2 Fast But Not 3 Fast

I don’t know if you have ever attempted to impart the English language to someone who is not a native speaker. If so, you soon realize how really difficult our language is. Words that sound alike but have vastly different meanings, words that sound the same but are spelled differently, and so on.

“Yesterday, I read a red sign.”

“Could you read me the story about the reed?”

“You’re responsible for your own money on the trip.”

"The Principal knew it was a new principle."

“The very plain plane landed on the plain.” (You get the drift!)

This doesn’t even account for regional differences which impact discourse.

In Alabama, the rectangular metal plate which is attached to the rear of your vehicle is called a "tag." In Illinois I was rebuffed and told it was a license plate. In the deep south, you have a “sack” of groceries, further north it becomes a “bag.” For the English, a biscuit is a cookie, but it is the bread staple of a meal in Mississippi. And if you fried the biscuits instead of baking them, they were “hoe cakes.” We called a halloween mask a “doughface.” A bottle of pop is a soft drink. Bagasse or blackstrap - the residue from sugar cane in most cultures – Southerners call pummy.

However, in our family, even pummy took on another dimension.

Angelina, or Inie as we fondly called her, was our itinerant relative. She had no real home of her own. She spent time throughout the year with first one and then another family household. She would generally remain in one place for around two months before packing up and heading for a different locale. In every place she frequented, she also left a colorful manner of speaking about everyday things. These eventually wound up into our family language.

For instance, when someone is confused and seemingly making no progress on a task or a decision, we say, “My God child, you are going around the pummy pile.” This colorful description grew out of a time when a Inie was riding in the countryside with Percy and Rosalee Mims. Percy had a brand new touring car and the three of them had headed out to visit Aunt Serepta down in Chilton County. Percy was never good on directions and soon became lost. As my father would say, “he is attempting to course his way.” (This means no stopping for directions – taking intuitive turns in the hope that one would lead the way. And you thought “course” was an academic exercise.)

In “coursing” his way, Percy returned several times to the intersection where Miller’s Cane Mill had been in business since the “big bellum.” After about the third return to the same spot, Inie spoke up. “My God child, here we go ‘round the pummy pile again,” as she spied the dried pile of sugar cane once more.

When someone was taking too much time to complete a task, Inie would say, “My God child, you may hurry.” Much better than “get the lead out,” don’t you think?

“More pedal to the metal?”

“Light a shuck?”

My grandson, when describing his concept of speed relative to his new toy motorcycle said, “it goes 2 fast but not 3.”