"As American as baseball, Mom's apple pie and Chevrolet."

You've heard that.

Americans are proud of our traditions, rightly so. Nobody makes better apple pies than American mamas. Nobody on the planet builds better automobiles than Chevrolet. And, except for football, hockey, basketball, tennis, soccer, golf and synchronized swimming, baseball is the most exciting sport in America.

Down here in the Blessed South we claim ownership of certain things that, while they may occasionally stray north of the Mason Dixon line, they remain uniquely Southern.

Things the we, Southerners everywhere, are fiercely proud of.

Like magnolia trees that flourish in the South like nowhere else.

Grits. You can order them other places in America but be sure to catch the waitress before she desecrates them with honey or sugar.

NASCAR. Still predominately a Southern pastime in spite of official attempts to distance themselves from their bread and butter fan base.

And then there's my favorite of all traditions rooted in our part of the world.

The honky tonk.

Of course, like all good things, the influence of honky tonks has spread to other parts of the world. I once heard George Strait music being played at an establishment in Glasgow, Scotland. The twang sounded just as sweet "over there" as it does in Dixie.

I was fortunate enough to spend time in some of the best honky tonks in America.

The Grizzly Rose in Denver. Billy Bob's in Fort Worth.

Gilley's, before it closed years ago, in Pasadena, Texas. These days some of the better places like to call themselves "dance halls" or "music venues."

Call them what you will, neon beer signs covering every wall ascertain them as honky tonks.

Every incursion into a honky tonk convinces me further that Southern Americans know how to have fun better than other Earthlings.

Honky tonks are all about good friends, good times and great music.

Last week I went to a local place where a brand new record was being released. Of course it was called a CD release party but I still prefer to call them records.

The Hush Puppies Band was playing.

If you haven't heard of them yet, you will. They already have a maniacally loyal following but the new record should sky rocket.

I hadn't been in a honky tonk for a while but it all came back to me right quick.

The lead singer is a friend and his wife, ever the gracious hostess, French kissed me just for showing up. Don't be alarmed, you have to know her to understand.

The music was loud and proud, rough and rowdy, just like I expected.

The dancing was lively. I hid and watched from a safe vantage.

I spotted the redhead who I've christened the best looking woman in the county. I'm sure her husband's aware of my infatuation. I'm even more certain that he knows he has no reason to be concerned. I'm harmless. Across the hardwood was my nephew and his bride, Fireball. The boy creates his own dance steps every time his feet find a new floor. Fireball just shrugs and keeps on dancing.

Out in the middle was a group of young women from my hometown who were having a ladies evening out. On this night their husbands got to stay home and baby sit. The gals were having a

- See Lively, page9