Say what, now?

Here's a little something you should know about me. Just like any number of people I meet in Charlotte, I was born and raised in Ohio. It was a small town just north of Cincinnati, called Lebanon. My husband is from Ohio, too. Though he's actually from Cleveland, which is about as opposite from Cincinnati as you can get. Cincinnati is conservative, Cleveland is more liberal. Cincinnati - more white collar, Cleveland - more blue collar. Cincinnati has a big Appalachian influence, Cleveland seems to have more of an Eastern European influence.

The dialects in both cities are vastly different too. Because of that Appalachian influence, I grew up carrying "UM-brellas", purchasing "IN-surance", and walking on the "CE-ment". And in some areas, you could even catch "feesh" in the "crick". My husband, on the other hand, grew up visiting his "GrrrreammAAAhhhhh" and all the women in his family wore "brAAAAAAAAhhhhhhhhs". (Wow. Those are hard to write out phonetically. Just say the words "Grandma" and "Bra" as nasally and drawn out as humanly possible and you'll be close.) In Cleveland they also do a lot of "Oy-Vey!"-ing, which is a phrase I never heard in any of my formative years. So you'd think that the dialect of our offspring would be somewhere in the middle, right? Well.... actually....... No. They were both born right here in North Carolina and have the sweet southern charm to prove it. Especially Landis, who at the ripe old age of four, has somehow adopted the thickest Good-'ole-boy accent I have ever heard. And because it entertains me, I've compiled a list of all the words he's said recently in a handy little poem -- Spelled phonetically, of course, for your enjoyment. It pretty well sums up a day in our life.............

Mom! I think the dog needs hay-elp!
I'm pretty sure I heard him yay-elp!

I think I landed on his hay-ed
when I jumped down from the bay-ed!

How 'bout some butter spread with jay-a-lee
to go inside my hungry bay-a-lee?

And by the way, I've spilled my may-elk
onto those sheets. Hope they weren't say-elk!

I have no socks, I'm missin' tway-elve
because I threw them off the shay-elves.

No, I don't know what's making that smay-elle!
MOM! It's not nice to say "WHAT THE HAY-ELLE?!"!

I'm gonna run straight up that hee-el.
And then I'm gonna stand real stee-el.

Hey mom, is this a kay-mic-cul?
Hey look at me! I found a nickle!

And look what else I found! A shay-elle!
It looks just like the letter ay-el!

Gibson hit me in the gut!
I'm gonna' whup him on his butt!

Did you get all that? It's true. All of it. The ironic thing is that Gibson's accent isn't nearly as thick as Landis's, and he's two years older. So where does the Lan-Man get it? Who knows. But as we listen to him talk, day after day, Mike just shakes his head in dis-belief with a bemused smile on his face. "Kid," he says. "No one, and I mean no one, would believe that your great-grandparents were straight off the boat from Poland."

Oy-Vey!