When I was about 4 years old, we got new nextdoor neighbors, straight from the hills of Tennessee. They would render lard in a big cast iron kettle in the back yard (from butchering their own hogs and beef in the basement), and the mother made her own lye soap. It was almost like living next to the Beverly Hillbillies, but they turned out to be the best neighbors my folks had. Made many improvements to the house and always kept the yard neat as a pin. But I did manage to pick up a bit of a southern accent from hanging around with them and still find myself slipping into it once in awhile.