Have you ever been to the South? No, not that kind of South. The Deep South.
 
You might have been to the Deep South if you’ve ever seen a six-foot-long chicken snake guarding a dilapidated barn.

 

You might have been to the Deep South if you’ve ever seen a Purina sign plastered on the front of a local Feed and Seed.

 

You might have been to the Deep South if “I” is pronounced with the long “I” sound.

 

You might have been to the Deep South if you’ve ever floated down the Cahaba River and spotted two gator eyes staring at you from above the water.

 

You might have been to the Deep South if you’ve ever slipped on your waders and fly-fished at the Sipsey Fork in 58-degree water.

 

You might have been to the Deep South if you’ve ever been to a local “Tough Man” competition.

 

You might have been to the Deep South if you’ve ever toured Sturdivant Hall in Selma, wary of Parkman’s ghost.

 

You might have been to the Deep South if you’ve walked over the Edmund Pettus Bridge and smelled the gentle mists of the Alabama River.

 

You might have been to the Deep South if you’ve ever been to the Pizza Bar in Carbon Hill and tasted their famous ham & cheese sandwich.

 

You might have been to the Deep South if you’ve ever heard reveille ringing through the campus of Marion Military Institute on a foggy cold morning.

 

You might have been to the Deep South if you’ve ever had a door held open for you, and a “How-de-do?” offered hospitably.

 

You might have been to the Deep South if you’ve ever attended a football game at the Capstone or on the Plains one bright Saturday in fall, head swiveling at the ten thousand pretty girls in dresses, holding a shaker one hand and a Dixie cup in the other.

 

Here in the Deep South, our roots run deep. Our faith runs deep. And we don’t apologize for it.

 

Come inside and see what we’re all about, here in the Deep South.

 

It’s more than just sweet potater pie.