muckefuck | You have got to show me

You have got to show me

I couldn't help myself; I finally succumbed to the latest dialect quiz that's sweeping the nation. Problems arose with the very first question, which attempts to determine your pronunciation of aunt based on which of three words it "rhymes with". One of these words is caught, which left me thinking, Are there actually people who say "aught" for "aunt"? Later questions make it clear that the author uses "rhymes with" to mean "contains the same vowel as". Very, very sloppy!

The result confirms what I've long suspected: That my speech has taken on more "Southern" characteristics as a result of living in the North. Sounds counterintuitive, doesn't it? But the extent to which one adopts an accent is strongly correlated with the extent to which one (consciously or unconsciously) identifies with its speakers. Despite 16 years in this city, I still don't think of myself as a Chicagoan; I'm a St. Louisan living in exile. To maintain this identity, I avoid a lot of localisms and strive to remember the folksy terms my parents and relatives used. Sometimes, I think, this leads to overcorrections, as I start saying things they never did (like "y'all").

I still bristle whenever anyone calls St. Louis "the South". In reality, it's an interesting transitional zone. Garreau calls it an outpost of The Foundry on the border between The Breadbasket and Dixie. Linguistically, it's more closely allied to the urban centres of northern Ohio than those of Iowa or Kentucky. It may be below the Bourbon Line but it's definitely north of the Sweet Tea Line.

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Plus, what is UP with deep-fried ravioli??

I agree that the transitional zone---which I submit also includes parts of southern IL, IN, and OH---is an interesting place. There seems to be more of the small-town mentality of the south, even in cities.

Strangely, as far south as I am, the only place around here to get sweet tea is in bbq restaurants. It's criminal, I tell you! Plus, I have to make my own damn grits.

My people aren't as bad as the Scots, but there isn't a lot they won't deep-fry. I loved fried ravioli growing up. Now that I'm older and my tastes are more sophisticated, I only love the kind made with phyllo instead of pasta.

several of my so-cal LJ friends came out very dixie. you seem to be well versed in liguistics... know anything about the characteristics of so-cal speech?

Also, i was surprise that they didn't include "tonic" as a name for the beverage with bubbles... that was all i ever heard people call it in massachusettes. Coke, 7-up... it was all tonic.

Or, for that matter, "Coke." In Georgia, everything was Coke, whether it actually said "Coca Cola" on the bottle or not.

i've heard that, too! Must be people in georgia either tend to overgeneralize... or they're masters of synechdoche.

It's not just Georgia. As the dialect survey says, "Common throughout southern U.S. and Texas." I've posted before about the Pop vs. Soda page, which was one of the first experiments in online lexicology I ever encountred and still one of the most entertaining. There you'll find your beloved "tonic",

cool... thanks!

Hee. I think the conclusion is dead on: "People who say "Pop" are much, much cooler." But then, I'm biased. *angelic*

That's really interesting, and I'd had vague urges to conduct a similar survey. I hadn't realized that "Coke" usage was so widespread. I worked in Houston for nearly 4 years and never heard it there or anywhere else in TX, LA, AL, or FL as I traveled around during that time period. Then again, I only have one really sharp memory of the phenomenon, when my uncle had taken us out to dinner at an Atlanta area country club when I was in junior high school. When I asked what kind of pop they had, the waitress just gave me a _look_ like I'd said something quite rude, and my uncle had to lean over and quietly informed me of the "Coke" custom so that I could ask again without getting The Look.

Given how focused the survey is on North-South differences, I'm not surprised that it does a bad job on classifying Western speech. Without knowing your friends' exact responses or the scoring mechanism for the quiz, I can only guess as to the answer. I think it's likely that most of their responses were neutral, but enough were correlated with "Southern" to tip the balance. That's what happened to me--I generally chose "common throughout the country" responses, but I still ended up 70% Dixie.

I have a hard time classifying Oklahoma -- you get different perspectives depending upon whom you ask. For instance, a number of people seem to think of "The South" as a region vaguely shaped like the new 36th ward of Texas under DeLay redistricting, encompassing the Carolinas, (maybe Virginia), Alabama, Georgia, Mississippi, (maybe Arkansas), (maybe Tennessee), Louisiana, and Texas, but not Florida. "The Midwest" has similar issues. People feel comfortable calling it one of "The Plains States," but I can't stand that term. Depending upon whom I talk to, I have called Oklahoma Southern, Midwestern, and Southwestern, and can make facile, silly arguments for all of them.

Doesn't matter much of the time -- up here, folks tend to think watching the tumbleweed races is the most exciting thing that would go on in a place called "Norman, Oklahoma."

But I feel a big pride in Oklahoma and consider myself as being from there, despite spending the majority of my life in other places. And, pursuant to your point, I think I tend to wear my Okiehood on my sleeve since moving to Chicago four years ago, and this is reflected in my speech.

There are people who don't count Virginia as part of the south? Dude! How else do they explain the existence of West Virginia?

When I lived in Oklahoma City, I always thought it was right smack on the border between South, West, and Midwest, and partook of all three about equally, culturally speaking. (Basically, I-35 is the border between Midwest and West; I-40 the border between South and Midwest. That line breaks down a little in northeastern Oklahoma, which seems pretty Southern, but Tulsa is a classic Midwestern small city in denial, like Ames or Cedar Rapids or Champaign.)

I don't have any great Oklahoma pride, although I'm glad I grew up there, and it beats the living hell out of the rest of the Great Plains (Kansas City excepted) -- but I like to say that I've been a lifelong Chicago native ever since I moved here in 1988.

Well, the thing with Florida is, who's actually from there? I'd be curious to see what the statistics for native-born versus the influx of retirees comes out to... and a lot of the latter are almost by definition northerners, so it tends to desouthify (if that's a word :) ) the state's overall image in the collective unconscious.

And now you've got me wondering what I do think about Oklahoma. Is the South a place, or a state of mind? For myself I would have to say that OK is only the Midwest in relation to the "real" west, which would make IL the East by comparison. All I know is that my mind can't seem to place those two states into the same geographical bin no matter how I try... I think "Plains" and "Great Lakes" are more useful divisions as to the reality on the, er, ground, but still annoying. (And I would have to say that the underlying problem is really that our "east/midwest/west/south" terminology is in relation to a much earlier east-centric settlement pattern that no longer holds, which is why we're so confused today... hence the irony of having a school called "Northwestern" in a state now two-thirds of the way to the country's east coast. :) )

I took the dialect quiz (it says I'm 55% Dixie), but one of the questions is like, "What do you call it when you throw rolls of toilet paper over a house?"

What kind of a stupid question is that? For that particular question there was no "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard of" response, as if I'm the weird one because I've never heard of anyone doing such a thing.

That test told me I was 53% Dixie, then when I went back and retook it giving the alternate answers for the handful of things I call by more than one name, it told me 55% Dixie! I lived in Omaha for 18 years, and then Chicago for nearly 20, and never in the South, so how could this be? Maybe the influence of black Southern expat culture on the Chicago dialect?

Maybe it's my pernicious influence: I'm 57% Dixie, unless I admit to having heard of drive-through liquor stores, in which case I become 65% Dixie.

I do blame -e for making me being only 53% Dixie. Several words (including 'route') I say both ways now, thanks to her. Damn her beautiful Yankee eyes.

Some words like this, I get confused. How did we say it growing up? "Rout"? I vaguely remember being amused to hear Depeche Mode sing "Root 66".

Well, that's the tricky thing. I remember saying 'rout', but I can't remember if that was for all instances. It could be either DM or -e's fault that I now say 'root' 66 and 'root' 22, but I still say "I'll get there by another 'rout'." I think others have pointed out that pronounciation on a lot of these questions depends on context.

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