American Southern Customs and Language

What in the Sam Hill are you doing?
David Carroll March 27, 2016 4 Comments on What in the Sam Hill are you doing?

As you may know, I grew up on Sand Mountain, in Bryant, Alabama. I’m quite proud of it. It’s true, my little community had only one school, one restaurant, and no traffic lights. We once grew a lot of cotton, then flowers, and of course potatoes. Wait. I mean taters.

Growing up in my parents’ store, I managed to avoid getting my hands dirty diggin’ taters. I was busy pumping gas or running the cash register. That’s where I met some real characters whose Southern-fried words are embedded in my memory.

Recently, I saw the musical “Million Dollar Quartet,” which depicts the early days of Sun Records, with actors portraying Elvis, Johnny Cash and Jerry Lee. At one point, one of the actors shakes his head and says, “Lordy mercy!” My Pennsylvania-born wife looked at me and said, “Where did that come from?” I told her, “That’s from MY neck of the woods.”

Minnie Pearl, who spent some time on Sand Mountain in 1936, said she got a lot of her sayings from a local family. When I hear Minnie say “She looks like she’s been rid hard and put up wet,” I know where that came from.

(Speaking of Minnie, she referred to her brother as “Brother,” like a lot of us did. Best line: “When Brother tells you howdy, he’s told you everything he knows!”)

I used to hear people in the store say, “Can you put this in a poke so I can tote it home?” No wonder there are still stores in the South called “Tote-a-Poke.” It makes sense to me, but I’ll bet a lot of people under 30 have no idea.

We sold Tide and Ivory Liquid, but we called them “washing powder” and “dish soap.” Unlike the crowded dairy cases of today, we sold two kinds of milk: sweet milk and buttermilk. That seemed like a pretty clear choice at the time.

Many of the ladies would wait until 3:00 to come to the store. By then, the soap operas were over. Or as they called them, “my stories.”

I knew some older gentlemen who never said, “thank you.” Instead, they would say, “much obliged,” although it would sound more like “much-a-blodged” to me.

I was probably 12 years old before I knew that “directly” was that word I’d hear people say when they were telling someone they would arrive soon. It sounded to me like, “I’ll be over there dreckly!”

I knew a few old-timers whose primary occupation was “piddlin.” They would piddle in the morning, and piddle in the evening. They never seemed to get anything done, which I later learned is the very definition of piddlin. I have since become quite the piddler myself.

Ask those piddlers how they were doing, and everything was “hunky dory.” That meant all was well. Especially since they weren’t working hard. They were hardly workin’. In fact, some of them were “loaferin.” If they got in trouble, the “Po-leece” would come, “si-reens” blaring!

I never knew anyone named John Brown or Sam Hill, but I heard about them every day. Anyone who would express amazement at something would shout, “Well I’ll be John Brown!” I never heard what the real John Brown thought about that. When they weren’t talking about him, they’d say, “Well, I’ll Swanee!” Somehow, I knew what they meant. And if I had ever met Sam Hill, I’d have to ask him why in the Sam Hill everybody used his name?

Cussing with real cuss words wasn’t as popular as it is now, so I heard a lot of words that were the cleaned-up version. Shoot-far! Dad-blame it! My foot! I de-clare! What in tarnation is that?

I never had lunch at home. That was only at school. At home, it was dinner. When it got dark, we had supper. It was breakfast, dinner, and supper. If you were lucky enough to eat out in Trenton or South Pittsburg, you were living high on the hog.

Nowadays, we think a lot. Back then we reckoned. Reckon he’ll be okay? I reckon he will.

That guy who refused to any work? He was “no count.” In fact, he was “Pure-D old lazy.”

If you got lost, you asked for directions. Your destination was usually “over yonder a ways,” just past the holler. Nobody from my parents’ generation had ever dated, but they sure went courtin’ a lot.

When a child didn’t get her way, she would pitch a hissy fit, bless her heart.

If a little boy sneezed, his Mama would say, “Scat there!” That always helped shoo away the sneeze.

All these wonderful words and phrases, and the folks who uttered them, are “kindly” (kind of) fading away. Maybe you can help me keep them alive, by handing this down to your grand-young’uns.