Well, what can I say? I just knew there was a reason I was still hanging onto that Wisconsin Driver’s License. Midwesterners once more…hopefully we can undo some of the damage done to our speech patterns.
A few weeks ago, I produced a sound resembling a strangled growl. I chided Miles. “You have me talking like you, and let me be the first to say that I don’t like it a bit!” His eyes questioning, I explained my case. “When I first moved here, I thought it so bizarre that you referred to every digestible liquid as ‘drink’. Not a drink, or the drink…just drink! No article! ‘I’m going to get some drink, you want some?’ ‘I’ll have some more drink, please.’ AHHHH!" Thoroughly flustered now, I looked at him accusingly. “You have ruined me. You know this, don’t you?”
Miles looked panicky. “No. No no no no no! It can’t be! Oh! God!” He groaned somewhere between frustration and shame. “That’s a SOUTHERN thing. Oh man! I didn’t realize! ”
Mollified by his self-disgust, I pledged, “We’ll reform together.”
He nodded brusquely. “Yeah. We can’t inflict that on our children.”
Too true…I’d rather give them a bundle of , , , , , and . I’m sure this can only serve to make their lives easier, and less open for dialect criticism.
