What would you like to drink?

I've known this for a long time and it was definitely one of the many (though minor) cultural differences I noticed coming to Maine. But here's a picture of what we all know is true. This is more interesting than if you're a blue state or a red state. So I grew up in a turquoise state and moved to a green state.

This was shared by my goddaughter who was born in Texas (turquoise), grew up in New York (green), and is going to college in Michigan (black).

She shared the graphic from http://cdn.iwastesomuchtime.com/2142013091631.jpg I do not know the original source.

Heavens to Betsy, we have pert near lost these colorful phrases!

This is one of those emails that's forwarded all around the world. They have a great point and have wonderful examples of words I don't use much anymore and hadn't taken the time to notice that they had slipped from my vocabulary. A friend sent it to me because it specifically references some Texas phrases. One of the great things about Maine is they not only cherish their local phrases, they use them on a regular basis.

I just learned a new one: "number than a pounded thumb." I heard it from one of my graduate students and have asked others about it. Oh yes! They know that phrase well and claim it's still in use today in Maine. Meanwhile, here's the narrative about colorful phrases that are going by the wayside.

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The Merriam-Webster folks grabbed a lot of attention recently with the
announcement of new words being added to the dictionary.

They included such essential terms as "webinar" (an online seminar) and
"pescatarian" (a vegetarian who eats fish).

I'll let others celebrate the new words. I mourn the colorful old words
and phrases that are slowly passing from our language.

Nobody sends out news releases to trumpet that process. It just
happens. And one day there is no one left to say "nigh on to."

We're nigh on to that being the case right now.

Television has more and more people speaking with neutral Midwestern
accents. And now it seems we're all headed toward a bland, neutral
vocabulary, too.

It's been ages since I heard anyone say "nigh on to," much less "pert
near."

People nowadays just say "nearly." And that's so boring.

I'm troubled by our stunted vocabulary to describe something you don't
know the name of. Young people now just call it a "thing" or a "deal."

Their grandparents had such a richer vocabulary. A "whatchamacallit"
was just the start of it.

It might also be a "doodad," "dealybob," "doojigger" or "doohickey."

Or it could be a "thingamabob," which is closely related to a
"thingamajig."

Old-time hardware stores could always help you find the doohickey you
needed to attach to that thingamabob under the sink.

Just try doing that at Lowe's or Home Depot.

I'd like to see fur pieces come back into vogue, no matter what PETA
says. (Is it a fur piece into town? Pert near an all-day trip.)

We should resurrect "right smart," too. It has nothing to do with
intelligence. It's a useful measure of quantity -- more than
"picayunish" but not quite "boocoos."

We could use a right smart rain.

I realize that living in Dallas makes things look worse. Words that
have gone extinct here are still kicking out in the countryside.

Over in my native East Texas, people still use words like "dreckly."
That's because they don't want to lie to you.

In Dallas, the cable guy says "I'll be there between 2 and 4" and may
not show up at all. In East Texas, the plumber says "I'll get by there
dreckly" and you know he'll show up sooner or later.

I'm worried about the decline of mild oaths and exclamations. Plain old
cuss words seem to have just about driven them out.

My hometown newspaper carried a story the other day about a country
fellow hauling a load of dirt near Tyler.

One of his wheels caught fire, then the whole trailer.

The paper quoted him as saying: "I looked out the window and saw the
flames and thought 'Heavens to Betsy.' "

It's a good man who sees a burning trailer behind him and exclaims
"Heavens to Betsy."

Likewise with anyone who utters "Land o' Goshen," "Saints alive!" or
"Lorda mercy."

My grandmother's favorite exclamation was "law" -- drawn out to about
three syllables. (How was the food, Nana? Laaaaaw, it wasn't fit to
eat.)

I particularly grieve for the loss of one poetic old usage. Old-timers
would talk about doing something "of a mornin' " or "of an evenin' "
(I'll stop by there of a mornin' and we'll visit a spell.)

We're losing a little of the music to our language. And somehow gaining
"pescatarian" doesn't make up for losing "tarnation."

Saturday, 8/11/07: Adventure #2--Flint Woods

From our local hideaway, we headed to our second adventure, Flint Woods. It was a flat hike through some piney woods. The dogs really enjoyed this one. At the summit, there were 2 lawn chairs sitting there in just the right place to enjoy the view. MRM said they're there year round. They were in really good shape. How cool that no one had damaged them or removed them. I would have loved to have seen the person/people hiking in carrying those chairs.

I took a picture of the "kindle no fires" sign because it cracks me up. Why not just say, "No fires"? It took a long time for me to even understand what was being said after I saw one of these the first time when I was snowshoeing. We so rarely use the word "kindle" as a verb in Texas.

It's cape.

Here's another expression I've heard. The first two times I heard it, I had no idea what anyone was talking about. By the third time, I just asked. Each time someone said, "It's cape," we were talking about houses. One time someone was talking about different houses that were for sale and they described one as cape. Another time, someone was telling where an acquaintance lived and the directions were, "You go down the hill, past the red house that's cape, and it's at the top of the next hill."

Give up?

Cape Cod. They take the perfectly good descriptor, "It's a Cape Cod style house" and shorten it to "It's cape." I guess it should be with a capital "C" ?

April 6, 2007: Is it tar?

I'm spending Easter weekend at Old Orchard Beach with my team teaching colleague. We're putting together a proposal and decided that it was better to just give up one whole day than to try and pound it out one hour a week every week for many weeks. Last weekend was gorgeous spring weather here at Old Orchard Beach but this weekend, there's snow on the beach and we're wearing long coats. But it's still fun and since we're spending most of the time working inside on computers with the wireless internet access, it really doesn't matter.

So Friday night we're driving the 2 hour trip from Farmington to Old Orchard Beach (which is south of Portland) and my colleague is telling me about the choices she's making and why on our route. Outside of Jay, she says, "If possible, we're going to take Crash Road. If it's tar, we'll take it."

If it's tar? Is that like steak tar tar? No, that means if you can see the tar (i.e., the asphalt), then the coast is clear to take it because it's been plowed. Apparently Crash Road is actually the name of the road but it's also what everyone calls that road.

BTW, the road was tar and we did take it and arrived safely in Old Orchard Beach before sunset.

LL Bean's sole returns to Maine: February 8, 2007

check out this article from the Morning Sentinel. I love it on two counts: 1. What a great boon to the Maine economy and a great decision by LL Bean. 2. Check out the use of "from away". They really do use that phrase around here. :-) It's in the newspaper, so it must be true!

By TREVOR MAXWELL

Blethen Maine Newspapers

Ever since Leon Leonwood Bean hired a factory in Boston to make rubber soles, outsourcing has been the little secret of the legendary Maine Hunting Shoe.

For most of the past century, the soles of L.L. Bean's boots were -- as a native might put it -- from away.

Except for a short stint in Lewiston, the soles were manufactured in Massachusetts, Wisconsin, and most recently in Arkansas. They are shipped to the Bean factory in Brunswick, to be joined with the leather upper of the famous boots.

Later this year, though, the entire process will return to Maine.

L.L. Bean is spending about $1 million on equipment to make the rubber soles, and the company expects to sign a lease soon for manufacturing space in southern Maine. When the new shop becomes operational this fall, it will employ eight or 10 shoemakers, producing thousands of soles for several Bean boot designs.

The decision runs counter to the trend of manufacturing moving out of Maine. "It is a huge statement on their part to do something like this," said Tom Yake, a retail analyst from Kennebunk. "They could have left it in a number of other states, or even taken it offshore."

Because L.L. Bean is a private company, it has more leeway to make decisions that might not look good from an immediate financial standpoint, but could have benefits down the road, Yake said. He said the change is smart marketing from a social perspective.

"Companies that have such folklore and tradition, they need to do everything they can to maintain that image," Yake said. "This may also relate to some underlying psychology that they want to get back to the basics."

Company officials said the change is a small bright spot in Maine manufacturing, a sector that shed more than 10,000 jobs between 2001 and 2005, according to the U.S. Department of Labor.

Having the rubber sole shop in Maine will give Bean a higher level of quality control than it has over the contract operation in Arkansas, said Carolyn Beem, manager of public affairs.

The move is also definitely about pride, Beem said. L.L. Bean ranks high on the short list of images and brands associated with Maine -- think lobster, Poland Spring and Portland Head Light -- and the Bean boot is still the company's best-known commodity.

"It means a lot to us," to make the boots in Maine, Beem said. "It is a signature product for us, so we have always been protective of the quality. It has also become a signature product for the state."

Company chairman Leon Gorman, president Chris McCormick and other top officials made the decision in November to manufacture the soles in Maine, Beem said. That news was shared with employees a few weeks ago.

"They are extremely excited," said Jack Samson, who heads up Bean's manufacturing division at Brunswick. "The fact that the soles are going to be made by L.L. Bean employees, that is the best part. To see jobs come back to Maine, to see a heritage product like this come back, is incredible."

Samson and others within the manufacturing division proposed the changes several months ago.

"We just felt it was the right thing for us, from the standpoint of quality, and keeping the brand and the boot here in Maine," Samson said. "It is great to see it come home."

The company is still trying to find the right location for the new shop, Samson said. He hopes to lease space near Brunswick, so the two components of boot construction will be close to one another.

Smaller pieces of the boot, such as the laces and eyelets, are purchased from firms in California and Rhode Island. Bean employs about 400 people in its manufacturing division, and about 3,800 year-round employees overall.

L.L. Bean markets 24 styles of Bean boot on its Web site, ranging in price from $59 for the low-cut rubber mocs, to $159 for the 10-inch insulated hunting boots.

There have been a handful of technological changes to the classic Bean boot over the years, including a new leather coating and steel shank added in 1999. But the basic design remains as it was in 1912, when L.L. Bean made the first pairs in the basement of his brother's apparel shop.

Company lore has it that Bean sold 100 pairs of boots that first year, with his personal guarantee. Ninety pairs were returned after the soles separated from the leather uppers.

The story goes that Bean refunded the purchases, corrected the problem and borrowed more money to make more boots. He contracted with a factory outside of Boston that could produce high quality rubber soles at a reasonable price, Beem said. The return of those 90 boots set the foundation of a liberal returns policy that remains a hallmark of the company.

For competitive reasons, Beem would not say how many pairs of Bean boots are produced or sold annually. She also would not name the contracting firm in Arkansas, or discuss how the relocation to the Maine shop will affect the company's finances.

"Sales are significant enough for us to make this investment," she said.

spelling lesson

One of my students pointed out that the Lewiston hockey team spells their name Maineiacs. Perhaps my blog name is misspelled. I wonder if there is a "right" spelling.

short musing.

How Do You Spell That?

January 13, 2007
Today at Radio Shack, they were out of indoor outdoor thermometers, so the guy sent me to Obershon Hardware down by the Dunkin' Donuts. I got there only to find out it was Aubuchon Hardware. A homophone is a word that is pronounced the same as another word but has a different meaning and is often spelled differently (e.g., hair/hair, bat the wooden stick/bat the mammal that hangs upside down in caves). Then there are equivocal words that are spelled the same, have two pronunciations and two meanings (e.g., address the noun and address the verb). But wait, this is two spellings for the same word with the same meaning. I wonder what you call that?

I'm expecting many more entries in this blog category. :-)

I did find an interesting resource on the topic of homophone/homonym, etc. The author doesn't address my situation, but for my lexophile friends, you'll love this:

http://www.scs.fsu.edu/~burkardt/fun/wordplay/equivocal_words.html