Sunday, 13 July 2003On Sunday morning, before I left for North Carolina, my sister took me to Cendrillon, a Filipino restaurant in SoHo. As befits the neighborhood pedigree, Cendrillon had a well composed look of tall ceilings, exposed brick and understated folk art. "Surprisingly nice," was my comment to my sister, as we waited for seats
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i am giving you your table back. i might need my dresser.
beeop
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are you shure i can give away the table?
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I can hardly wait for the Deep South part, but I wonder whether it will be like reading about place to which I've never been. The last time I opened my eyes in 'Bama, I was an adolescent trying to dump my drawl.
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Technically, the line is Maryland's border with Pennsylvania and Delaware, and if there are any signs, that's where they would be.
The psychological line shifts according to one's scholarship. I think most people understand it to be an figure of speech, a convenient way to imagine the divide between the slave-holding and free states, or between the Yanks and the Rebs, but Maryland, Missouri, Delaware, New Jersey, and West Virginia resist the binary categorizations and keep the division from being a very neat one.
It's just a state of mind, I think. I felt acutely that I was in a southern place when I lived in DC, while Baltimore felt very northern to me--all a result of what happened after the war, I'm sure.
Welcome back!
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Um, in English, that would be martial law.
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