By DAN LANGFORD

What a funny word this is!  It lends itself to so many misuses.  Yankees say things like “Enough, already!” – a usage which grates unbelievably on Southern ears and sensibilities.    In fairness, though, Southerners have their own misuse of the word — or actually a substitute for it — the word “done.”  One wouldn’t normally hear this misuse in higher circles of the South (except perhaps as emphasis of a matter), but it’s altogether common throughout our land.

My late grandmother came home from the schoolhouse one day in the fifties and asked her cook, Mamie, where my grandaddy was.  Mamie’s brow creased with worry as she answered, “Oh, Miss Kathryn, he’s done been t’da bank an’ done borrowed th’money t’buy s’mo land.”  We still call the portion of the farm he purchased that day “Dunborrow.”

More recently, my children’s school principal moved to another state to become a headmaster.  On his last work day in Georgia, I heard one of his fellow staff members tell him he just couldn’t leave — that they couldn’t do without him.  He looked a little hangdog and said he had to, because “they’ve done found my replacement.”  He obviously knew better, but as I’ve said before, it’s perfectly permissable to misuse English for emphasis so long as it’s apparent to everyone that one knows better.

I believe I’ve done said enough on this topic, so until next time…

By DAN LANGFORD

An old Southern habit, now mostly vanished in time, was that of younger siblings calling the oldest sister in their family not by her first name, but simply “Sister,” which was usually pronounced “Sistuh.”  This was almost always the case with a first-born child who happened to be a girl.   It was a badge of distinction, and younger siblings used the quaint honorific until they died.

Occasionally the nickname would totally eclipse the girl’s name for friends and neighbors as well, and she would be known to everyone as “Sistuh” or “Sis” for her entire life.  When courtesy titles came into play, the result could be funny — “Aunt Sistuh” and “Miss Sistuh” were heard, perhaps not commonly, but neither rarely, around the South in days gone by.

By DAN LANGFORD

Amongst the most common spoken Southern contractions are those involving helping verbs.  We might write “I am going to recommend that you stop right now,” but that’s an awful mouthful to say.  What we’d generally say, unless making a formal speech, is something more like “I’m'o recommend that you stop right now.”  I’m not sure how to punctuate it in writing, but I suspect most of us say it, as I’ve heard it from all classes of folks all my life.  Now I’m'o explain another common one.

We use “can” as a helping verb generally meaning ability and/or willingness to do something, as in “I can take care of that for you.”  What we’d probably say is “I’gn,” as in “I’gn handle that.”  It pretty well works no matter what the pronoun — “you’gn borrow the car tonight,” “he’gn hold his breath for three minutes,” “we’gn go out to eat tomorrow night,” and “they’gn just kiss my…..” — you get the picture.

I’m open to suggestions as to how and spell these common contractions, for we ought to be able to reduce these nuances of Southern speech into writing in the clearest way possible.   You’gn just post a comment with any suggestions you might have.  I’m'o be waiting with great anticipation.

By DAN LANGFORD

In these times of national economic woe, a reminder from the agricultural days of the Old South might be worth resurrecting: “Don’t eat the seed corn.”  Ears of corn held back at each harvest were dried and stored for planting the following spring.  Any family who ate its seed corn either did so under the direst of economic circumstances, or was totally and completely feckless.  “Don’t eat the seed corn” means don’t live beyond your means; don’t exhaust your savings.  My next-door-neighbor, who happens to be my ninety-year-old great aunt, puts it a little differently:  “I’ve been bent several times in my life, but I’ve never been broke.”  Not ever eating the seed corn has enabled her to say this in her old age.  May we younger folks be so wise.