Northern as a Second Language---------------------------------------------------
I speak Northern as a second language; I didn’t mean to, it just happened. I was trying to make a living with General Motors and that required me to spend 35 years in the frozen north. Of course Southern is my native tongue, being born in Jackson County and raised in Smith County, and it comes to me as easy as a lie to a politician. But I read Jack McCall’s piece in the Carthage Courier about “Paying Attention,” and it reminded me to pay attention to the difference in the way we talk Down South and the way things are said up north.
Of course, it is more than just what you say, it is the way you say it and when it is said. For instance, those folks up north like to jump right into business and skip all of the “small talk,” as they call it. I was a face-to-face negotiator for a good part of my career with General Motors, and it would just drive the other side crazy when I wanted to ask about their daughters upcoming wedding, inquire after their granny, whom I had learned was in a nursing home, or tell a little story I had heard that might or might not relate to anything we were going to discuss when the negotiations had begun in earnest. After all, they had often flown in from New Jersey or Plano, TX or Palo Alto, California on the morning flight, or better yet the corporate jet, and felt they needed to get down to business in the first three minutes. Not me, I had learned in the South that it is hard to be nasty to someone who had just inquired about your little boys tonsillectomy, and opined that, “well, kids get through these things, but I sure hope the little fellow will feel better tomorrow. You be sure and let me know.” That kind of conversation is hard to follow-up with red faced yelling and cuss words.
My cousin Marva and I were talking about how much difficulty the folks around Franklin, Spring Hill, and Columbia had adjusting to the brusque manner of the northerners who moved down to work at the Tennessee Saturn facility. Those folks wanted to get right down to business while the southern folks were still wanting to find out how they slept last night, and whether they thought the weather would change or not. It was something of a culture clash for the first few years.
The Northern language is dry, as dry as a bone in the desert, while Down South we try to spice it up with a simile whenever possible. I personally was known for the use of barnyard animals in speech.
“Negotiating with you folks, is like trying to teach a pig to whistle – it don’t accomplish a thing, and it just irritates the pig.”
“Negotiating with this company is like wresting with a pig – you both get nasty, but the pig likes it.”
“What is this, some kind of Goat Rodeo?”
“I’m going to work this bunch like a rented mule.”
“You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make him take a bath.”
I once was in negotiations with a company in Short Hills, NJ and a great deal of the work was done by conference phone. The leader of the opposing team later told me that they kept a whiteboard in the room for the sole purpose of noting the barnyard animal similes and analogies I used each day.
A Jewish lawyer from Washington D.C. who sometimes supported my side of negotiations, called me a few years after I had retired and told me he had tried to memorize a lot of my saying and use them himself. “It was going pretty good too,” he said, “until I came to the term Goat Rodeo. I lost them there and someone wanted an explanation and I had nothing.” It is one of those sayings that is best delivered with a Southern accent, I guess.
Well, those fellows from New York and New Jersey are pretty slick, “as slick as a puppy’s navel,” my daddy would say, so I figured that it was just fair play to put them a little off guard with a little Southern speak. One of my friends told me when I retired that when I ever started out a sentence with, “Now I’m just a farm boy from Middle Tennessee….;” that everyone in the room automatically put their hand on their wallet. (By the way – that’s Northern for billfold.) Speaking of which, takes me to the next segment of Northern as a second language.
Down South, we go to the grocery store, nearly have a wreck, push the buggy through the store we trade at, have the groceries put in a bag (or poke) and the boy wheels them out to the car for us.
Up North, they drive to the supermarket, narrowly avoiding an accident, push the shopping cart through the store where they shop, have the groceries put in a sack and wheel them out to their vehicle themselves.
We say you all (pronounced Y’all) – they say “you guys.”
We say “ya hear” – they say “huh, or eh.”
We say creek – they say crick, we say aunt (like the bug) – they say aunt (rhymes with want); we say caught (kawt) – they say caught (cot); we have yard sales (focus on where the sale is) – they have rummage sales (focus on what is being sold); we catch crawfish – they eat crayfish.
We drink coke or co cola (no matter that it is orange or grape) – and they drink pop (unless you are from down east and then it is soda) And not one of my Northern friends would even know what a Yoo-hoo is
We travel on interstates – and up north one drives on the freeway. The night before Halloween is Devil’s Night up north and down South it is “the night before Halloween.” By the way, we carve punkins into Jack-o-lanterns and wear false faces; but they use pumpkins that look just like a punkin and wear masks.
Up north if someone were to say “bless her heart” it would mean they are thinking kind thoughts about her, down South it means what the person who says that is thinking is too awful to repeat in polite company. Some Southern words do not translate directly into Northern lingo. For instance, cattywampus, skygogling, whamperjawed, thingamadiger, doohickey, whatchamacallit; and other like, perfectly good but made up words. Other words, like booger means one thing down South but that same thing is called boogie up North. Boogie Man or Booger Man, you decide.
Down South people have conniptions, and pitch hissy fits, while up north they only “have a hemorrhage” when things go wrong. Up North, all of us are considered “crackers,” “briars,” or “hillbillies”, down South we know that a cracker is from “Jawja,” a briar is what blackberry cobbler comes from, and the hillbillies are on TV.
Down south we also like to run words together into a single syllable or to break words into as many syllables as possible. Like “Momenems”. Used in a sentence it would be “After this thing is over we’er going over to Momenems to get something to eat.” Or words which take on their own meaning like “Laisleb” which is a short form of “Well I will be”; or adding syllable as in Mis-ris, for Mrs or Jewl-er-ry for jewelry.
In the Movie “I Remember Mama” Uncle Kris tells his sick and suffering young nephew that he needs a swear word to use when the pain comes but that he must not use one in English, since people will be offended, rather he teaches the boy a swear word in Swedish – whether actually a swear word or not the audience is left to wonder. Southerners are particularly adept at using “light” swear words, For instance, my mother-in-law’s swear word was “well foot.” When she was disappointed, up-set, or surprised, she said, “well foot.” Dang, dog gone, dern it, Goodness Gracious, Gracious Me, well I’ll be _____, dag nab it, this blamed thing, are all euphoniums used by Southerners for swear words – Northerners are generally more direct.
While I noticed a sizeable erosion in the Southern tongue during my 35 years in the North, primarily I suppose, as a result of the man on the six o’clock news, there is still a big difference. As I often told my friends at work, “Yawl talk at 45 and I listen at 33 1/3 – but now no one under 35 would even understand that term anymore. I only know that when I got south of the Ohio River my tongue relaxed.
I never made a conscious effort to lose my Southern accent, since in a company as large as GM being remembered, even for your accent, was a good thing. I remember once being sent to a large meeting at the GM Technical Center in Warren, MI where 22,000 people worked. I was to make a presentation to a group of executives. When I arrived back at the plant, my boss called me in the office chuckling. “Well,” he said, “you made an impression, the Assistant Comptroller called to complement “that guy” who made the presentation. When I asked him, what guy, he replied, “the one who talks like Catfish Hunter.”
I suppose it doesn’t matter whether our speech is Northern or Southern but I do wish it was a little more sprinkled with civility. That we were more careful about the use of our Creators name in vain, that we were a little more polite and kind to one another, that we were less quick to be blunt and hurtful in our comments.
The Apostle Paul admonished us to speak the truth in love, but my granny just said, “If you can’t say something nice about someone, don’t say anything at all.” Let’s look for those “apples of gold in pitchers of silver.”
Have a blessed day, Bob
Monday, June 28, 2010
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Signs and Wonders
Signs and Wonders.------------------------------------------------
I passed the Rome church of Christ today and noticed the sign said, “Be sure you don’t mistake Pleasure for Happiness.” I thought the sign was pretty appropriate as a punctuation mark to the conversation the brown eyed girl and I had been having for the previous couple of miles. She had noted that in nearly every yard, there was a motorcycle, a bass boat with a huge motor on the back, or a Skidoo of some description or another.
A couple of days ago a young fellow had passed us on I 40 as if we were sitting still. We were going near 70 mph so he must have been exceeding 85 or 90. The scary part was that he was on a motorcycle, It was one of those Japanese racing models that sounds as if a couple of brigades of soldiers were in a chainsaw fight. One loose pebble on the road and that young man would have been standing face to face with Saint Peter, or at lease face to face with someone.
I assume that part if it is that I am getting older. but there seems to be an obsession with speed and danger these days. Everyone wants the fastest boat, the highest roller coaster, the steepest rock climb, the most powerful motorcycle, the most dangerous bungee jump (which is just about any bungee jump, in my opinion). They want to live on the edge, experience danger close=up, get the newest adrenaline high.
It has always been my theory that man is put onto this earth with a big God shaped hole in him, and until he fills himself with God, he feels empty and incomplete. So you can dance as fast as you can, drink as much as you can, live on the edge with motorcycles, skidoos, bungee jumps, and roller coasters, but until the God shaped hole is filled, one still feels empty and incomplete. You can buy the most expensive homes and cars, take the most exotic vacations, wear $400.00 designer jeans and snake skin boots, but none of these will fill the hole. Only the God of the Universe fits in this hole and nothing else will plug the leak that leaves one feeling empty and alone.
Now a lot of times when I read those church marquees it is truly a matter of Signs and Wonders. I Wonder why they think that Sign is cleaver. But the sign at Rome today, well, it just hit the sweet spot.
“Be sure you don’t mistake Pleasure for Happiness.”
Have a blessed day and visit us at the Maple Hill church of Christ. Bob
I passed the Rome church of Christ today and noticed the sign said, “Be sure you don’t mistake Pleasure for Happiness.” I thought the sign was pretty appropriate as a punctuation mark to the conversation the brown eyed girl and I had been having for the previous couple of miles. She had noted that in nearly every yard, there was a motorcycle, a bass boat with a huge motor on the back, or a Skidoo of some description or another.
A couple of days ago a young fellow had passed us on I 40 as if we were sitting still. We were going near 70 mph so he must have been exceeding 85 or 90. The scary part was that he was on a motorcycle, It was one of those Japanese racing models that sounds as if a couple of brigades of soldiers were in a chainsaw fight. One loose pebble on the road and that young man would have been standing face to face with Saint Peter, or at lease face to face with someone.
I assume that part if it is that I am getting older. but there seems to be an obsession with speed and danger these days. Everyone wants the fastest boat, the highest roller coaster, the steepest rock climb, the most powerful motorcycle, the most dangerous bungee jump (which is just about any bungee jump, in my opinion). They want to live on the edge, experience danger close=up, get the newest adrenaline high.
It has always been my theory that man is put onto this earth with a big God shaped hole in him, and until he fills himself with God, he feels empty and incomplete. So you can dance as fast as you can, drink as much as you can, live on the edge with motorcycles, skidoos, bungee jumps, and roller coasters, but until the God shaped hole is filled, one still feels empty and incomplete. You can buy the most expensive homes and cars, take the most exotic vacations, wear $400.00 designer jeans and snake skin boots, but none of these will fill the hole. Only the God of the Universe fits in this hole and nothing else will plug the leak that leaves one feeling empty and alone.
Now a lot of times when I read those church marquees it is truly a matter of Signs and Wonders. I Wonder why they think that Sign is cleaver. But the sign at Rome today, well, it just hit the sweet spot.
“Be sure you don’t mistake Pleasure for Happiness.”
Have a blessed day and visit us at the Maple Hill church of Christ. Bob
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Little things really do mean a lot.
Ground hogs and Grits--------------------------------
There are some things in the world which I feel are highly underrated; things that should be held in high esteem but through ignorance and apathy are misunderstood and ignored.
One example is the ground hog, also known as the wood chuck or the whistle pig, depending on where in the United States you are calling one. The ground hog is, after all, the only animal that has a day named after him on your calendar. As highly regarded as the dog and cat are there is no dog day or cat day on you calendar. Oh, we refer to the “dog days of summer” but that is simply an expression, and holds no sway on the official calendar. But check February 2nd and there it is; the whistle pig’s very own day.
It’s not surprising when you think about all the things the little fellow can do. He makes a pretty good dish, baked up with sweet potatoes on each side of him, and that ground hog hide makes the best shoe laces you ever tied in your life. He is a weather forecaster, a hole digger, and is as clean as a whistle, why he eats only the best grass and corn from your patch. He even has a song about him;
Yonder comes Sal with a snigger and a grin
Yonder comes Sal with a snigger and a grin
Yonder comes Sal with a snigger and a grin
Ground hog grease all over her chin.
Bring a long pole and twist him out
Bring a long pole and twist him out
Bring a long pole and twist him out
Oh my, ain’t a Ground Hog stout.
Grits, well there is just no end to the usefulness of that commodity and most Yankees I met up north didn’t have a clue what they were all about.
The fact is though, that grits are the most useful in the North, not the South at all. It was a real good thing to carry a big sack in the back of your car. Not only did they add weight to the back end (of the car) to keep you from sliding around on all that snow and Ice, if you really got stuck, you could open that sack, sprinkle some on the ground in front of your tire and they acted just like sand, giving you enough traction to get out of that hole. Grits also make a great cleanser for your hands when the Lava Soap is all gone. If you had oil and grease on you hands from working on the tractor, Mama would just pour some grits in your hands, all lathered up with regular soap, and those hands would soon be pink and shiny.
Not only did the Yankees not have any clue about the many uses of grits they had no idea how to eat them. They thought they were cream of wheat or something. They would sprinkle sugar on them, pour milk over them, and then complain because they didn’t taste good. Well, I guess not, everybody knows grits are eaten hot, with a ¼ inch pat of butter in the middle and a little salt and pepper on the top. It doesn’t hurt if there is a little red eye gravy to drizzle on top either.
Ground hogs and grits are just a couple of those little things of which people overlook the value; and that is the real point of this story. (You knew there would be one, didn’t you?) It is the everyday things that we come to take for granted that make our life the color, taste, and flavor that it is. It is these small things, like rainbows from angry skies, butterflies that light on, and light up, our flowers, and red birds that sit in our Crape Myrtle and look smack in the bay window at us, for which we ought to remember to give God thanks. Oh, and it wouldn’t hurt to mention groundhogs and grits now and then either.
Have a blessed day, Bob
There are some things in the world which I feel are highly underrated; things that should be held in high esteem but through ignorance and apathy are misunderstood and ignored.
One example is the ground hog, also known as the wood chuck or the whistle pig, depending on where in the United States you are calling one. The ground hog is, after all, the only animal that has a day named after him on your calendar. As highly regarded as the dog and cat are there is no dog day or cat day on you calendar. Oh, we refer to the “dog days of summer” but that is simply an expression, and holds no sway on the official calendar. But check February 2nd and there it is; the whistle pig’s very own day.
It’s not surprising when you think about all the things the little fellow can do. He makes a pretty good dish, baked up with sweet potatoes on each side of him, and that ground hog hide makes the best shoe laces you ever tied in your life. He is a weather forecaster, a hole digger, and is as clean as a whistle, why he eats only the best grass and corn from your patch. He even has a song about him;
Yonder comes Sal with a snigger and a grin
Yonder comes Sal with a snigger and a grin
Yonder comes Sal with a snigger and a grin
Ground hog grease all over her chin.
Bring a long pole and twist him out
Bring a long pole and twist him out
Bring a long pole and twist him out
Oh my, ain’t a Ground Hog stout.
Grits, well there is just no end to the usefulness of that commodity and most Yankees I met up north didn’t have a clue what they were all about.
The fact is though, that grits are the most useful in the North, not the South at all. It was a real good thing to carry a big sack in the back of your car. Not only did they add weight to the back end (of the car) to keep you from sliding around on all that snow and Ice, if you really got stuck, you could open that sack, sprinkle some on the ground in front of your tire and they acted just like sand, giving you enough traction to get out of that hole. Grits also make a great cleanser for your hands when the Lava Soap is all gone. If you had oil and grease on you hands from working on the tractor, Mama would just pour some grits in your hands, all lathered up with regular soap, and those hands would soon be pink and shiny.
Not only did the Yankees not have any clue about the many uses of grits they had no idea how to eat them. They thought they were cream of wheat or something. They would sprinkle sugar on them, pour milk over them, and then complain because they didn’t taste good. Well, I guess not, everybody knows grits are eaten hot, with a ¼ inch pat of butter in the middle and a little salt and pepper on the top. It doesn’t hurt if there is a little red eye gravy to drizzle on top either.
Ground hogs and grits are just a couple of those little things of which people overlook the value; and that is the real point of this story. (You knew there would be one, didn’t you?) It is the everyday things that we come to take for granted that make our life the color, taste, and flavor that it is. It is these small things, like rainbows from angry skies, butterflies that light on, and light up, our flowers, and red birds that sit in our Crape Myrtle and look smack in the bay window at us, for which we ought to remember to give God thanks. Oh, and it wouldn’t hurt to mention groundhogs and grits now and then either.
Have a blessed day, Bob
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Unto the Least of These
The Least of These------------------------------------------------------------------
The brown eyed girl and I decided to get away for a couple of days and ended up at the Smokey Mountains. After a ride in the mountains, we stopped at Taco Bell and promised to do better at dinner time. We had been riding along discussing spiritual things since she had been reading “Who is My Brother” by Lagard Smith. When I stopped at Taco Bell, we were in the middle of a spirited theological discussion and I jumped out of the van suggesting that she, “hold that thought and I will be right back.”
Standing in line waiting to order my Burrito Supreme, I noticed a fairly nice looking young man, plainly dressed and wearing a backpack approach the manager and announce in a heavy accent that seemed to be from a former Soviet Block country, “I am looking for a job, do you have any openings?” The manager explained that they were taking applications, but not hiring at that time. The young man took the application and noted that he did not currently have an address that he could put down. The manager replied that this would be ok but that he would need a phone number, to which the young man quietly replied, “I haff no phone.” “I sorry,” the manager said in a seemingly sincere way, “but without an address or phone number, I cannot take your application.”
The young man nodded, then ask if he could bother the manager for a cup of water. The manager smiled, drew a cup of water and handed to the wanderer who walked near the door and slowly drank the cold water. My mind was racing checking to see how much cash I had in my pocket, when the lady in front of me in line walked to the young man and handed him a ten dollar bill, saying, “Here, I want you to have this.”
“Why do you do this for me?” the young man asked with a genuinely puzzled look on his face. “I just want you to have it,” she replied quietly. He lowered his head, nodded slightly and folded the bill and stuck it into the pocket of his rolled up jeans. She smiled back, and walked out the door, got in her car and drove away. He also immediately exited and rode away on his bike, pack still on his back.
When the brown eyed girl and I drove past a nearby Kroger Store, the young man was looking at a large sign that said, “NOW HIRING.” I pray that his luck was better than at the Taco Bell.
Somehow the theological conversation we were engaged in, now seemed much less important than before and we simply sat quietly as I shared the story with my bride.
Matthew 25: 34-40 34"Then the King will say to those on his right, 'Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. 35For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, 36I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.'
37"Then the righteous will answer him, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? 38When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? 39When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?'
40"The King will reply, 'I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.'
Seeing the precepts of The King put in action is a humbling experience.
Visit us at Maple Hill, a church of Christ in Lebanon, TN as we learn together to be children of the King. Bob
The brown eyed girl and I decided to get away for a couple of days and ended up at the Smokey Mountains. After a ride in the mountains, we stopped at Taco Bell and promised to do better at dinner time. We had been riding along discussing spiritual things since she had been reading “Who is My Brother” by Lagard Smith. When I stopped at Taco Bell, we were in the middle of a spirited theological discussion and I jumped out of the van suggesting that she, “hold that thought and I will be right back.”
Standing in line waiting to order my Burrito Supreme, I noticed a fairly nice looking young man, plainly dressed and wearing a backpack approach the manager and announce in a heavy accent that seemed to be from a former Soviet Block country, “I am looking for a job, do you have any openings?” The manager explained that they were taking applications, but not hiring at that time. The young man took the application and noted that he did not currently have an address that he could put down. The manager replied that this would be ok but that he would need a phone number, to which the young man quietly replied, “I haff no phone.” “I sorry,” the manager said in a seemingly sincere way, “but without an address or phone number, I cannot take your application.”
The young man nodded, then ask if he could bother the manager for a cup of water. The manager smiled, drew a cup of water and handed to the wanderer who walked near the door and slowly drank the cold water. My mind was racing checking to see how much cash I had in my pocket, when the lady in front of me in line walked to the young man and handed him a ten dollar bill, saying, “Here, I want you to have this.”
“Why do you do this for me?” the young man asked with a genuinely puzzled look on his face. “I just want you to have it,” she replied quietly. He lowered his head, nodded slightly and folded the bill and stuck it into the pocket of his rolled up jeans. She smiled back, and walked out the door, got in her car and drove away. He also immediately exited and rode away on his bike, pack still on his back.
When the brown eyed girl and I drove past a nearby Kroger Store, the young man was looking at a large sign that said, “NOW HIRING.” I pray that his luck was better than at the Taco Bell.
Somehow the theological conversation we were engaged in, now seemed much less important than before and we simply sat quietly as I shared the story with my bride.
Matthew 25: 34-40 34"Then the King will say to those on his right, 'Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. 35For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, 36I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.'
37"Then the righteous will answer him, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? 38When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? 39When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?'
40"The King will reply, 'I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.'
Seeing the precepts of The King put in action is a humbling experience.
Visit us at Maple Hill, a church of Christ in Lebanon, TN as we learn together to be children of the King. Bob
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