Heaven South by Brad Paisley

play it while reading

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Stage 2 : The Culture Shock: “Wait, Why Is Everything Closed on Sunday?

The charm is still alive, but reality starts to hit.
You realize:

• Traffic on Murfreesboro Road never makes sense.
• Everyone drives a really nice SUV.
• And no, you can’t just “pop over” to Nashville during rush hour.

Also, someone mentions “going to The Factory” and you think it’s an industrial warehouse—not a converted historic hotspot with art galleries and coffee shops.

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Stage 3: The BBQ & Boots Awakening: “I’m Starting to Get It Now”

You have your first taste of real Southern barbecue—probably at Martin’s, Puckett’s, or somewhere someone swore “only the locals know about.”

You buy boots for “fall festival season” and realize they’re also acceptable wedding attire.

You start saying:

“It’s not hot—it’s just humid.”

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Stage 4: Event Immersion: “I Went to Pumpkin Fest and Lived to Tell the Tale”

Suddenly your calendar is full:

• Main Street Festival in spring
• PumpkinFest in fall
• Dickens of a Christmas in winter
• Pilgrimage Music Festival if you’re feeling wild

You finally understand:

• Where to park (and where not to)
• How to navigate crowds
• The power of a folding chair at a public event

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Stage 5: Soft Southernization: “I Say Y’ all Now and I’m Fine With That”

Your wardrobe shifts: more denim, more layers for unpredictable Tennessee weather, and somehow… more monograms.

You’ve started:

• Drinking sweet tea without complaining
• Preferring hot chicken over hot yoga
• Calling Nashville “up the road” (even if it’s a 45-minute drive)

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Stage 6: Civic Pride: “This Is the Best Small Town in America”

You know about Harlinsdale Farm, Leiper’s Fork, and where to get the best biscuits within a 5-mile radius.
You bring all visiting friends to:

• Franklin Theatre
• The Factory
• That one scenic overlook you keep secret

You correct people who pronounce it “Frank-lin” instead of “FRANK-lin” (with subtle Southern emphasis).

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Stage 7: Full Integration: “I’m Basically a Native Now”

You’ve lived here long enough that:

• You give directions based on where something used to be
• You know which church is which by the parking lot size
• You have strong opinions about Williamson County schools
• You say things like “We don’t do that here” when someone suggests a big-city idea

You might still be a transplant, but you’ve earned the title:

Franklin Local.