Monday, March 29, 2010

Southern Accent

"There's a southern accent, where I come from.
The young 'uns call it country
The Yankees call it dumb
I got my own way of talkin'
But everything gets done, with a southern accent
Where I come from." Tom Petty

I'm a forester by education and profession. I've spent most of my working life in central Alabama, buying timber, managing forestland, and dealing with a diverse group of people. It's a challenging job--especially the dealing with people part. On any given day, I may have to effectively communicate with blue collar folks who have never finished high school, all the way up to white collar professionals with advanced college or technical degrees.

Communication--it's a constant challenge we all face. Not just the right words, but also the more intangible aspects: tone, facial expression, volume, cadence, and body language. Sometimes even accent plays a role.

I've been made more aware of the accent aspect recently. I also own a small real estate company, specializing in the sale of farms, forest, and other rural properties. I subscribe to a 1-800 number service for my business. It's a telecommunications slight-of-hand that allows potential customers to dial a toll free number, which then transfers the call to my cell phone. This toll free number is considered to be essential to doing business in this modern world. It's ironic in a way. I would assume that someone who has several thousand dollars to potentially purchase a property would be willing to spring for a long distance call, but apparently not.

My problem is that my toll free number is very similar to that of Comcast, a large telecommunications business. I've been getting a lot of calls from New England lately, especially Massachusetts. The calls invariably go something like this:

Me: "Clifton Land Company, this is Ray."
Caller: Silence.
Me, repeating: "Clifton Land Company, this is Ray"
Caller: More silence, then "Is this Comcast?"
Me: "No, I'm sorry, buy you have the wrong number"
Caller: More silence, then a tentative "O.K.", or "Huh?"

The callers have what I consider to be a heavy northeastern accent, but I have no problem understanding them. I can tell by their reaction, however, that they don't have a clue as to what I'm saying. We live in the same country, speak the same language, watch the same T.V. and entertainment, but you'd never know it. I might as well be speaking Russian or Chinese.

Accents are an integral part of who we are. They attach us to a particular landscape and time. Like it or not, they create an image in a listener's mind. To the callers from Massachusetts, I believe mine may include overhauls, a straw hat, and a banjo. For the record, I don't own a banjo.

The term "southern accent" is really a misnomer. There are a wide variety of variations across the American South. A trained ear can locate your origin from these subtleties. There are distinct differences in the speech patterns and choice of words. South Louisiana is distinct from Virginia. Kentucky southern is distinctly different from the Mississippi variety. Texas southern is different from everywhere else. I don't consider Atlanta or the entire State of Florida in the discussion. There are so many Yankee transplants in those two locations that they might as well be located north of the Mason-Dixon line.

There are also variations within States. Low country southern is softer than hill country southern. Aristocratic low country southern is the softest of all. You can always spot these genteel wannabes because they don't pronounce their "r's". As in, "I rememba the old days in the South. It was a kinda, gentla, sota time..." I agree with Alabama author and fellow hillbilly Rick Bragg about these phonies. Nobody talks like that without a conscious effort to do so.

There's a scene in a movie I like (Slingblade) in which the main character Carl describes the nature of his friendship with a young boy. Carl says "Me and him's good friends. He like's the way I talk and I like the way he talks."

Maybe you and I will talk someday. If so, I hope you'll like the way I talk.

In the meantime, ya'll come see us, and tell yo momma and 'em I said "Hey."

7 comments:

  1. I can´t tell my momma you said hey because she died over a year ago. She was 90, and she lived in Atlanta where she always griped about the Yankees that were/are filling the city.

    I was raised (age 7 to 17) in Jacksonville, Florida, even though I was born and lived very briefly in Atlanta. About 20 years ago, someone who had no idea where I had spent my life told me I sounded like I was from Jacksonville, Florida. Just like that, specifically, the city even. How about that?

    Nice blog, seƱor.

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  2. Felipe:

    The Tom Petty song I quoted at the beginning has a bridge and another verse:

    "For just a minute there I was dreaming
    For just a minute it was all so real
    For just a minute she was standing there, with me

    There's a dream I keep having
    Where my momma comes to me
    And she kneels down by the window
    And says a prayer for me
    I got my own way of prayin'
    But every one's begun
    With a southern accent
    Where I come from."

    Sounds like he wrote the song about his mom. Sorry about yours. I still have mine, but we have been without my dad for 28 years now.

    That's remarkable about the Jacksonville accent. Makes me want to head down there to check it out.

    Thanks for reading and for your kind words. I have read many of your posts over the last few days. You are a fine writer, and your blog is now one of my first stops with my morning coffee.

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  3. Good writing, sir Ray. This post brought to my mind a few good Boudreaux and Thibodaux jokes from Cajunland that revolve around misunderstandings with dialect. Not too many here in Honduras appreciate the finer points of Cajun slang.

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  4. Thanks Laurie. You ever heard the one Lewis Grizzard used to tell about not voting for a man that can't tell the difference between a steamboat whistle and a cow with a bugle in her butt?

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  5. Ray,
    I work in the railroad industry. One day me and another guy were down in your area looking for a piece of equipment. A man told us that we could find it down at the "pupwood yard". We looked at each other and scratched our heads trying to figure out what "pupwood" is. Eventually we found ourselves down in a place where there was nothing but skinny logs piled up and my friend said, "Doesn't look like there is anything here except these piles of pulp wood". Bingo!

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  6. Oh yes, I know all about pupwood. I also know lawgs (rhymes with hawgs, from which we get all kinds of tasty meat: bacon, sausage, and ham).

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  7. I was born and raised in Columbus, Georgia, right across the Chattahoochee River from Phoenix City, Alabama.. Where the Hillbilly Mafia use to be.
    Even though Ive lived in Mexico for 40 years I still cant shake my Southern drawl...guess Im going to the grave with it.
    Hey Ray... we have Croaker sacks in Georgia...
    But I always thought people from around Birmingham had deeper Southern accents than I did.

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