Say What?

I work with a woman who recently moved to Massachusetts from Toronto and there have been a few times that she’s had trouble understanding some people due to their thick Boston accents. I can sympathize with her, because I’ve had a hard time understanding people with strong Southern accents in the past. As a matter of fact, even though I grew up here I have a hard time understanding some people sometimes (hello Boston Mayor Tom Menino).

When my wife and I moved to California back in the 90’s, we found out pretty quick that people there love accents from all over – except Boston. We took our share of being made fun of because of how we spoke, so we decided to make a conscious decision to ditch the accent. We started saying our R’s at the end of words and dropped “wicked” as an adjective for something good. We didn’t start speaking like Valley Girls and Guys (“for sure”, “totally”), but people couldn’t tell we were from the Boston area either. Some people thought I was from Canada. It must have been the French sounding last name.

A few months ago, I found out that there are Boston slang web sites that help others know what the heck we’re talking about here. These are some of my favorites:

Alls - a common substitute for “all that”. I’ve been hearing and saying this phrase for years. When I was a kid, alls I knew was that I better be home on time. Oh, and I better not tell Mom.

Bang a U-ie – means to make a U turn to go back the other way. With all the one way streets around here, it can be a lot quicker to bang a U-ie than to go through five or six sets of lights and bang a couple of rights, only to find out there’s no left turn allowed at that intersection.

Chowderhead – or as most people around here would say it, “chowdahead”. It means a stupid person, as in, “You turned down free Sox tickets? What a chowdahead!” I’m not sure how common this is, but it is kind of funny to think about calling someone that.

Cruiser – another name for a police car. When we were riding around town on Friday nights, we always had to keep an eye out for “crewzahs” because according to the cops, a car full of kids was probably doing something wrong.

Hi hosey – a term used to signify that you were claiming something was yours. Say we were sitting around watching TV and you had a prime seat. Sooner or later you were going to have to get up for something, such as going to the bathroom or refilling your drink. Once your butt was off that seat, it was fair game to everybody in the room. That is, unless you hi hosey’d the seat before you got up, because then no one could take it. Hey, I didn’t make the rules, I just tried to follow them.

Like a bastard (“bastid”) – means an excess of something. Say it’s snowing really hard outside (around here that would be a “blizzid”). You may look out the window and say something like, “It’s snowing like a bastid outside!” Or maybe when you were a teenager at a party a crewzah showed up unexpectedly out of nowhere. What do you do in that situation? You run like a bastid.

No suh – means “no way”. Your friend comes up to you and tells you that the girl you like is now going out with some chowdahead. In disbelief you say, “No suh”. He shakes his head up and down emphatically and says, “Ya huh!” That means “Yes, this is absolutely true.” No suh and Ya huh usually go together.

Pissa – means something cool or good. Riding with my brother in his Olds 442 with Deep Purple’s Machine Head (on 8-track!) cranking out of the stereo was pissa! Riding in my parents’ car was not.

So don’t I – though not grammatically correct, a term of agreement.

Me: I need to get a job.

My friend: So don’t I.

Me: Then I need to get a car.

My friend: So don’t I.

Me: Then I need a girlfriend.

My friend: Yaw a lewza!

Statie – A Massachusetts State Trooper. You could joke around a little with the local police, but you don’t mess with a Statie. If a Statie pulls you over for something, you’re probably going to get a ticket - no matta how hahd you try.

Tonic – soda. Not a lot of people say this anymore, but the older folks still do. We all laugh a little when my Mom asks if we want some tonic. It’s nice and cold, it’s in the refrigaratah.

Wicked – means very. We always thought that school was wicked boring. Around here, we don’t worry that something “wicked good” seems to be a contradiction in terms. Also, if something “pissa” is cool or good, then “wicked pissa” is incredible. For example, Bobby Orr’s goal that won the Stanley Cup for the Boston Bruins on May 10, 1970 was not just pissa, it was wicked pissa. That we all still remember exactly where we were when it happened 40+ years later proves the point.

You’s guys – means all of you. “You’s guys want to watch the game?” Even teachers used to say it at times. “You’s guys look like yaw up ta no good.”

One other saying that we heard a lot at my house was “Hold ya hossis!” That was my Mom’s way of telling us to wait a minute (hold your horses, wherever that came from). When we came to the dinner table like a pack of ravenous wolves and were starting to grab stuff, we just had to hold our hossis.  Eventually we’d get our food. Seems we were always being told to “hold ya hossis!” I guess we were always in a rush for something.

I should probably forward a link or two to my coworker so she can start to understand the local accent.  They may be able to help her with most people. Others, you just nod and pretend you know what they’re talking about (Tom Menino).

Spring Is In the Air

Spring is in the air. There’s about a million birds around my neighborhood, chirping away like they’re on "Bird Idol" and gathering stuff for their nests. The grass, while not what I’d call green yet, is starting to come alive. We’ve even had a couple of days where I didn’t need to wear a jacket! This being New England, those days were followed by temperatures in the 30’s again, which felt even colder after having been in the high 60’s or 70’s. The first day of spring was last Sunday, so of course we got some snow on Monday. I would have been surprised if it didn’t snow.

The biggest difference, however, has been the number of people outside. People are actually going outside for longer than it takes to get from the house to the car. One of my neighbors has two kids, a boy 5 and a girl 3. They’ve been riding around on their little bikes and using the swing set. I heard their voices the other day, looked out the window and saw them swinging up to the sky, having the time of their lives. They had their winter jackets and hats on but you would have thought it was the middle of July with the fun they were having. Just the fact that they could get to their swing set after all the snow we got was an accomplishment. 

My neighbor across the street has two boys, about 11 and 9. Those two have been outside playing basketball, street hockey and baseball. They’ve been tossing the baseball back and forth and they even have one of those pitch back devices so they can throw the ball at it and have it come back to them. What caught my attention one day was the older boy trying to make the younger one do something by throwing him to the ground, sitting on him and torturing him into doing whatever it was. Nothing like the love between brothers. Eventually, the younger and smaller one wiggled his way free, put a move on the older one and was suddenly on top. The older boy started yelling and screaming and about 30 seconds later their mother came out and told them to break it up and to stop making so much noise. The younger boy never yelled or screamed; he just worked his way out of the death hold his older brother had him in and came out on top. Did I mention that the younger boy is also smaller? Yet the older, bigger boy did all the yelling and screaming. As far as I’m concerned, justice was not done.

When one my older brothers got me in one of those choke holds when we were kids, I would try my hardest to get out of it and gain the advantage. I may have gotten lucky once or twice and escaped, but that just meant when they got me locked up again it was a little rougher and harder. However, I never stopped trying to get out of whatever hold they had me in. Why bother, why not just take it like a man and get it over with? Because it was kind of a measure of how “big” I was getting. If I could make them work to subdue me, that meant I was getting stronger. If I could escape, even for a few seconds, it meant I was getting tougher. I looked forward to the day when I could say that I beat them, that I got away fair and square, because that would mean I was on their level. All the kids I knew that had older brothers wanted the same thing – to be as strong as, as tough as, as good in sports as... as cool as their older brothers. Ultimately, what we wanted was to not be their little brother anymore, but to just be their brother.

However, we never got that victory as kids. Justice was not done. By the time we thought we were actually able to come out on top, our older brothers had moved on to bigger and better (maybe, maybe not) things. I’m sure they had long forgotten the times they knocked us down and pinned us to the ground, or held us in a head lock and gave us noogies, or grabbed us by the arms and gave us Indian rope burns. They probably even forgot they had given us the dreaded Cherokee Drag where they knocked us down and dragged us around by our legs, taking us across the driveway or street and into the bushes. In the summertime. With or without a shirt on our backs. Nothing like the love between brothers.  

But something happened to us little brothers, too. We also grew up and moved on to bigger and better things. Revenge? Nah, not for me. My older brothers were the ones giving me rides to my baseball games or somewhere else in their cool cars. While other kids got dropped off in their parent’s station wagon, I got dropped off in a souped up Olds 442 or a Chevy Camaro, tires spinning and tunes cranking. When I needed a ride, they were there. When I had one of those questions I just couldn’t ask Mom or Dad and knew my friends didn’t have a clue what they were talking about, they were there. I soon realized that when I needed just about anything, even some encouragement about something, they were there. At some point, I had crossed some unseen dividing line and was now on their side. Sure they still gave me a hard time, but it was different. Somehow I was no longer their little brother, and I may have still been their younger brother, but I was now just their brother.  

Now, some forty years later, we still make fun of each other at times and give each other a good ribbing when the opportunity presents itself. They may have laughed more then, but not anymore. Especially now that some of them are grandparents and proud card-carrying members of AARP!