Some people like my singing voice. Others have said they appreciate how I write like I talk. That one's kind of funny because I also bamboozle folks hailing from elsewhere who have a very particular idea in mind when they imagine native speakers from this region. In fact, one of my few local clients has always liked my doing her correspondence because I sound like her "on paper" -- and she's from part of the Republic that's awful thick-tongued. Yet if I had a nickel for every time one of the NYC folks said to me during a phone call, "Wow, you don't SOUND like you're from there!"...
I sound like I do (and that includes how I write) strategically. Every smart woman knows the importance of voice modulation. Now, how you sound isn't necessarily a make-or-break deal. Case in point, The Bloggess -- that's one powerful bloggin' mama but she squeaks like a field mouse. But for most of us with only fair-to-middlin talents in any arena, how that voice sounds coming out of our mouth can make a difference in whether we get hired, fired, or laid.
This here is a shout out to one of the women behind The Voice you're now hearing.
Janice Bourdon, wherever you are, this blogpost's for you.
Janice, wife to Rod, mother to Jimmy and Rhonda, grandmother to a bunch of others, was my godmother.
No, I'm not Catholic, nor am I even Christian anymore (well, sort of...), but christening babies and giving them godparents was actually done by most WASP's a few decades ago almost regardless of the family's religion. I think it was a way of protecting the kid's future in the event of sudden catastrophic death of both parents, like could happen to pioneers in the Westward Ho wagon train era.
Anyway, I was assigned to Janice and Rod Bourdon. Suited me and everybody else fine because they were my parents' best friends from high school and they had two kids who were eerily close in age to me and my oldest sister, Martha Ann. To top off the close, other-worldly connection to mis padrinos, Janice didn't work and she lived smack in the middle between our elementary school and our house, so that's where we spent our afternoons until Mama got home.
Janice reigned from her kitchen, usually while sitting at the formica and aluminum table, drinking coffee, chatting on the phone, while we kids created havoc. Back then, of course, we were usually outside. Barefoot. Sometimes on the roof. When we'd come running inside for water or the bathroom, there was a really good chance that one of Janice's two kids would get a hollerin' and a swat as they ran through the kitchen. On the other hand, Janice never touched me and my sisters, and if there was any speakin-to to be done in our direction, she did so with an unusual sweetness. It was kind of creepy how she could turn on a dime like that, but we were glad.
When I had my own child some 35 years after those afternoons with Janice, I was aghast to hear myself channeling her, right around the time my little hellion became a toddler.
From Janice, I got "ACK!"
Now, "ACK" became famous later on the Internet, though I'm not exactly sure how other folks say or hear it. When I write "ACK", it sounds so close to "AT" that it's easy to think that's what I'm saying, unless you're the poor kid who's just been caught doing something.
"ACK!" is how you stop a kid in their tracks, like from running out in the driveway behind a truck in reverse, or from eating the cat's food. When you don't have time to think of anything more meaningful to say, a good sharp "ACK!" suffices. For double emphasis, say it twice, really fast: "ACK-ACK!!"
I got a lot of other vocal stylings from Janice, and you'll hear them come up now and then (even if you're not my kid), and you'll know Janice by the tone. Janice had one of the sharpest Gulf Coast tongues I've ever heard. I hear her echoed sometimes in places like Wal-Mart (no, I don't go to Wal-Mart) or some of the smaller towns that lie outside the reach of our city's urbanity urbaneness urbane acuity city limits. And she had a great laugh, too, a sort of half-tinkle-half-cackle that was really sincere. Sometimes I think I hear Janice when I laugh.
The bottom line to Janice, though, was that were a lot of bottom lines. She was Where The Buck Stopped. Her and all her sisters, in fact, were friendly and tough. You had the impression they could and would do anything necessary for any occasion. Nothing passive about how these women presented themselves. Sort of terrifying and reassuring all in the same package. Their frequent conversations were a resonant background music to my childhood.
I may have no aunts, uncles, or cousins, but I had godparents, and from Janice, I learned the power of a well-aimed twang. Plus, she taught me that this is what kids from the Depression Era ate after school:
I sound like I do (and that includes how I write) strategically. Every smart woman knows the importance of voice modulation. Now, how you sound isn't necessarily a make-or-break deal. Case in point, The Bloggess -- that's one powerful bloggin' mama but she squeaks like a field mouse. But for most of us with only fair-to-middlin talents in any arena, how that voice sounds coming out of our mouth can make a difference in whether we get hired, fired, or laid.
This here is a shout out to one of the women behind The Voice you're now hearing.
Janice Bourdon, wherever you are, this blogpost's for you.
Janice, wife to Rod, mother to Jimmy and Rhonda, grandmother to a bunch of others, was my godmother.
No, I'm not Catholic, nor am I even Christian anymore (well, sort of...), but christening babies and giving them godparents was actually done by most WASP's a few decades ago almost regardless of the family's religion. I think it was a way of protecting the kid's future in the event of sudden catastrophic death of both parents, like could happen to pioneers in the Westward Ho wagon train era.
Anyway, I was assigned to Janice and Rod Bourdon. Suited me and everybody else fine because they were my parents' best friends from high school and they had two kids who were eerily close in age to me and my oldest sister, Martha Ann. To top off the close, other-worldly connection to mis padrinos, Janice didn't work and she lived smack in the middle between our elementary school and our house, so that's where we spent our afternoons until Mama got home.
Janice reigned from her kitchen, usually while sitting at the formica and aluminum table, drinking coffee, chatting on the phone, while we kids created havoc. Back then, of course, we were usually outside. Barefoot. Sometimes on the roof. When we'd come running inside for water or the bathroom, there was a really good chance that one of Janice's two kids would get a hollerin' and a swat as they ran through the kitchen. On the other hand, Janice never touched me and my sisters, and if there was any speakin-to to be done in our direction, she did so with an unusual sweetness. It was kind of creepy how she could turn on a dime like that, but we were glad.
When I had my own child some 35 years after those afternoons with Janice, I was aghast to hear myself channeling her, right around the time my little hellion became a toddler.
From Janice, I got "ACK!"
Now, "ACK" became famous later on the Internet, though I'm not exactly sure how other folks say or hear it. When I write "ACK", it sounds so close to "AT" that it's easy to think that's what I'm saying, unless you're the poor kid who's just been caught doing something.
"ACK!" is how you stop a kid in their tracks, like from running out in the driveway behind a truck in reverse, or from eating the cat's food. When you don't have time to think of anything more meaningful to say, a good sharp "ACK!" suffices. For double emphasis, say it twice, really fast: "ACK-ACK!!"
I got a lot of other vocal stylings from Janice, and you'll hear them come up now and then (even if you're not my kid), and you'll know Janice by the tone. Janice had one of the sharpest Gulf Coast tongues I've ever heard. I hear her echoed sometimes in places like Wal-Mart (no, I don't go to Wal-Mart) or some of the smaller towns that lie outside the reach of our city's urbanity urbaneness urbane acuity city limits. And she had a great laugh, too, a sort of half-tinkle-half-cackle that was really sincere. Sometimes I think I hear Janice when I laugh.
The bottom line to Janice, though, was that were a lot of bottom lines. She was Where The Buck Stopped. Her and all her sisters, in fact, were friendly and tough. You had the impression they could and would do anything necessary for any occasion. Nothing passive about how these women presented themselves. Sort of terrifying and reassuring all in the same package. Their frequent conversations were a resonant background music to my childhood.
I may have no aunts, uncles, or cousins, but I had godparents, and from Janice, I learned the power of a well-aimed twang. Plus, she taught me that this is what kids from the Depression Era ate after school:
JANICE'S AFTERNOON BUTTERMILK FRITO SNACK
1 Tall glass of buttermilk
1 Bag of Fritos
Black pepper
Dump half the bag of Fritos into the glass of buttermilk, sprinkle with black pepper. Eat with a long-handled teaspoon.
If you're making the sound I think you are in "Ack!", it's what linguists would call a "glottal stop." Is it the sound between the two parts of "uh-oh"?
If so, I make that sound, although I also say, "Ack!" which sounds like..."ack." :-) That's the sound I make when I find that the dogs have gotten into the kitchen garbage moments before guests are due.
Posted by: Amanda | 03/03/2010 at 03:26 PM
bad dogs!
I like that -- glottal stop. Thanks, Amanda.
From Wikipedia (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Glottal_stop):
"The symbol in the International Phonetic Alphabet that represents this sound is ʔ. It is called the glottal stop because the technical term for the gap between the vocal folds, which is closed up in the production of this sound, is the glottis."
Now I know why my glottis hurts so much after breaking up dogs fighting over their eggs.
Posted by: trailer park bodhisattva | 03/04/2010 at 09:04 AM