I Could Do That

The summer before my senior year in college, I lived in Americus, Georgia with my grandparents, Frank and Jennie Stein. By day, I worked on a sweet potato farm near Dawson, Georiga. In the evenings, I did research on Koinonia, a utopian interracial commune located on the outskirts of town. Talk about being in the belly of the beast.

My grandmother, whom we called “Bobo,” used to get unsolicited advice from family members. It kinda reminds me of living in Tel Aviv. No matter what I do cranking out southern soul food comfort here — something few people here know anything about in any substantive way — it doesn’t stop folks from giving me all sorts of unsolicited advice: Here at Etzlenu, I need to start doing a better job of channeling Bobo.

My grandmother’s go-to standard line for all the unwanted advice coming her way was classic, old-style southern speak: “I could do that.” And we all thought that meant, cool, Bobo was going to do what we suggested. Hell no. What she was saying was precisely the opposite: Sure, I COULD theoretically do what you are proposing. But I’l be damned if I am actually going to do it.

I think I need to seriously consider adding that signage to my business: We can do that.