Jill just came right out and said it. Her Disney-esque eyes were wide with sincerity, as she made a grand gesture of kindness. But her lovely offer was followed up with, “I’m not just being Southern … I really mean it.” I blinked and took in the full value of what she had just said, then doubled over laughing.

Since when did “speaking Southern” equate with empty, meaningless promises? Our kind words have always been sincere, and thoughtful offers were meant as the gospel truth. Handshakes sold businesses, and a promise was something kept.

But now I wonder, does the rest of the world really doubt a Southerner’s word and consider it to be nothing but fluff and emptiness? Just because we drop the ending from our words, doesn’t mean we drop the intent.

Our expressions may have an extra dose of “flowerdyness,” but our word is good as gold. If we tell you your caramel cake is “as light as the angels,” we mean it. If you over-cooked the icing, we’ll just say it’s “mighty good (effort)” No offense, but truthfulness nonetheless.

“Bless her heart” used to mean just that, “Dear God in heaven above, please look down on this poor soul and bless her. Bless her to the core and bless her heart that beats its true love for you. Bless…her…cotton-pickin’…heart.”

But now, someone in the world of “people we don’t know who change the rules” has decided that “bless her heart” means “she’s a real witch.” I suspect these are also the asinine people who decided everyone should wear white shoes in October and pre-teen girl’s Halloween costumes should be sexy. That’s just crazier than a pet coon.

When I ask for blessings on someone’s heart, it’s the real deal. If I want to say she’s a witch, well, there’s a way of saying that, too. Something along the lines of, “She’s meaner than a hot skillet full of rattlesnakes,” which is followed by an all-sincere, “bless her heart” because people with a mean streak are in dire and immediate need of having their hearts truly blessed.

Those interacting with Southerners have to learn to read, or listen, between the lines. We mean what we say, and say what we mean, but throw in extra words — and syllables, to express ourselves and often soften the blow of bad news.

When I was a newlywed, I was startled and somewhat offended when my cranky Yankee husband would give me sharp answers like, “yes” or “no.” “Does this dress look okay?” was never answered with, “Oh sweetie pie, that dress looks good enough on you to make a grown man cry. Mmm-hmm — mighty fine, indeed!” Instead, I got a, “Sure.” No extra words, just a cut-to-the-chase response. And because he was so abrupt and brief, I was insulted and didn’t believe a word he said.

The notion that two groups of people don’t believe each other because of how many or how few words they use in conversations, may explain why our Congressional delegates are often at odds. Perhaps they’re all trying to say the same thing, but it just comes out differently, depending on which part of the country they represent. Flowerdy vs. flippant. Beauty vs. brusque. Vibrant vs. vague.

It’s a language barrier we may never overcome. And that’s a problem bigger than your Aunt Annie’s fanny after a long car ride.

Leslie Anne Harrison also writes the blog, Fairhope Supply Co. at www.fairhopesupply.com. You can reach her at la@fairhopesupply.com.