Hurricanes, tornado sirens, fire alarms. All things a true southerner can sleep through. But I tell you what, the second that power goes out and my fan turns off, I’m up. Food cookin’? I’m up. A good Sunday morning? I’m comfortably sleepin’ in, but I’m up.
Southern white noise is a thing of beauty. At least one box fan older than your mom, grandma’s clock ticking softly in the background, tree frogs croaking outside and occasionally a distant train. It’s like a sweet gentle lullaby. None of that crunchy tingly ASMR stuff.
Nobody in my family can sleep without a fan. We take them everywhere we travel, looking like the Beverly Hillbillies driving down the road packed out with fans and suitcases and potentially a dog crate. My dad loves his dog, and they snore right along together. Granted, my dad will sleep through anything, but I tell you what, if the power goes out, he knows instantly. Even the dog gets up.
It’s like a sixth sense. Even the deadest of southern sleepers will rise when our white noise “turns off.” A disturbance in our force, if you will.
I can recall a story my mom has told many times before, in which she was baking something that, well, burnt to a crisp. It set off the fire alarm directly above my dad, who was napping. She ran outside with the smoldering baked good, came back in, and finally got the fire alarm to turn off. Of course, in this span of time, the alarm company had also called.
The fire alarm goin’ off, doors slammin’, phone ringin’, and not a twitch from my father. I wish I could sleep that well.
I, however, have slept through multiple fire alarms. I’ve slept through raging storms, but that constant fan sound is crucial to me being able to fall asleep and stay asleep.
I’m not even sure my fan effectively blows air anymore; it’s just a noise maker. As a matter of fact, I actually have a fan and an air purifier running at the same time. Bonus points if I’m at home and can hear my brother’s fan too.
One thing, besides a power outage, that’ll wake me up? Food. I swear the kitchen vent dumps straight into my room, and ain’t nothing better smellin’ than some good home cookin’.
I smell that draft and start floatin’ like a cartoon character to the kitchen just to see what’s brewing in there.
My Momma cooks some of the best food. Even the infamous crockpot meals are good when she makes them. Most people should be scared when they see that crockpot come out, but whoo, I get excited. She starts havin’ to swat me away because it smells so dang good.
Especially when it involves rice. I’m always so tempted to open the pot to stir it, but nope -- you better not touch that pot else you want to get smacked (lovingly).
The worst part of college is not having home cooked meals. Chef Boyardee may be warm and hearty, but it don’t have that heart, y’know? I never miss a Momma meal when I visit home, eatin’ like a starved linebacker.
The best way to wake up in the south? Sundays in the fall. The sun is up just early enough for a gentle wakin’, and the skies are clear. There’s enough chill in the air to have the doors and windows open. A pot of chili is on the stove already -- gotta give it time to simmer and set. Birds chirping, TV on, blasting the NFL or CBS NFL theme songs. Halloween candy for breakfast -- don’t tell mom. You can’t eat all the candy before we even pass it out!
However, nothing will wake me up faster than that fan turning off, and that’s my southern truth.
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