One of the many things I did while on my break from summer to autumn quarter, was take a trip out to the West Coast to visit some friends in San Francisco. The Bay Area-as locals love to call it-was a wonderful, interesting place, and aside from all the tourist-like things I engaged in while visiting – riding the cable cars, going over the Golden Gate Bridge, visiting the Haight/Ashbury district, prancing around Fisherman’s Wharf – I also spent some time with my California friends just talking and hanging out in their favorite bars, came away with the realization that, apparently, I talk like a grit.
Allow me to qualify that. By “grit” I mean “user of quaint homey words not found on the West Coast.” Like the word “chotch” (your spelling may vary): how many times have I heard this word tossed about in casual conversation here at Ohio State’s campus? Countless. But when I used it in a sentence, my Cali friends all stared at me like I’d grown a second head and started gibbering in Swahili. As I might possibly have been drinking at the time, I found it hard to give a good definition of the word, and we moved on. But the incident was enough to get me thinking about all the words and phrases we use in casual conversation.
I still remember aggravating my mother to no end in high school with my casual use of “My bad” if I goofed up for any reason. And I have more than one friend who uses the maddeningly broken English-ism of dropping the preposition from a phrase. To wit: “Aw crap, I gotta go, the lawn needs mowed” instead of “the lawn needs to be mowed.” My cousin lives in Chicago (Chicago is in the Midwest, right? Riiiight) and any offer of a favor follows the same formula: “You want I should” get the car, pay for dinner, buy a dictionary … maybe not.
The same thing happens when my friends visit from out of state. I’m constantly amazed (and, I gotta admit, amused) at what will fly out of their mouths to describe the simplest of things. Did you know that in Jersey, that rejuvenating liquid is not “water” but “wardur”? No lie. Also, that thing slung over your back with all your books in it; That’s a pocketbook, not a backpack or a purse. No, really. I feel so enlightened.
When I was visiting a friend in Jersey over spring break, we went to Philadelphia, and the highlight of the trip was probably when we went to eat at Johnny Rocket’s and our server was a guy with black hair, a heavy Brooklyn accent and, honest to God, his nametag said “Vinnie.” That is quality.
Boston’s pretty awesome, too. If you go to Bean Town (what kind of name is that? No, seriously, who came up with that?) you don’t make a right turn, you “bang a right.” And “like a bastard” is the preferred modifier to use to describe, say, heavy rain, or something otherwise intense. A drinking fountain is called a “bubbler” and instead of a pop, Coke or soda, a Coke is a “tonic.” So what’s a gin and tonic? Couldn’t tell you.
And speaking of Coke, that’s one I still use all the time, dating from when my family lived in Biloxi, Mississippi for three years. Everything’s a Coke down south, even if you mean a Pepsi. I still catch myself using “y’all” frequently too, because it’s just so convenient. And if you’re getting ready to do something, it’s “you’re fixin'” to go to the bank. Or make dinner. Or whatever. Just thought you might want to know.
I’m not pointing any of this out to mock regionalisms, because, like I said, we have them here in Ohio, too. (How do you say ‘Dayton’? I bet you didn’t pronounce that “T”, did you?) Besides, I think calling a heavy rain a “frog holler” is a lot more fun than just calling it a downpour. So next time your friend manages to eff up the homemade tacos you were working on, just tell them they did it back-asswards and watch them stare at you.
Kat White can be reache at [email protected].
