"We happy few, we band of brothers. For he to-day that sheds his blood with me, shall be my brother...."
Shakespeare, Henry the V, Act IV, 1415
Women of the South are called "Steel Magnolias," meaning we can embrace the very beauty seen in nature in our femininity, our manners, and our sense of decorum, and harness it within ourselves, but still be every bit the force that Mother Nature expects us to be: fierce, strong, resilient and, depending on our brand of mascara, waterproof.
There really isn't a term designated, as far as I know, for Southern men. When we think of women being Steel Magnolias, it almost implies our male counterparts can only excel at all things physical: a quarterback sack, chopping wood, making a grilled cheese sandwich, or taking out ten extra tall kitchen Hefties to the curb in one trip....all with one hand.
It's like if we give them an emotional task like dealing with a crying, hysterical female, they might as well be reduced to something akin to a flour sifted roux- a thin, light and simple staple that, in a matter of minutes, is required to painstakingly manipulate itself into a thick substance that will transform the bland into earth-shattering greatness. We all know the odds of that working out. Only, I don't know if that assumption is entirely fair.
Case in point: Larry Munson.
The Minnesota- born sports broadcaster who was the radio announcer, or more accurately the voice behind the Georgia Bulldogs for 43 years, passed away Sunday, November 20 at the age of 89 from complications from pneumonia. It was a sad day, as anyone who grew up listening to him on game day will tell you.Here was a man who was fanatical about a football team as most people are about their religion. He was biased, but not a fault. It was his undying loyalty for the team that drew him to his fans, and in turn, it was his enthusiasm that lifted them up in good times and the bad. His passion for the Dawgs was infectious and he wasn't scared to lay it out there for everyone to see.
Take, for instance, November 8, 1980 in Jacksonville, FL."Buck back, third down to the 25! To the 30! Lindsay Scott! 35, 40! Lindsay Scott, 45, 50! 45,40! Run Lindsay! 25! 20! 15! 10! 5! Lindsay Scott!! Lindsay Scott! I can't believe it. I broke me chair. A metal steel chair with a five inch cushion. I broke it. The booth fell apart. The stadium,well, the stadium fell down. Now, they have to renovate the thing. They'll have to rebuild it now. This is incredible....Man some property will be destroyed tonight! Dawgs on top. We were gone. I gave up, you did, too. We were out of it and gone. Miracle!
Lindsay: 93 yard touchdown. Score: Georgia 26-Florida 21.
Even though Munson was born in a state that you very well might lose your nose, a few fingers, and a key that snaps off in your car door on a blistery winter day, he really did embody what it means to be a Southern man. He was strong and unconventional. He called things as he saw them, even if the most die-hard of fans...or coaches...didn't want to hear it. He could get caught up in a whirlwind of an emotional moment and put into words a sentiment that as a Bulldog Nation we were all feeling but could never express as eloquently and sincerely as he could on a split seconds notice.
Take for instance, November 13, 1982.
"It's fourth down...ball on the 21 and they have got to get to the 4 for the first down. I know I'm asking a lot of you guys...but hunker it down, one more time! The Dawgs broke it up...23,22, and 21...clock running, running. Oh look at the sugar falling out of the sky. Look at the sugar falling out of the sky!"
Score: Georgia 19-Auburn 14, guaranteeing the Dawgs a trip to the Sugar Bowl.
People like to say men are incapable of the heavy stuff, the stuff of the heart that doesn't require actually lifting, like a sofa or a 60 pound bar bell loaded with 150 pounds of extra weight. Naw, not at all.
For me, these past few months, actually many years, have proven that assumption false.
See, like Larry and his sideline man "Loren, whatta you got?" I have seen camaraderie...men in the trenches...a band of brothers that when things get tough, they not only show up, but they say the right things. They rally around and admit, like Larry, things don't look so good right now, but I am here in the huddle with you, so let's just hunker down, get on through it.
My husband grew up with a "band of brothers" on the island. Lane Moore, Bowen Freeman, Bird Lynch, Patrick Tolleson, Jason Futch, Trey Brunson, Buddy McNeese, Brookes Haistens, Robert Malone, Paul Thompson, Doug Trowell,Kip Banker, John FitzGerald, just to name a few.
They have remained close and still get together a few times a year for weddings, baby showers, Georgia/Florida game and reunions. Now, they gather round for that real life grown up stuff we all want to avoid but inevitably have to face head on, one day. For this particular band of brothers, it's been quite an emotional past couple of years. Instead of baptisms and birthday parties, they have the unfortunate task of burying their mothers and fathers and taking on burdens they always knew would come but never realized how soon. But still, they show up.
Since Shakespeare wrote about the "warrior" band of brothers almost six hundred years ago, the meaning has become much more universal. It is about a group of men, yes, steely in exterior and conviction, but devoted and loyal to the friendships they have formed over a lifetime and unashamed to admit how much they mean to one another.
I have seen these men cancel family trips, postpone important business meetings, weep at the graves of their friends families, and simply "show up" when they needed each other the most with a beer in hand and a funny story to tell.
Case in point: November 18, 2011. Lane's mom,Sandra Shell Moore's graveside service.
As Lane and his wife, Alicia were leaving the cemetery after the service, they paused in their car one last time to look at the casket before it would be lowered into the earth.
Lane noticed the flowers all around the tent and realized the condolence cards were still attached to them. He started to worry about the notes on the flowers that people had taken the time to write about his mom and was concerned about how he would be able to thank them properly. He had never done anything like this before. He called his friend Bowen who was still at the service and, unfortunately, had been through similar circumstances when his Mom, Mari, passed away a year and a half ago.
"Don't worry," Bowen told Lane. " I'll make sure it's take care of."
It's amazing, these "brothers." They have been together through the best of times and "hunkered down" through the worst. If Southern women are Steel Magnolias, then these Southern men are Gentle Warriors and most importantly, when it counts, they know how to be, at the very core, lifelong and everlasting friends.
