How To Speak Hick, Part Two

26 thoughts on “How To Speak Hick, Part Two”

  1. I needed this today. Over the weekend I had my alma mater insulted (won’t mention the school, let’s just say I’m very familiar with the Hokey Pokey) by calling it a “hillbilly school”. I was speechless because 1) I don’t remember a single class teaching me “hillbilly” 2) there were more students from big cities than there were from the hills and 3) what’s wrong with being a hillbilly?
    Then the speaker tried to say that the engineering school (my major) at my school’s major rival (lots of high falutin’ people at that one) was MUCH better than my alma mater’s.
    Then it was on.
    Lesson learned (and the speaker is older than my 51 so he should have known better) – don’t assume that just because someone wears a business suit and has a full set of teeth that they aren’t from the hills and don’t insult mountain folk unless you want a fight that you are bound to lose.

  2. Love your story. Unfortunately I have some of them there high faluent better than you people in my bushel basket too. Always lookin’ down on us, thinkin’ they’re better then you just because they talk different and moved away from these mountains. Well let me tell you, they’re the uneducated ones. We are blessed here in these mountains to have maintained the purest form of Old English speech left on earth. Not to mention that our rituals date back centuries not some new high and mighty way of doin’ things. Some people pay big bucks to buy some ol’ antique but here in these mountains we value a more important antinque, a forgotten way of life. I for one am proud to be a caretaker of our heritage.

  3. lots of these sayings came from England and Ireland. grew up hearing all of them from up cabin creek. keep the story’s coming, love ’em

  4. My Mama’s name was Marjean and this brought back a lot of memories. She had some sayings that I wish I knew where they came from, like “it was faster than a stripe-ed assed ape.”

  5. Wonderful I could here my Nanny in your stories ! She was born and raised in Clarksburg WVa and she raised me!
    Thank you 😂

  6. I live I the heart of Matney,NC. Your stories tell the story of my home so well that you could be my neighbor. I read them over and over, finding myself and my peeps in them each time. Thank you for representing us so well!

  7. This is a great story….Hearing about your snooty cousin made me laugh out loud. And I love casseroles and meringue pies! Like you say, they are “meals fit for mountain royalty”…. And we that live in the Appalachians know that that’s exactly what we are!!! 😉

  8. Love your writing and must share that this desert granny has a Very Superior Cousin who lives to criticize everyone else. Like yours, mine is a pain in the tush!

  9. Love your stories! I want you to check out my wordpress blog and my website greatsoutherngothic.yolasite.com. I think you will like them. 🙂

  10. Gosh just change a few things and you will have my Aunt! Telling everyone we were Spaniards not Cubans because she thought it gave her airs.. Yet anyone who knew better could tell we all speak with a Cuban accent !!! Keep keeping it real!!!

    Sent from my iPad

    >

  11. So funny! I’ve heard that same expression before! Someone would ask where someone went and sometimes the answer would be, “I don’t know, maybe he (or she) went to shit, and the the hogs ate them”!!

  12. Unfortunately, I speak standard English, despite my last name (“Hicks”), but I love your stories, and go out of my way to pie premade pie crust made with lard. It is delish! My daughter and I once got into shoving match as we competed to finish off a lard crust raw.

  13. I loved it! I guess all us mountain young’uns have had a cousin Snooty in our past…. Love your articles!

  14. As much pure aggravation as your cousin Snooty is, I’m sure glad she came to visit again. I’ve been hoping for this Part Two of her education since her last homecoming. And I’m afeared that this ain’t the last we’ll hear of her (if we’re very lucky).

  15. Lol. Your words sing to me of my roots. And we have long called them “the death pies”. Coconut cream that is always taken to the family when someone goes on to the hereafter. Maybe for dinner on the grounds too but always to pay respects.

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