“All nationalistic distinctions — all claims to be better than someone else because you have a different shaped head or speak a different dialect — are entirely spurious, but they are important so long as people believe in them.” George Orwell
It was in the summer after my junior year of high school when two of us represented Ludlow High School at a state-wide meeting of young women. In our small groups, one of the young women challenged my being a Kentuckian because I didn’t sound like a Kentuckian. I responded that I was born in Kentucky and had lived in Kentucky all my life.
Yes, I was born and raised in Kentucky. I was a native Kentuckian but to some folks, I didn’t sound like one.
When I was telling my mother about the occurrence, we remembered a summer visit to my aunt and uncle in North Dakota. They were pastors of a small church in the western part of the state. I was probably eleven or twelve years old at the time. At their Sunday School, the young people wanted me to keep speaking because they loved my southern accent.
So where am I from? In North Dakota, I was southern. In most of Kentucky, I didn’t sound southern at all.
Years later, my young family was visiting relatives in Minneapolis. We chose to stay at a large hotel with a huge indoor tropical area and pool. The young family we were visiting joined us one afternoon so the children could enjoy the pool and the adults could supervise and catch up on conversation.
Several conventions were meeting at the hotel. In the late afternoon, a few of the businessmen came to relax around the pool. One gentleman sat nearby. We smiled greetings but continued with our own conversations.
Later, as we were gathering our things to get ready for dinner, the gentleman said he was a student of dialects. Snippets of our conversation had caught his attention. Usually, he was able to guess a location within fifty miles but our dialect was challenging.
I was remembering those several events from my younger years and was interested, too. I was sure I hadn’t said “please.” “Please” when a substitute for “Would you repeat that?” gives away our closeness to Cincinnati.
We were ready to listen to what he had to say.
He was stymied by the softness of some of my vowels — definitely Southern but not enough Southern, but too soft for much Northern. He finally guessed that we were from an area just South of the Mason Dixon Line.
We laughed heartily. My goodness!
“I was born, grew up, lived my early married life within five blocks south of the Ohio River. You didn’t need fifty miles.”
Dialects.
Interesting for study and fascination.
Must not be used to justify prejudice.
Judy Harris is well established in Northern Kentucky life, as a longtime elementary and university educator. A graduate of Thomas More, she began her career there in 1980 where she played a key role in teacher education and introduced students to national and international travel experiences. She has traveled and studied extensively abroad. She enjoys retirement yet stays in daily contact with university students.