By DAN LANGFORD

I was reminded at a family gathering yesterday of a funny old rural pronunciation I haven’t thought of in years.  My younger brother’s little boy was out playing in the yard, and got scared about a flying insect.  He called to his daddy, who saw the bug and proclaimed, “It’s a wawst!”

My brother speaks impeccable English, but he, like I, often gets so tickled by various mispronunciations that he’ll incorporate them into his speech for fun.  Wawsts, for those who may not have figured out what I’m talking about yet, are wasps; but our late daddy used to laugh about how everyone around Brooks, GA called them “wawsts” during his growing-up years.

Wawst season is about over, but when the weather begins getting warm next spring, be mindful of them when you’re outdoors.  Few things hurt worse than a wawst sting.

By DAN LANGFORD

Outside on our farm the other night, my thirteen-year-old son saw tiny yellow lights flashing intermittently around the field, and exclaimed, “Look, Dad!  Fireflies!”  I was so ashamed of myself I wanted to dress in sackcloth and sit in a heap of ashes.  What kind of job have I done as a  proud Southern father, if my own son knows no better than to call those flitting beacons of the night sky “fireflies?”  Not a very good one, I must confess.

I don’t know what kind of term “fireflies” is, but where I come from, it’s as alien as Sanskrit.  “Lightning bugs” is what the fascinating creatures are.  I know my son has heard the correct term – we live in the countryside and lightning bugs are a staple of the warm night skies.  We’ve observed them together many times, and I have never, ever, called them “fireflies.”  Why, then, did he default to the generic when he could’ve used the magical and lyrical term “lightning bugs?”  I don’t know the answer, but I think it is a shame.