Apparently, I do, indeed, have a southern accent. I was not born in the South. I was a Navy brat and picked up the accent from the descendants of the Johnny Rebs I hung out with as a child. I found this explanation on line:
"It's a common belief that accents are passed down from parents, but that’s not typically the case. Instead, kids pick up accents from the people they interact with daily—usually their peers, teachers, and neighbors. While parents play a huge role in language development, accents are more about social adaptation than family influence. In fact, many people may not even realize how much they adapt to fit into their social groups, subconsciously choosing speech patterns that help them feel connected."
Well, a blonde with a southern accent might as well be carrying a sign saying, "I'm dumb." I've been called a corn pone and laughed at because of my accent. That wouldn't be so bad if I actually was from the South. But not to be a Southerner and to catch their grief... No fair! Gee whiz.
Apparently the second, I am what they call a Third Culture kid, and one of that particular subset the military brat, with no particular place to call home. So I can equally be a southern California surfer girl, a Montana cowgirl or a Southern Belle gobbling goobers and grits -- or none of the above. Whatever, man. But southern gal is okay. I'm fine with that. Boy, howdy, I tell you what...wait -- is that southern or Texan?
