My accent is fading. I used to speak with a pronounced Indiana twang - a verbal reminder of my homeland of which I have been stubbornly proud for years. However, this year marks the 13th anniversary of Jennie and I's incredible escape from the Hoosier state (for extremely fictious details, read my blog post from 29 March 2006, The Great Escape). I still remember the brush and the briars, the terror of being hunted down by snarling dogs and various farm animals, the guards in their coveralls atop their tractors, having to crawl through that crudely dug tunnel, emerging on the Illinois side of the razor-wire electric fence...
Alas, I digress...
While my twang may be fading, there are still some word pronunciations that drive me up a tree. Much like our beloved president who talks about "nu-kyuw-lur" weapons (its nu-clee-ar, folks!), I cannot make myself refer to my parents' sisters and sisters-in-laws as "onts". They are my aunts (pronounced "ants").
I was baptized in a creek (pronounced "crick"). Creek is the sound your wood doors make when they need oil.
And don't pick on me because my car has windahs.
OK... there's plenty of room for multiple pronunciations of most of the English language. That's why I love English so much - it is so pliable! You can abuse it, misuse it... heck, practically destroy it! - and it will still convey your message. Sometimes even better!
Yabetcha! (OK... another non-Hoosierism I refuse to adopt.)
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