Many moves, our father died dyen the wool new yorker, transferred to georgia. he was a bull in the china shop. he didn't know what to make of the exceedingly nice, overly charming southerners who wouldn't say a bad thing about anyone, or at least to anybody. it got so bad when someone said, "y'all come back," my dad said, "when?" my mom would say they're just being nice, but he wasn't buying it. he thought they were hiding something, just too classy to say something. probably sometng in his case, because i'm sure they were thinking y'all please don't come back. my dad was not so big on subtle ...