I am the product of a mixed-marriage. My mother is a southern belle and my father is a damn Yankee. Dad drinks Michelob out of a bottle, and my mother sips sweet tea from a mason jar. She says, “God bless you,” and he says, “Gawd dammit!”
Unfortunately for them, their romance didn’t take the leisurely path of antebellum courting. Instead, it took the northern carpetbagger route. The dissolution of their union was like Lee surrendering to Grant at Appomattox, and it was just as brutal.
Spoils of war did yield me though, so the marriage wasn’t all bad.