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From: margaret calvano <>
Subject: Re: [LDR] Thank you to Becky M
Date: Thu, 9 Jul 2009 14:56:48 -0400
References: <BAY114-W96EEB5E2E5777709A59518D2B0@phx.gbl><612283B3CBA64AF8A38CB8644C8BF9F2@KearneyHome2008><07BFD5A0070A4ED8AE77E0D11CA3B902@Sylvia><84146A05-66B8-497A-9917-9BF7A9F26252@shaw.ca><42394.43576.qm@web56604.mail.re3.yahoo.com> <6681B67654D14066983D4C14ECBDE6DF@GwenPC>
In-Reply-To: <6681B67654D14066983D4C14ECBDE6DF@GwenPC>


Becky,

Your story brightened my day! I, too, often recall with fondness the old patterns of speech used on the Eastern Shore. My father was born and raised there; then, as a young man, left for work in Baltimore during the Great Depression. But, he brought his wife and kids “down home” often to visit with grandparents and other of our many relatives. After spending summer vacations on the farms, it wasn’t surprising that I returned to Baltimore with a sprinkling of “thar”s, “arster”s, and “mong you”s in my speech.

One incident involving the peculiarities of the language always brings a chuckle… Grandpa decided to take some of us kids for a stroll and we found ourselves along the docks in Cambridge. In those days, in the 1940s, some parts of the waterfront was just mud, and sludge, and whatever. When we returned my Aunt was aghast by the sight of our shoes and legs covered with a tar-like goo. She guessed that lard was the only thing that would remove the tar. Instantly, my cousin dropped to his knees, clasped his hands in front of him, and with eyes towards heaven pleaded “Oh, Lard, please take this tar off of our shoes!” Needless to say, it took more than one prayer to do the job.

Marge

Researching: Short, Dunn, Mooney, Moore, and others


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> From:
> To:
> Date: Thu, 9 Jul 2009 12:06:21 -0500
> Subject: Re: [LDR] Thank you to Becky M
>
> What a treat to read your post. It brought back memories of my grandparents
> and all the old time country people who had their unique way of speaking.
>
> My grandmother had a rooster that hated me alone out of all the children who
> visited her farm. I would have been happy for him to provide Sunday dinner.
> However, I would not have eaten him for fear who would have found some way
> to attack me even in death.
>
> Gwen
>
> ----- Original Message -----
> From: "Miller's Choice" <>
> To: <>
> Sent: Wednesday, July 08, 2009 12:50 PM
> Subject: Re: [LDR] Origin of Given Name
>
>
> <an enunciation and spelling problem.>
>
> I tend to agree with Jon. As an eastern shoreman who still recalls the old
> way of speaking, I can see where this may be true. My second
> greatgrandmother's name was Ursula (1835-1919) and my spouse's
> greatgrandmother was also named Ursula (b. 1879). Both names were pronounced
> Are Sue Lah. The latter Ursula was known as Miss Sulie. My mother (b. 1913)
> was originally named Ursula but baptized by another name and was so glad she
> didn't have that "awful name". Much later, when teaching in Baltimore,
> hearing the name pronounced correctly, she thought it was a lovely name and
> wished her parents had remained with the original selection.
>
> My maternal grandmother's speech was peppered with mispronunciations and
> quaint expressions such as "crick" for creek, "dreen" for drain (referring
> to what we now call a gut which is an offshoot of a river or crick and, my
> favorite, "it's a fur [far] piece", meaning a long way to travel.
> Notwithstanding this uneducated (she could read and write) manner of
> speaking, grandmother knew all the weather signs, every tree and plant and
> their uses, could milk a cow, pluck fowl, skin animals, utilize all the pig
> except for the oink, make soap, churn butter, make dresses from flour sacks,
> dye plain flour sacks from plant juices, weave baskets, etc. I still recall
> all the trees by their leaves, bark and fruit plus many plants but
> unfortunately do not remember the medicinal uses nor can I now distinguish a
> mushroom from a toadstool. I wish I had been reared to be as self-sufficient
> as she, thinking her survival skills were much better than mine will
> ever be.
>
> Despite my regret concerning lack of survival skills, I must confess I am
> too soft-hearted/citified to want to be on a first name basis with my food.
> My mother would not eat chicken because one time when she was home from the
> city, just after eating an enjoyable Sunday dinner, mother mentioned she
> hadn't seen Henny in the yard. Grandmother quite matter of factly replied
> that Henny had been their dinner. Henny had stopped laying eggs so
> grandmother stewed her up in a wine mixture (homemade from farm-grown
> grapes). In today's cuisine parlance, Henny became coq au vin. I think I
> would feel the same way as mother.
>
> Becky M
>
>
>
>
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