As was masterfully depicted in the movie My Cousin Vinny, there are significant regional dialectic differences which exist in the United States (Ed. note: That means people in the South talk funny). Also, we were reminded of how delightful grits can be.
I’ve had several personal experiences with Southerners, mostly in Midwest and Northeast locations, in which I was struck by their folksy, down-home sayings, which Midwesterners and Northeasterners (I toyed with calling them “Nor’Easters,” but you and I both know that has a very different meaning pertaining to weather patterns) are simply unable to deliver with a straight face.
Specifically, as a member of the clarinet section in the University of Kansas Marching Jayhawks, way back in the late 1970’s and early 1980’s, I was exposed to an assistant band director, whom I will call Jim (because that’s his name), who was fond of saying, “Early is on-time. . .on-time is late,” apparently reinforcing Jim’s belief that, not only should one be on time for scheduled events, but one should also strive to be there early (this is a lesson I have not taken to heart, as I am late to everything). Only Jim’s delivery drew that phrase out, with a Southern drawl, that you wouldn’t think exists in the state of Kansas, because it’s not exactly the “Deep South, although there is sort of a faux-Southern vibe there, and Kansans definitely have a Southern twang in play. In any event, Jim’s phonetic pronunciation went something like this: “Ahhr-lee is ow-ahn tahm, ow-ahn tahm is late” - folksy, and down-home, and home-spun, all at the same time, no?
A second instance of an encounter with an expatriate Southerner occurred years later, when I was living in Philadelphia, and one of my colleagues, whom I will call Bob (because I can’t remember his name), responded to my question regarding whether or not a business initiative we were discussing was operationally feasible with, “We can do it - all it takes is time and money.” Now, Bob (or, whatever his name was) hailed originally from Tennessee, if memory serves (and, clearly, in this instance memory is not serving me well), and his catchphrase, depicted phonetically, might be, “. . .owl it takes is tahm and munny” - the first part is not terribly meaningful. Again, it captures the imagination, when spun with a Southern drawl.
The third instance of a Southerner’s dispensing a folksy, down-home, home-spun bit of wisdom surfaced a few years later, when I was working in the Detroit area (I know, I’m quite well-traveled), and my boss, Dan, who was from Arkansas originally (Kansans, by the way, sometimes refer to it as, “Ar-Kansas,” with a hard “as” at the end - cute, huh?), would oftentimes conclude his staff meetings by looking up and around the conference table, and proclaim, “Well, it looks like it’s time to call in the dogs, and piss on the fire.” I think this one was my favorite, and, my weak attempt at outlining this phrase phonetically would be, “Waall, it looks lahk it’s tahm to cowl in the dawgs, and piss own the fahr.” Brilliant!
Owning the ability to wax poetic (in a Southern vein) in a foreign land, such as Detroit, didn’t always play out effectively. I recall hearing of Dan’s dining in a local restaurant, and, as a waitress placed a glass of wine in front of Dan, he asked, quizzically, “Well, what’s that?” (you now, “Waall, whut’s that?”)
The waitress responded with, “Why that’s the glass of wine you ordered, sir: the Asti” (no translation required here, because the waitress was not an expatriate Southerner) - assuming, I imagine, that he wanted an glass of Asti Spumante, which the Rule of Three research team readily confirms, no one has asked for, ever, in the history of ordering a glass of wine.
Dan’s retort: “I didn’t order Asti, I ordered an iced-tea.” (loose translation: “Ah didn’t ower-der Ahhs-tee, ah ower-dered an ahhs-tee.”)
But, a word of caution for those of you playing at home: If you are not, in fact, a true Southerner (or even a faux-Southerner, like our friends in Kansas), do not, allow me to repeat, do not attempt to unfurl these phrases, or other such folksy, down-home, home-spun expressions - they will fall flat - those of us who are not true Southerners are simply not able to carry it off.
Now, you should know that I am not a Southerner (in spite of my last name) - I speak “regular,” which is to say, with a Chicago accent, which I am able to deploy when required, even though I have not called Chicago home for more than twenty-five years.
Upon moving to Philadelphia, twenty-five years ago, I was struck by the significant regional dialectic differences (Ed. note: That means people in Philadelphia talk funny). Also, I quickly learned how delightful cheesesteaks can be.
For those of you who are native Philadelphians (yes, South Jersey counts too), I have an exercise for you: Please take a moment to pronounce the following three words out loud:
Strong
Struck
Struggle
Done? Okay, now be honest - you inserted an “H” there that really doesn’t belong, didn’t you? To wit:
Shtrong
Shtruck
Shtruggle
Don’t be embarrassed - embrace it - I find it endearing. I am also quite amused by Philadelphians’ pronunciation of another local delicacy: “Water Ice” (pronounced locally as “Wood-er Ice.”
Crafting this column has made me ravenous. I think I’ll head out now in search of a cheesesteak, water ice, and grits.
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I love it, you drew me in with your picture, I love when Vinny talks about “the two youts”! I also remember well when you drew us in to the world of “wood-er ice” and took us to lunch at the place where Skinny Merlino was supposed to get whacked!🤣 AND the Kansas twang is real, I catch myself slipping back into it at times after a few cocktails (or 3.2 beers!)🤣🍻