Here’s something I meant to tell you when I was writing about the native plant talk. The guy doing the talk, Nathan, was a young guy – probably early 30’s. He had to be from somewhere a bit north of here. Once he was talking about a hock. Some plant that had something to do with a hock. He said it several times. I was thinking “ham hock” but that didn’t make sense to me with what he was talking about. Finally, I said “what’s a hock?” He looked at me a bit strangely and said it again . . . a hock – like . . Lady! Surely you know what a hock is! I’m still thinking . . ham hock . . hock . . maybe it’s an insect I’ve never heard of! Vince looked at me and said HAWK!! I said oh, a hawk . . it sounded like you said hock. Vince said “She’s from Louisiana!”
He said “hock”! I guess he’s never had a smoked ham hock and black eyed peas because when you say hock, that’s what I’m thinking about. When you say hawk, I’m thinking of the bird that wanted to eat my chickens!
I know I’ve told this story before but once a friend and I were at a quilt show in PA. One of her friends from NJ or somewhere with a really northern accent came to meet us. This friend was talking and she had already said something about having a “dok” floor and I thought she said “dot” floor but she had said “dark” floor. Later, she asked our server for a “fork” . . “May I please have a fork“? But . . it didn’t sound like fork to me. I thought . . what did she just ask that guy for? Oh, my . . I about choked. Then, he handed her a fork and I figured laughing wouldn’t be good – she’d think I was making fun of her accent when really, I would only have been laughing at my interpretation of her accent.
It’s a good thing I’ve never lived up north. I’d need an interpreter.