.

I stood there completely smitten. I’m pretty sure I ignored every other partner I danced with that night because I was staring across the room at the girl who smiled at me. All the while, I cursed every other man that danced with her. If she noticed my stares, she never let it show.

Finally, dance practice was over. I was on my way to make a bold move- introduce myself to the pretty girl- when someone grabbed my arm and talked for what felt like an eternity. I stood there, a helpless captive, as I watched the girl of my dreams walk out the door. As soon as I broke away from the conversation, I rushed to the parking lot to see if my Cinderella was nearby. Of course, she was long gone, not even a glass slipper left behind.

I didn’t even know her name. However, being on the board of the Athenaeum, I was able to make a few phone calls and, before long, I had her name. And once I had that name, I hunted her down so fast I put prized bloodhounds to shame.

I’m still surprised to this day that she, this dream girl, agreed to the first date. I am even more surprised she agreed to the second one. Now, I can’t imagine my life without her.

The funny thing is, she thinks she is the lucky one.



Named a Tennessee colonel by Gov. Phil Bredesen, Adam Southern is resident of Culleoka and can be followed at http://colonelsouthern.blogspot.com.

Cookie Junkie: Girl Scouts have us hooked!

My hands are shaking as I try to type.

I’m not nervous. I am not, well, maybe I am in love. But, that’s not the cause of my shakes. My shaking, trembling hands are cause by nothing more than pure sugar overload.

I made it through Thanksgiving and Christmas without gorging myself full of homemade candies, cakes, and pies. Valentine’s Day came and went without me eating a single piece of chocolate. Then, something came along that my willpower had no power over at all …

Girl Scout Cookies.

Every year I place an order, and every year I make the same mistake. I open that initial box, tear open the plastic wrap, and pick the most unsuspecting cookie to be my first victim. It’s like the old potato chip adage, “I betcha can’t eat just one!” Cookie No. 1 is just the first in what is sure to be a long, chocolaty reign of terror.

Before I know it, the first box is empty. I stumble around the house, my eyes glazed over like doughnuts, and search for another box. At the peak of my sugar high, I find my stash of hidden cookies only to be confronted by another problem. Which cookie should I choose?

Tagalongs are good. Samoas are even better. How about a little bit of both? The latter seems like the best choice, and I dig in. Hours later, I awake on the floor, crumbs scattered all around.

This, of course, is an exaggeration. I haven’t passed out lately on any cookie-eating binges, although I have eaten my fair share of them this year. After my third box, I begin to wonder, “Are these cookies really as good as I think they are?” I came to the conclusion they are not.

It’s all a hoax. The reason they seem so good and why we have to buy about 20 boxes just to “stock up” is that they only come around once a year. If we were able to buy Girl Scout cookies all year long, we would tire of them very quickly.

Don’t get me wrong, the cookies are great, but they are easy to burn out on. It’s just like when I stayed with my grandmamma during the summer years ago. Every day, I had a corndog for lunch. Not, because that’s all there was, but because that’s what I asked for. By the end of that summer, just the thought of another corndog was more than I could handle. Twenty years later, I am just now able to eat corndogs again.

Luckily for me, Girl Scout cookies never last at my house longer than a couple of weeks, much less a full season. I never get a chance to get that old burned out feeling. Instead, I’m always left wanting more which is the genius of the Girl Scouts — quit selling while they are hot and leave everybody wanting more.

Regardless, the cookies generate revenue that will be put to great use by the Girl Scouts of the U.S.A. I keep telling myself that’s the reason I keep eating cookies until I founder — it’s going to a good cause. That must also be the reason I have several boxes in my stash for a “rainy day.”

Faces are on the boxes, making the personification of the box staring at me not completely untrue, and if I listen close enough, I can almost hear the box calling my name. I better cut this article short and go see what it wants. I, for one, want to figure out what a deep-fried Tagalong tastes like!

Named a Tennessee colonel by Gov. Phil Bredesen, Adam Southern is resident of Culleoka and can be followed at http://colonelsouthern.blogspot.com.