I am a transplanted Midwestern-sensible type who landed in Gloucester, Massachusetts – a fishing city on the northern coast of Massachusetts. It has taken me a while, but I have learned that you put groceries in BAGS (not sacks), you drink SODA (not pop), and for some unknown reason, you go DOWN CELLAH (instead of the basement) to get your stuff. Even after 21 years, the language barrier still manages to trip me up from time to time, most recently when my husband (a native) was looking for a “shot sleeved shirt,” which I took to mean a ratty one with holes in the sleeves. My mistake.
I grew up in Nebraska (which will always be “home”) in a family of eight. As a young child, I used to climb trees and take a book along so I could 1) be alone and 2) read without interruption. I no longer climb trees, but still consider reading and sewing a much better way to pass the time than watching most of what is on TV. This makes me a dinosaur, and I’m good with that. I spend entirely too much time on my computer, digging around through my stash, and I love to learn, see and do anything with an embroidery needle. I resent having to work for a living when I’d rather be in my sewing room, playing on my computer, reading, or trying to grow flowers and vegetables in the impossibly rocky soil of Cape Ann.
I am a transplant from the southwestern desert to the midwest. I am still marveling at the concepts of “seasons” and “leaves” and “trees.”
I love the seasons, I don’t think I would know what to do without that cyclical change in my life. Right now I’m ready for spring & something grilled outdoors!
LOL. I live in a small town in Nebraska and it cracks me up when my neighbors call a toilet a “stool” you “warsh” your clothes, and if you aren’t careful you’ll get run over by a tractor going 10 mph on a 60 mph road. Oh..and I forgot little the old ladies/men driving huge pick-up trucks instead of Lincoln towncars. I used to think people didn’t care about their trucks as they are covered in dirt until I realized all the roads are pretty much gravel and dirt and there’s no point in washing them. Trucks are for work, not for showing off like they were in Ohio.
In Texas I was told I had an accent (I grew up in Ohio) and here in rural Nebraska I sound way too educated.
I live in a place where the basement is “down cellah,” you put your car in a “gar-arge” and you go “up the line” instead of leaving town. It’s an entirely new vocabulary, and yes – people say to me,”you aren’t from here, are you?” when they hear my lack of the local accent. It is so interesting to see how much linguistic diversity there is between cities!
Love quilts, wanted to make one forever because I’m facinated with fabric patterns.
Thanks for stopping by my blog today, look forward to seeing more of yours.
Jo I’m a Nebraskan who spent several years in Colorado, Texas and now Kansas. In Texas I did a lot of subbing at the HS and students would ask to go get a coke. Of course being a pop drinker and mostly diet Pepsi I would usually tell them yes. Imagine the young man’s surprise when he returned to class and I told him he needed to put his Dr. Pepper on my desk because he had asked to go get a Coke!! Coke meant any soft drink there
When my daughter did a internship in the Boston area several years ago I got to visit her and often got sidetracked listening to the talk but not hearing the words!
Jo, Thanks for helping to get the word out. We all know how Patsy feels at this point. It is so personal! It is beyond my comprehension the ‘why’ but I do know that there are desperate people out there who do what they feel they must do without regard for others! Hugs,