Oh my, that country twang…

“Hey, Ted!” Walked back into my house from an errand and greeted a neighbor who was, kindly, being a handyman. Ted was on the deck and only vaguely heard me. Stepping back inside, he asked that I repeat what I said. “Hey.” Easy-peasy. Done.

Not. Not done at all. I stopped in my tracks, asking myself if I’d really just said “Hey!” (It’s not as if I haven’t said it 10,000 times before.) You ever have those mini-secs when a door opens from your past and a hazy memory mists its way into your consciousness? “Hey,” such an ordinary word a minute ago was now in freeze-frame, my past and present realities in such contrast. I felt a bit time-drunk since my past aversive feelings regarding “Hey” pulled me in a very different direction than my current feelings.

That’s the rabbit hole I went down. And all because I said “Hey.”

I’ve lived in North Carolina for 27 years, a say “hey” Southern state, with many other renowned colloquialisms as well. However, I wasn’t raised to use “Hey” as a greeting. Not at all. It was proper to say Hello or Hi, but “Hey” - nope. Somehow, my early exposure to “Hey” left me believing it was a country rube term. Using “Hey” was country and ignorant. I wince while writing this….I’m glad my memory is still functional at this age, but am sometimes aghast at the things I do recall.

So let’s just clean out that closet of my, somehow assimilated, “country rube” judgments. I’m a big-city-raised Houston girl. Southern, but kind of not. Somewhere along the cultural path of my growing-up years, I became a bit of a despotic grammarian - correcting people’s language in my head as they talked. Can’t really pin down the source of my country rube-itis, but it matters not at this late date. What matters were my ongoing stringent judgments regarding the intelligence of folks whose deep Southern drawls and colloquialisms I had difficulty understanding. Wincing again. (The trials of being human, replete with my sometimes-challenged views of humanity.)

Colloquialism-wise, in my early North Carolina years, my judgments included:

• Might could;

• Mash that button;

• Hey, honey (jeez, I was a feminist!);

• And heavy Southern drawls

However, living with and experiencing real people in my adoptive state took over. Almost imperceptibly, like water dripping on a rock, my drawl and colloquialism judgments just seemed to wear away. And, my despotic grammarian took early retirement! (Bless her heart 😉) Granted, she does pay a visit every now and then, but the visits are very short in duration.

Am I still afflicted with an attitude of country rube-itis? Probably a tiny bit. (This being human thing redux.) Not an excuse, but a reality I want to strategically manage, just as I try to be mindful of other prejudiced thoughts that still, unexpectedly, pop up in my head. However, the gift of sharing this conundrum with you has allowed me to reclaim my comfort and wholeness with “Hey,” an informal word that better suits who I am than “Hi” or “Hello.” So, wholeheartedly, I can say to all of you, “Hey, y’all!”

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