At 3:05am, February 3, 1973, my mother pushed 7lbs 12 1/2 ounces of baby through her loins. Yes, the baby was me, smushy and all. Also, note the red hair-the pink bow was cropped for some reason when I scanned the picture, I’d say the nurses added it, because, let’s face it, I look boy-ish. And pissed. I entered the world with a hell of an attitude.
I am officially over the hill. I consider hitting 36 the first step. When you go to Walmart and walk out with zit cream, for a pimple the size of a small dog that decided to pop up out of the blue and eye cream to keep puffiness and fine lines to a minimum on your birthday, you realize-Holy Mother of God my priorities have changed. I used to head straight to the toy section. Today, I debated-should I buy the Preparation-H a friend recommended for the zit and be prepared for both ends of my body, or, be daring and say screw it, I’ve never had hemorrhoids, it’s just a zit and it will go away. If I do get the ‘roids, I’ll use the zit cream. I don’t think my ass would mind.
Oh, remember my gift last year? The cookware set which excited me- uh-huh, that’s right, I received a new quilt and sheets this year. I tinkled from the excitement. No, really, I did. Which reminds me, perhaps I should have browsed the adult diaper section.
Laugh if you must, but I loved the Muppet’s special with John Denver when I was little. To this day, I own the vinyl album and the CD. I can remember, sitting at the huge, wooden stereo my grandmother gave us and singing the songs over and over, right up to Christmas Eve. One of my greatest childhood memories.
Whether you believe in Christmas, or not, the song says so much about mankind and the magic the Holidays seems to bring out in us. Instead of being my normal, sarcastic self this year, I decided to share the song I loved the most during my formative years. The story of Alfie The Christmas Tree, “It’s in Every One of Us,” sung by John Denver and Kermit the Frog. Merry Christmas, all.
Poem and Lyrics:
Did you ever hear the story of the Christmas Tree
who just didn’t want to change the show
He liked living in the woods and playing with squirrels, he liked icicles and snow.
He liked wolves and eagles and grizzly bears
and critters and creatures that crawled.
Why bugs were some of his very best friends, spiders and ants and all.
Now that’s not to say that he ever looked down on the vision of twinkling lights,
or on mirrored bubbles and peppermint canes and a thousand other delights.
And he often had dreams of tiny reindeer
and a jolly old man and a sleigh full of toys and presents and wonderful things,
and the story of Christmas Day.
Oh, Alfie believed in Christmas all right, he was full of Christmas cheer.
All of each and every day and all throughout the year.
To him it was more than a special time much more than a special day,
It was more than a beautiful story. it was a special kind of way.
You see, some folks have never heard a jingle bell ring,
And they’ve never heard of Santa Claus.
They’ve never heard the story of the Son of God. And that made Alfie pause.
Did that mean that they’d never know of peace on earth
or the brotherhood of man?
Or know how to love, or know how to give? If they can’t, no one can.
You see, life is a very special kind of thing, not just for a chosen few.
But for each and every living breathing thing. Not just me and you.
So in your Christmas prayers this year, Alfie asked me if I’d ask you
to say a prayer for the wind, and the water, and the wood,
and those who live there, too.
It’s in every one of us to be wise. Find your heart, open up both your eyes.
We can all know everything without ever knowing why.
It’s in every one of us, by and by.
It’s in every one of us to be wise. Find your heart, open up both your eyes.
We can all know everything without ever knowing why.
It’s in every one of us, by and by, by and by.
See the breathtaking picture on the left? I have a view of the Appalachian Mountains every day. The topic I am going to discuss is a first for me on this blog. Yes, I make fun of rednecks and “inbreds,” but- I know the stereotyped image of us isn’t what one may think. I have always been extremely proud to be born and raised in West Virginia and fascinated by the history the state holds within its borders. The title of the post is only the beginning.
When I started chatting online 12 years ago, I was dumbfounded by the number of people who did not realize West Virginia, is in fact, a state. People would ask, “What part of Virginia are you from?” Or, “How far are you from Virginia Beach?” I, of course would give a snarky response and give a little history lesson- June 20, 1863, West Virginia became a state. No-really, look it up on a map. Better yet, Google Earth. We’re here and we aren’t the backwards, uneducated hillbillies the media-including Hollywood, has made us out to be.
West Virginia, with the rugged mountains, was settled mostly by the Scotch-Irish, with a little German and Welsh in the mix. Once here, the people were so secluded because of the terrain, they either never left, or others never came in, hence, the reason the state has such a unique blend of dialects. No outside influence on language for generations-and guess what? The phrase, “I speak more better than you,” is not incorrect. Sure, English professors will dispute this, but our way of speaking, the words, the phrases, the pronunciations, is archaic- it’s Elizabethan English.
To quote from a site I found via my research, (the reason I even researched was due to the fact my mom and I were cracking up at the way we said certain words and phrases):
Almost all the so-called “bad English” used by natives of Appalachia was once employed by the highest ranking nobles of the realms of England and Scotland.
(ref: Dialect of the Appalachian People
Wow- so let me get this straight. In today’s society we’re ignorant if we use “improper grammar,” but during one point in history our “speak,” was accepted. For example, the phrase my mom and I were laughing about was, “I know what let’s do.” I said this once to a friend of mine living in Connecticut. He looked at me and said, “What did you just say?” I knew very well what I meant-”I know what we can do.” Another phrase used often, “I don’t care to,” (as mentioned in my source), to a “foreigner,” sounds as if we don’t want to do something they have asked, when we really mean, “Yes, I’ll do it.” I used to laugh at my dad for saying “deeshes,” instead of “dishes,” technically, he wasn’t incorrect. If anyone has ever traveled the state, or lived here for any period of time, you would notice our accents aren’t Southern, nor Northern- it’s a mixture of both. I like to call it “Mountain.” Dependent upon the word and context in which it’s said, you’ll hear variations. I wanted to actually record this post so the differences in my speech patterns could be heard, but my microphone isn’t working. Our dialects are probably the most difficult to master if you’re an outsider- I have yet to hear anyone “speak,” a true West Virginian accent. I’m just proud of the fact that I can finally say-I do speak more better than any of ya, whether you like it ‘er not.
Most would not consider what I am about to write an issue, however, I discovered I may need some type of psychoanalyst intervention. I do not like having any type of condiment, be it ketchup, mustard, mayo, even butter, to touch my fingers. If I so happen to get a “dab”- I cannot lick it off. No, really, I can’t. I will either wash my finger, use a napkin and in severe cases, my clothing. The thought of licking something from one of my fingers sickens me- and the silly thing? I know I’m clean. I bathe daily, contrary to popular belief that hillbillies/rednecks have one bath a week. Take for instance, this evening. Taco Bell+Zesty Chicken Bowl+ (without the shredded lettuce-another issue I’ll discuss with my shrink when everyone recommends one to me), hot sauce=omg I got it on my finger and they didn’t give me napkins. It was raining, so, I stuck my finger out the window. So, tell me people, do I need an intervention, or is this perfectly normal? Do any of you lick things off your fingers? And for goodness sakes, keep it clean. I have a reputation to maintain. Innuendo is acceptable.
