I tend to forget that during the almost three decades since the Short Rows was introduced, many things have changed, including the audience. 

Regrettably, many of the old Isle of Wight residents who were faithful Smithfield Times readers and personal friends back in the 1990s have, in the words of old country folk, “gone away from here.”

Fortunately, a few old timers, plus another generation of natives, as well as numerous new residents, are now reading the paper — which, thank goodness, we still have. Thank you, Steve Stewart and Stephen Faleski.

So, I thought it might be interesting to re-introduce a subject dear to my heart that was last visited seriously about 25 years ago — country sayings.

Many country folk still have their own way of expressing themselves, but the collection of sayings that was prevalent when I was coming along more deeply reflected the rural life that previous generations understood. It’s from that deep reservoir that I have collected country word usage and sayings over the years. And collecting them has been harder than you might think for me, because I tend to use a lot of those sayings and don’t even recognize that I’m doing so. It’s usually a clue that I am when our grandchildren look at me like I’ve just flown in from Mars.

Be that as it may, here are a few samples from that collection.

Don’t go in a restaurant and order “snaps” instead of green beans because your server (remember waitresses?) will look at you like the grandchildren do when you’re trying to text a cellphone message to multiple people.

We raised snaps — not green beans — and we raised a lot of them. Our mother would send us out to either “pick a mess” or a passel, depending on their use. A “mess” of snaps or other vegetables was enough for supper — not dinner, which was only served on Sunday after church.

If she was ready to can (preserve) snaps to store for the winter, we would be sent to pick a “passel,” which, in our case, generally meant all that were ripe in the garden.

Now, a “mess” of snaps or butterbeans shouldn’t be confused with a mess made by us kids, and wasn’t, because that was a “muss.” When children made a muss, they had to clean it up and, if they didn’t do so promptly, their mama could get upset. If she got really upset, she might throw a “hissy.” You didn’t want that to happen, but if the hissy became a “conniption fit,” you best be somewhere else.

That muss would most assuredly have to be cleaned up if company was expected. In fact, if we knew company was coming, everybody in the house got in a “swivet” until everything was ready for the guests.

When those guests arrived, it would not be unusual for the grownups to meet them outside and invite them to “get down and come in the house.” The phrase “get down” had a meaning familiar to my parents, but not to me personally. It referred to a horse-drawn buggy or wagon, from which you had to climb down. But for as long as they lived, my parents and many others of their generation would still invite people to “get down” from their cars. 

(It’s ironic that the phrase “get down and come in” is one that has gained new meaning and might well be used appropriately when people come calling in the giant pickup trucks and SUVs that have become so popular in recent years.) 

If the guests were from out of town and would be staying overnight, they would generally open the “boot”— not the trunk — of their car to retrieve their luggage. 

Once they had settled down inside the house, guests would certainly be asked what refreshments they would like. They might “admire,” rather than enjoy, a cup of coffee or just a glass of water. 

If the visitors had come by way of a poorly maintained dirt road, which was not unusual back then, they might say the trip “near bout shook our gizzard loose.”

And they certainly would complain about the roads, for which there was “no skuse.”

If Mama was “worn out” from all the preparations, and the guests were from all that bumpy travel, all of them might need to rest, and if so, everybody might “catch a nap.”

There are a huge number of sayings, so I’ll get back to the subject in another Rows. In the meantime, if anyone has a favorite country saying feel free to send it to me. I’m always looking to add to the collection. If I already have it, it just reinforces prevalence.

 

John Edwards is publisher emeritus of The Smithfield Times. His email address is j.branchedwards@gmail.com.