There I stood in the Wal-Mart entrance with more than 10 other families, watching a Sunday afternoon rain shower drench the parking lot. This was no ordinary late afternoon summer thunderstorm. This was an it’s-raining-so-hard-I can’t-see-the-parking-lot thunderstorm. Whether you walk or sprint to the car, it doesn’t matter. By the time you’re inside it feels like you just crawled out of a swimming pool.

So I waited.

Ten minutes was all I could take, though, and when it appeared the monsoon was passed, I made my move. Racing toward my vehicle, I reached into my pocket to press the unlock button on my key chain, managed to lift the Explorer’s tailgate and found shelter as the rain intensified. I was quickly placing my groceries in the back while pondering my next move — run to the driver’s side door or crawl inside and over the back seat — when I was greeted by a soaking wet stranger.

“This fell out of your pocket when you pulled out your keys,” the woman said, handing me a $20 bill while wiping her wet hair from her face.

I was shocked. I don’t know where she came from or how she saw me. Was she also running to her car, hoping not to get soaked, only to have exactly that happen by going out of her way? She couldn’t have been sitting in her car and actually walked out into the storm to return money that I wouldn’t have noticed was missing until I got home, could she?

I thanked her, she smiled and as quickly as she arrived, she splish-spalshed her way back across the parking lot. By the time I closed the car door, I had no idea where she had gone.

Sure, something like that could happen anywhere in America. But you almost expect it to happen in the South. That attitude — the one that causes strangers to smile as they pass on the street, to help out not only because they hope others would do the same for them, but because it’s the right thing to do — is a big reason I decided to move here.

It existed in my old home of Huntsville, Texas. I’ve had other job opportunities and visited other towns in different states, but I never sensed that welcoming feeling of community, of home, that I had in Huntsville.

Until I visited Cullman.

I’ve only been here two weeks, but I already feel comfortable thanks to the numerous smiles, firm handshakes and warm welcomes I’ve received. It might be a little while before I dive into community activities (adjusting to a new job takes time), but I — along with my fiancé, who will move here in January after our wedding — look forward to making Cullman our home.

As for me...

I will celebrate my 30th birthday in September. I know, I look younger.

Yes, I’m tall (6-foot-5). Yes, I did play basketball. I still play whenever I get the chance, but most of my physical recreation time now is reserved for golf and softball.

No, I don’t have much of a Texas accent (a twang distinctly different from a true Southern accent). That’s because I grew up in Houston with millions of people from all over the world who also don’t have a Texas accent. I am “city folk,” but living in a small East Texas town since starting college 11 years ago has given me a great appreciation for life outside the big city.

I graduated from Sam Houston State University in Huntsville. Former CBS newsman Dan Rather is the school’s most famous alum, and I still consider it an honor to have met him despite the less-than glorious end to his career.

Yes, Huntsville is the place in Texas where they execute death row inmates. No, the lights in town do not dim when they “give ‘em the juice.” The “juice” has been a lethal injection for the past 24 years. Yes, I have witnessed executions, and, thankfully, it’s nothing like Hollywood makes it out to be.

On a lighter note, I loath Texas A&M University (a short 45-minute drive from Huntsville). My disdain for the Aggies dates back to childhood, and the rage quickly swelled once I lived close to College Station — well before Dennis Franchione became Enemy No. 1 to Alabama fans. Trust me, you’re better off with Mike Shula anyway.

Don’t assume that because I hope Texas A&M loses every Saturday that I am, by default, a Texas Longhorns fan. I don’t care much for burnt orange either. My idea of a perfect weekend each fall involves the Aggies, Longhorns and Dallas Cowboys all losing.

I have not been here long enough to choose sides in the Alabama-Auburn rivalry. I’m going to defer making that decision until my first-born child goes to college at one institution or the other. Since my first-born child hasn’t been conceived yet, I should be in the clear for another 20 years.

— Brian Lacy is the managing editor of The Cullman Times. Contact him via e-mail at blacy@cullmantimes.com.