It Ain't Just Regionalism. It's Family.

Confession time. I love 'ain't'. Not because I aspire to be some grammatical rebel. It's because the word connects me to people no longer in this world, and to a place I no longer belong. I did once. Belong.

It was the first place my sister and I were accepted and adored, sight unseen, by my mother's parents. Naturally, when we finally got to meet our maternal grandparents, my poor folks couldn't say 'boo' to us without getting chewed out by Grandma and Grandpa.

"You leave those kids alone! They ain't hurtin' nothing!"

I'd never walked on water in anyone's sight before then. I'd never been adored merely because I existed before that point. Sure, my parents loved me and I knew (and still know) that much - but parents are investing all this energy in turning you into a civilized human being, you know? When you're five or six years old, that feels like a lot of strings attached. Grandparents get the corner on unconditional (and occasionally parent-undermining) love.

Mom's family is a clan of Scottish and Irish farmers, few of whom ever had a penny to their names. We know when the family came to the US because there's a headline in a pre-Civil War newspaper: Three Brothers Wed Three Brothers. The three brothers came over from Scotland and ended up marrying three sisters whose last name was Brothers.  They scattered across the south. Mom's branch of the family landed in the Ozark region.

My grandfather had a sixth grade education. My grandmother had considerably more - she'd come from a family with a little bit of money, but she gave up the money and her education to invest in her new husband's love of farming.

My sister and I reaped the benefits. We had a 400 acre farm to explore. Cows to milk, calves to help find. Watermelons to fetch from the garden patch so we could sit in the shade of the pecan tree dodging wasps while we ate sun-warm melon. I learned to pick okra. "Wear gloves and long sleeves! The prickles'll get you if you don't and the rash ain't no fun." We learned to watch the summer sky for signs of tornados and knew to run to the ditch if one came. "Don't worry about the water moccasins," Grandpa would say. "If there's a twister coming, they ain't gonna care about you. Watch out fer the cows, though. They won't care about you neither after they step on you."

Grandma died in 1980 just a few months after her 50th wedding anniversary. My grandfather died several years later.

I wish I had digital photos of either of my grandparents. Or of the house Grandpa built. Or of the barn. I don't. All I have are the pictures in my head and in a box in Mom's hall closet.

The farm has been divvied up. I'm told the house fell in on itself. No surprise. Without my grandparents, it had no heart or soul to prop it up. Even the pecan tree died.

But you know. Whenever I hear 'ain't', I hear my grandparents' voices.

Is You Is or Is You Ain't My Baby

by Allison Pang

Ain't ain't a word.

I'm sure most of us have been hit about the face and chest with that particular phrase since we were in grade school. And I supposed technically it isn't - but for a word that isn't a word, it's sure been around for a really long time.

And actually, as was pointed out earlier by James this week - there's a difference between writing grammatically perfect English...and writing how people actually talk. There was actually a lively discussion on one of the mailing lists I belong to last week about copyeditors and how sometimes they can be rather insistent on "fixing" dialogue - when it doesn't really need to be fixed.

On the other hand, saying you saw it written that way in a book before doesn't always get you any bonus points either. When I was in 1st grade I got yelled at for spelling "because" as "cuz" (or "coz"  - I can't remember now) - which yes, is horrifying, but I'd been reading the really old Raggedy Ann and Andy stories, and that's how the characters spoke. So I figured it was just fine for me to do the same, 'cuz I was six.

Alas. The teacher did not see it that way.
As a result, I've got this thing about being told that words aren't *really* words - because you only have to look at the words that are added to the dictionary each year to realize that sometimes it's not about grammatical perfection so much as the usage. (The vulgar tongue, as it were - I highly suggest picking up a copy of The 1811 Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue, btw - it's always fun to see how much (and how little) word usage has changed throughout the years.)

This year bitcoin, squee and twerk were added to the Oxford online dictionary, among others. I've been using squee for almost 8 years now in various conversation, but now it's legit. Who knew? Hell, yesterday I had a BYOD meeting at work (Bring Your Own Device) - and that's in the dictionary now too.

So the world spins and language changes. As it should.

You'll notice I didn't really talk that much about ain't - because quite frankly, when I see ain't, my 12 year old self jumps straight to 'taint and everything pretty much goes straight to hell from there. I didn't want to write a blog post about the 'taint. *cough*

Say It Ain't So: There's Snow

Say it ain't so
There's snow, more snow
It started as rain
And then became snane

Gusting slushy drapes
morphed into
Drifting puffy flakes

They say there'll be more
Inches four plus four

I ought to locate the blower
Long before the day is over

But the fire is warm
And the Toddy is hot
Perhaps I'll clear the drive today
Perhaps, but likely not

How Can I Be What I Ain't?

David asked me for some "blue-sky" panorama shots for his Catalina Acupuncture website, so I thought I'd share one here. Such amazing skies we have here. (That's from our front porch, with the corner of our house to the right.)


This week you all get treated to one of my oldest earworms, the song that starts playing in my brain when I encounter the Word-Whore Word of the Week: Ain't.

The song? "I Caint Say No" from the ground-breaking musical, Oklahoma!


Yes, it's a funny song.

But it's more than a playfully clever romp through words that rhyme with "ain't" - caint, quaint, faint, restraint.

Ado Annie is explaining to her friend, Laurey, (played by a very young Shirley Jones there, tagline: More Than Mrs. Partridge! (In an interesting parallel, the same role was played by Florence Henderson on Broadway, better known later as Mrs. Brady. Hmm...)) about the interest men have in her "since she filled out." More, she's saying how much she likes sex.

Yes. She's the original slut. Cheerful and unrepentant about it.

When I watched this show as a young girl when it was first televised - the movie released in 1955, but I was born in 1966 and who knows when I watched it. Maybe around 10? - this scene electrified me. Ado Annie was the first female character that put into words the warm, excited feelings I already had around the idea of sex. Yes! I remember thinking, I would be saying "come on, let's go" also!

The other remarkable thing about this scene is, while it wouldn't pass the Bechdel Test, because they're technically talking about a man, it did feature two women discussing SEX. Ado Annie asks the profound question: "How can I be what I ain't?" So, in many ways, they're actually discussing the social constraints that require them to be good girls ("when a person tries to kiss a girl, I know she oughta give his face a smack") and thwart their very natural desires ("I somehow, sorta wanna kiss him back").

It's meant to be a happy song, so Laurey smiles and laughs - but I love that she's not judging her friend. She feels much the same way. This is sex and romance discussed the way I like it - with a sense of burgeoning possibility and fun.

I caint say no!

Warm Fuzzy Words

There's a quote that makes me giggle.

"The problem with defending the purity of the English language is that the English language is as pure as a crib-house whore. It not only borrows words from other languages; it has on occasion chased other languages down dark alley-ways, clubbed them unconscious and rifled their pockets for new vocabulary."
—James Nicoll, can.general, March 21, 1992

Thus it is that there's little point in wasting energy on loving or hating anything about words. The language is alive and changing on a daily basis. However, under duress (and with a deadline looming) I'll confess to a few mild preferences.

Words that give me warm fuzzies:
Words that aren't words.
Ain't - Not a true word, but it's so expressive and regional, it's a fine tool when applied judiciously.

Words that annoy others.
Whom - I not only like 'whom', I know when and how it ought to be used. It may be archaic, but damn it, I learned it. You can pry my 'with whom?' out of my cold dead hands. Along with my ale flagon. Related? Farther. It is still a word and it doesn't mean the same thing as further. People saying further when farther is what's meant - well, that belongs down in my 'nails on a chalkboard' list.

I'm currently enamored of a group of words from a class I'm taking:
Systems - you build these
Experiment - then you test your systems
Action - what your systems drive you to
Bonus word - Contingency - that which you have in plan in case your experiments prove your system doesn't work
(I like these words, because at the moment, these words and this class seem to be doing the job I hoped they would...)

Words that are nails on my personal chalkboard:
Words that aren't words. Never mind what I said above. There are few words that aren't words that WORK. Most don't. One of the words that drives me to the brink of murderous rage: Irregardless - doesn't exist. You mean regardless. Don't make me break out the pitchfork and torch.

Words that aren't used correctly - Inflammable. This word doesn't mean what lots of people think it means. It means easily burned - easy to light afire. My gnomish fire mage would be happy to prove your socks are inflammable.

My least favorite words ever? Words that take away.
Cancer
Bury
Goodbye