Growing up in San Antonio, I remember the newscasters had what was then called Midwestern voices, where you weren’t going to hear any harsh northern pronunciations or any southern lilts in the words as they were read off the teleprompters. As I grew, I remember Mom saying that “the more Midwest you sound, the higher your salary would be on TV.” Never had I contemplated being a TV newscaster; however, random facts, once known as flotsam and jetsam, stayed safely in my brain for future recall at the strangest times. My high school class of 21 people was diverse but with few exceptions, I don’t recall deep southern accents spoken by my classmates, so I never gave it much thought.
Once I arrived at Texas A&M for school, though, I was certainly in for a shock. My freshman math class the first summer (nerd alert: takes a calculus class in the summer) was a wakeup call. Our teacher was fresh out of college and the only language he spoke as a grad student was Math. He was from Dallas but for all the words he said, it was blahblahblah Math. So, there were lots of questions from my fellow students.
I listened interestedly as students from all over the state posed their questions. Intonations, rate of speaking, and numbers of syllables in words once familiar were puzzling. Where were these people from? There was one fellow named Max who asked a question of the prof: “In equazhun three, you have some pa-ren-tha-seas there and I cain’t figger out wazzup they’re.” I was stunned, and then immediately sympathetic. I was sure he had a speech impediment. My heart was opened, and I thought about how brave he was to ask his question.
The prof couldn’t quite determine how to answer his question, and so the guy next to Max decided to help out. When “Jerry” asked the question, I swear he sounded exactly like Max! The words he spoke and how he spoke them blew my mind. There were two of them! Oh, bless their hearts. God love ‘em. How brave they were!
After class I went up and smiled and asked, “Where y’all from?” having fallen gently into the pattern of Texan talk. One smiled back and said, “Monahans.” From the blank look on my face, Max said, “It’s not too far from Odessa.” Ah, I made the connection and smiled. They didn’t have any speech impediments! They were from West Texas! I was the one with the impediment…in my brain. Clearly I’d grown up in the big city and was limited to observing Texas accents on television, many spoken by actors from New York and California. Oh well. That was my first memory of what it was like to be a true Texan, from the south, or any other distinctive quality about the world of the Texas Aggies I would ultimately enter and remain in for the rest of my academic career.
Same with Carol Burnett’s Stella Toddler (“Please don’t hurt me!”). There's no question that Carol's voices made the character but there's also no question that Bob Mackie's costume designs brought those characters to life!
I started a list of phrases I’d never heard growing up, but that I heard regularly here as I “grew up” in my years of studying at A&M. An early favorite came from someone whose name escapes me, but she used to say, “I hear tell that….” Meaning someone had told her and now she was telling me. I thought that was adorable!
I did have one southern expression down cold, though: "Lick of sense." When I was 10 years old, I heard that phrase in Bobbi Gentry’s song, “Ode to Billy Joe.” You know, “It was the third of June, another sleepy, dusty, delta dayyyyy.” Yeah, that one. Anyway you go on into the song and there was a phrase, “Well, Billy Joe never had a liquorsince, pass the biscuits pleaseeee.” I remember my sweet neighbor Susan’s mom, Dolores, driving me to the dentist appointment one summer day while Mom was at work and that song came on the radio.
I asked Dolores, a true Southern girl, what she was singing, and she said, “Oh you know, a lickofsense” and I said, “No, I’ve never heard that. What is she singing?” “Lickofsenselickofsense.” By the confusion on my brow, she said, “He was slow, he didn’t have one bit of common sense about him.” Oh. OH. OHhhhhhh! Finally, breakthrough. Thank goodness for Dolores, because Mama didn’t have a clue what Bobbi Gentry was singing either!
Another favorite expression came from my adoptive grandma, aka MamMaw, who’d call me sometimes at 8:30 am if she had a question, and my late-night study hours were happening while she was fast asleep. If I sounded the least bit groggy, she’d ask, “Are you still laying up in the bed?” and I’d truthfully reply, “Yes, ma’am!” and she’d giggle and say, “It’s long past when you should have gotten up, so get going, girl!” and I’d promise her I would.
It was lovely to hear MamMaw's voice, even if it was to wake me up. She was the same MamMaw who insisted, 20 years later, that I call her when I drove back into town from Houston on business and had arrived home safely. I was in my 40s but I loved the fact that she made me call her to let her know I was safe. That was love. That was MamMaw. She wasn’t my blood relative, by the way. We adopted each other, thanks to her daughter-in-law and son who shared her very sweetly. I’ll have more to say on shared family later.
Another favorite expression I learned was “Momandem” and virtually all of you know instantly that you are reading the words “Mom and all of them” (in the family). When someone inquires about your well-being here, being polite Southerners they are all-inclusive, so they say “How are Momandem?” and you answer, “We are all doing well, thank you!” Or, if someone’s doing poorly, you break out that information at that time, too.
Sweet tea. Um. Is there any other kind? Oh yeah, unsweet tea. It’s when you grow up without sweet tea, you get started out on the wrong road of sipping brown water with virtually no flavor. Southern women make sweet tea, and if you’re fortunate enough, you learn exactly the right way to make it. Boil your water, get out your favorite tea bags (and that is a topic until itself…Lipton, Luzianne, Bigelow…. For another time), and steep them for a good while, then while your brew is still hot as a pistol, you open up a 5-lb bag of sugar and start slowly stirring your concoction. The more seasoned the cook, the more automatic the process, but the end product is worth it.
Homemade sweet tea is to die for. It’s basically a food group and if you have that and just a little of anything else, you’re all set! Through the years, I have been an iced tea afficionado, preferring this nectar to any soft drink by far. I will have much to say about iced tea in another post, but back to southerners and our tea. It’s just “home” for me. I’m not alone. I had to learn temperance, or unsweetened tea, for as much as I consume, but a little discipline is good for you. I call it going off the wagon when I drink the fully uncut sweet tea, but most of my favorite places offer “half and half” tea regularly on their menus. Pretty sure you won’t find that up north at the drive-thrus. I have lots more to say about drive-thru iced teas, for another time (Hint: HTeaO).
Kona — Okay, this one escaped me for a long time as several of my friends said that was where they were going to be and we could meet up there. I hid my ignorance on that one for years and just tried to find a friend to go with me so I wouldn’t be alone to guess where the kona was. Until I meet sweet Nita. Nita was a true Southern girl and she spoke so slowly but sweetly that you didn’t mind waiting for her to finish her sentence, but it was definitely slower than my usual motormouth pace.
Nita said that word first, in my memory, “kona,” when she described an intersection of two blocks and a store there. It didn’t register what she meant because I knew the store’s name. Finally, it was when my buddy Harold Presley was on the radio, playing Lou Vega’s “Mambo No. 5” one day, out of the blue it hit me….”Down to the kona”…..I heard it again!
“One, two, three, four five Everybody in the car, so come on, let’s ride To the liquor store around the corner…”
Bingo! You’d have thought I was Thomas Edison seeing the light bulb work for the first time, haha. My ear became better tuned. I just loved it when Nita said “corner.” Every time I hear “Mambo No. 5” now, I think of Nita, and smile.
I suppose it all “took,” my ear and new education in language skills after a long stretch of time living here.Just ask my friend Patti. When I see her number come up on my phone, I’m known to answer with a rather raucous response, “WAZZZUPPPP” to which she will reply (unless it’s business) with an equally splendiferous response and when we stop laughing, we begin to talk.
When I talk to my friends in Chicago, they tease me about my southern accent and yet, I swear up and down I don’t have one, unless it’s on purpose and for a character voice I’m doing…but we all fall into a groove that we love with and for the people we love, and we just tend to all blend in.
Oh, were that so...beyond simple speech patterns, the ability to blend. And that we could extend and expand that to better understanding of different points of view on various subjects…explored with interest rather than fear…with curiosity rather than concern…with respect rather than righteousness…as my dear brother from another mother, RC, would say, “I know that’s right!”
In the days to come maybe we can all take a page from TAMU Interim President Mark A. Welsh III’s playbook on listening…the more closely we listen to one another, and our hearts, the better we can hear what we are all saying, and welcome new ideas and thoughts different from ours without jumping to approve or disapprove. Just listen. It all begins with one person…no one person is as smart as all of us…my profs at A&M used to share that message with me all the time…back in the day.
Bidding you a good, southern night.
