I recently had someone ask me what “high cotton” means. I was somewhat perplexed. I thought even folks outside of the South knew the George Gershwin song, “Summertime,” from Porgy and Bess:
“Summertime,
And the livin' is easy
Fish are jumpin'
And the cotton is high.”
And the livin' is easy
Fish are jumpin'
And the cotton is high.”
I
explained that the phrase “livin’ in high cotton” originated during
the Antebellum-era in the Deep South. When cotton had grown high (tall), the
crop promised to be good, bringing a profit to the grower. And when the cotton
was high, there wasn’t a lot of work to do until the harvest – the livin’ was
easy. The phrase passed into the Southern lexicon and now “livin’ in high
cotton” means that a person is successful.
Our conversation “got me thinking”
about other words and phrases that were part of everyday conversations I heard
growing up in the South. If you aren’t
familiar with Southern vernacular, let me explain. I’ve found that these terms
can be sorted into three categories: about People, about Food, and about Activities.
Now the most familiar “People” term
to those outside of the South is “y’all.” And even if delivered in the best
drawl, nothing gives you away faster as a faux Southerner than the incorrect
use of this term. “Y’all” is the contraction for “you” and “all.” It is always plural. One person can never be a “y’all.” I must say that I
find it impossible to address a group of people without using “y’all.” If I
just say “you,” how do they know I’m not speaking to only one of them? “Y’all”
is practical – just saying’. You can even add “all” to make a phrase if need
be, as in, “Are all y’all going to the Auburn game on Saturday?”
Yes, incorrect use of the term
“y’all” is a dead giveaway that you’re a Yankee. Now let me explain that term. New
England residents will tell you that “Yankee” properly refers to descendants of
English Colonial Settlers. But when a
Southerner uses the term, it means anyone not from the South, be they from
California, or Montana, or Ohio. Here’s an example of proper use of the word: “We
were worried when Lila Rose told us she was marrying that Yankee boy from
Michigan that she’s been goin’ ’round with, since we don’t know anything about
his family, but he seems to have had some raisin’.” Yes, we Southerners may call
anyone from outside of the South a Yankee, but that doesn’t mean we don’t know good
people come from all over. And even in the South, you can find people who’ve
had no raisin’. In fact, one of the worst things you can say about a person is
that he or she’s “got no raisin’.” This indicates a total lack of manners and
class.
Now,
a person may have been raised to know the difference between a salad fork and a
dinner fork and to say “Ma’am” and “Sir” and still not have any common sense.
That person is described as such: “Oh, no. Here comes Rob, Jr. That boy ‘doesn’t
know his ass from a hole in the ground’.” If he winds up making a
well-thought-out blunder, such as “cheating on Mary Elizabeth with that ‘white
trash’ Donna Jean,” well, his “sorry ass” better not show up around here. Excuse
me for cussing – now let’s move on.
A happy person is “happy as a dead
pig in the sunshine.” A lazy person “won’t hit a lick at a snake” and is
probably “a no account, good-for-nothing.” And that lazy person most likely
“doesn’t have a pot to pee in” due to his or her lack of ability to hold a job.
It may be the person spends too much time imbibing. In that case the person
might be found “drunker than Cooter Brown.” I don’t know who Cooter Brown is,
but obviously he needs help from AA. He may have gotten so drunk that he
couldn’t see clearly and took to procreating with a “gal” who was “uglier than
homemade sin.” Hopefully that gal moved on to a better fellow – “a good ol’
boy.” “A good ol’ boy” is entirely different from a “redneck,” who is completely
different from “trash.” The distinctions are hard to explain, but quite
apparent if you spend enough time around folks from these three classes.
Before leaving the “People”
category, I feel I should address the issue of proper Southern names. Southerners
love family names; that is to say, that to name your child after a long dead
relative is a sign you know the value of a family legacy. Last names often show
up in successive generations as first names. And no Southern child has less
than two names, preferably three, and is possibly known casually by a nickname
that has been handed down in the family as well. If the child is a boy, then
the designations “Jr.,” “II,” “III,” “IV,” etc. are highly prized. Here’s an
example: Rutledge Tutwiler Lee McAlister, III, commonly known as “Rut.” And when
you meet someone, you always want to find out as soon as possible who that
person’s family is. Perhaps you are distantly related, and then you’ll have
found a long-lost cousin to invite to the next family reunion. Yes, we
Southerners love genealogy! If all this seems silly to you, then all I can say
is “bless your heart!” May I also explain that this phrase is said with a
smile, but the meaning is anything but magnanimous.
If
you’re still interested in learning more Southern expressions, then “let’s kiss
and make-up” and move on to the next category of Southern expressions: those
involving Food. Yes, food is very
important in the South. Many family squabbles have been forgotten while eating
a “mess” of greens (be they collards, turnip, mustard, or kale) and sopping a “pone”
of cornbread in the “pot liquor.” No, this isn’t whiskey served in a pot; it is
the juice produced by cooking the greens in water with ham and some sugar to
cut the bitter taste. Learning to put sugar in your greens is just one of the
many kitchen tips handed down in families, along with coveted family recipes,
such as ones for moist cornbread dressing. And by “dressing,” I don’t mean
something you put on your salad, but a side dish for your turkey. This dish is
made not with white bread but with cornbread (which is never sweet), and the
finish product is never stuffed
inside a bird. The cornbread dressing snuggles up nicely on your plate next to
sweet potato (not yam) casserole with the little marshmallows on top. To round
out your meal, have some macaroni & cheese, Southern-style, a food-for-the-gods dish that is baked
after stirring raw eggs into the mixture of noodles, milk, and cheese. Green
beans would also be a nice addition to the meal. In the South, they are never sautéed
or served “crisp tender.” Instead, they are boiled for at least an hour, with ham cut up in them, until they surrender completely
and turn limp, sporting a slightly grayish-green color. Boy, do they taste good!
But if that isn’t to your liking, then maybe have some fried okra – cut in
pieces, stems trimmed, tossed in cornmeal and flour, salt & pepper, and fried in a little bit
of oil. Have some sweet tea with lemon to wash it all down and either Banana Puddin’
or Lemon Ice Box Pie to finish up before you flop on the sofa for a nap. My,
my, I do have a “hankerin’” for some Southern cookin’ about now!
But first, let me tell you about the last
category of Southern expressions: Activities. Here’s one: I’m “fixin’ to” “fix”
chicken and dumplings for supper. No they don’t need repair; I’m just getting
ready to make them. The fix you’re thinking about is the kind done to your car.
If your car just needs gas, then take it to the “fillin’ station,” not the gas
station. The “g” word is best not used in polite company. After filling up your
car, you can head over to the grocery store. You should go there “directly” (that
means quickly), because they are having triple coupons today. I hope you get a
good “buggy” (shopping cart), not one with a wobbly wheel. A word of
advice: Keep your pocketbook (not purse) on your arm rather than putting it in
the buggy; you never know what germs may be on the thing! When you take your
groceries to the car, I hope it’s not raining, but if it’s summer in the South,
then it’s most likely “hot as blue blazes” (not to be confused with navy
blazers). Don’t ask me what “blue blazes” are; I haven’t a clue, and I’m too “tuckered
out” to Google it. Instead, why don’t you “pull up a chair and sit awhile.” I’ll
have baby Anna Belle with me. Her little face has gotten so plump that Grandma
can’t help saying, “Gimme some sugar” (kisses), every time she sees her. Maybe
Cousin Judson will stop by, and we can “talk some sense into him,” after we
greet him with a proper “hey,” first. Ever since he retired, all he does is “piddle
around” in his garage, and Cousin Opal Ann is “fit to be tied” about it. She was
so “riled up” the last time I saw her!
After
our visit, I do need to get to the Washateria (not laundrymat), because my
washing machine is broken, and Sears can’t come out ’til next week. Johnny Lee said he was going to fix it last
night, but he was making such a racket that I went in there and said, “What in
tarnation is going on in here!” (I don’t exactly know what ‘tarnation’ means, but
suffice it to say, it’s nothing good.) Johnny Lee was “torn up” that I didn’t
trust him to fix it, but I think the work is best left to a professional. While
Johnny Lee cleaned up his mess, I stepped outside to look at the “lightin’ bugs”
(fireflies), and I caught a glimpse of that “varmint” possum going back under
the porch after eating all the cat food. Then Johnny Lee started calling to me
to cut him a piece of pie to eat while he watched the Braves game. I said, “I’ll
be there by and by” (in a short while), but instead I just went on to bed. My head was pounding from too much stress, not
to mention the fact that Johnny Lee doesn’t need to eat any more pie! Anyway, this
morning, I felt “fit as a fiddle.”
However,
I must admit that now all this explaining has left me “plum tuckered out.” So
before I conclude, let me give you a final test of how you put these
expressions all together:
Jackson was torn up over Gracie
Pearl leavin’ him for that no-account, good-for-nothin’ nephew of Judson’s who’s always drunk as Cooter Brown and never has hit
a lick at a snake, so Mama fixed a mess of collards and a pone of cornbread to
go with that Honey-Baked ham Savannah gave her to make up for mangling that iced
tea spoon from Grandma’s Francis I silverware in the garbage disposal. Anyway,
Mama invited Jackson over for Sunday dinner. We talked some sense into him, and
now he realizes that he’s better off without Gracie Pearl. That gal never did
have any raisin’, and that fella she’s run off with doesn’t know his ass from a
hole in the ground, so they never will have a pot to pee in. Jackson says now
that he thinks about it, he realizes she was as ugly as homemade sin, so now
he’s feelin’ happy as a dead pig in the sunshine to be rid of her.
Do you
follow what I’m sayin’?
Well, if
you don’t, then bless your heart!
May
your tea be sweet and your cotton high,
Leigh
Ann Thornton