Re: A Difficult Question! - Not answered half badly


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Posted by Ed Kiser on May 12, 2003 at -1:05:10 from 205.188.208.8 user Kisered.

In Reply to: Re: A Difficult Question! - Not answered half badly posted by Peter H on May 11, 2003 at 20:01:33:

Peter -

You chose as an example:

‘You don’t manage her half badly’

I don't think I had too much problem with that as it involved two negatives. The rule of thumb with dealing with a double negative is to make both of the positives, so the "don't" becomes "do", and the "badly" becomes "well", which leave us with "You do manage her half well." Now that "half" may be a bit of a puzzler, but I got from it the meaning that it was a statement of praise.

As for my puzzling over certain Britishisms in language, I don't consider that to be a negative at all, as it just added to the fascination of the adventure I was having going through his stories. So those people "talk funny" (by my Southern American standards); that is just part of the fun. There are those language differences, but digging out that understanding is like exploring. So far as dialect goes, I have a feeling that there are those in the Mother Country that also find some of the Lake District terminology to be "talking funny" by their own standards, just as a native of North Carolina (me) might have a bit of a problem in understanding a rapidly spoken BROOKLYN accent - and vice versa. One thing I was eagerly looking forward to when I first started "Coots in the North" (not knowing it would just stop, leaving me hanging) was my anticipation of how the Norfork lads would make out managing the Lake District lingo. Sounded like a great opportunity for a misunderstanding that leads to more twisting of the plot - that never happened.

I enjoy the diversity of the language, as English is rather rich in its diversities, considering that so many people in separated parts of the world all think they are speaking English, where it is all those other people that seem to mess it up. It is all a part of the human nature to try to identify "them" as being different from "us."

Reminds me of my dismay when I was in London on IBM business (no time for ANYthing else...) and I stopped at a MacDonalds there on Pickadilly in hopes that I would find something more recognizable as being edible, and the young lady serving me there hearing me speak in my traditional North Carolina Southern best, said to me, "You're a Yankee, aren't you?" Now, to understand what that meant to me would require a great familiarization with the area customs of the several areas of the USA, with certain cultural differences based on a major misunderstanding back in 1960, with a horror known as the Civil War (as it is called in the North) but in the South is known as "the War between the States" or perhaps, "The war of Yankee aggression." The basic concept here is, for a good-ol' boy from the South (as I was from North Carolina) to be called a "Yankee" is somewhat of a shock. As we would say back home, "Them's fightin' words." It would be taken as some sort of accusation, to be though of as being one of "them." Now don't get me wrong, I get along just fine with my IBM associates that originated up North, and that is not a problem, just don't tell me you think I am one of of them. Now, considering that English Girl's innocent question, it was not intended that she was accusing me of some sort of evil association, she just meant the word "Yankee" to mean an "American", which of course that is what I was. So considering the source of her question and how she meant it, I took a deep swallow, and for the first time in my life, I admitted that, to her point of view anyway, that "I was a Yankee." I did feel odd about saying that, as it brought back those old "we, they" feelings that really are so out of date anyway, but are there in the back of our cultural upbringing.

I have heard it said that the "Mason-Dixon Line" (a traditional geographical line that seems to run between the states of the North and those of the South, as defined back in the 1860 unpleasantness), is defined as being a linguistic mark on the map separating "ya'll" from "youse guys". Now we are into American dialects, so those of you not familiar with such may not "get it." Once again, each group seems to be wont to point to that other group, and say, with some degree of distain, "THEY talk funny."

I love our differences. It is in our mutual understanding that we are indeed different that can do so much to bring us together, to where we are not all that much different after all.

Being involved in the TARBOARD forum, where I get to see those local colours (see? I did not say, Color, ah hah! I'm learning...) that the contributors from really all over the world add to the mix of the adventure of exploring English in its multiple flavors - or is that flavours... It is quote a delight to share these wordings, and see the differences. Still not into saying "whilst" yet, that one leaves me thinking I'm reading Shakespeare. But at least I have gotten (er, "got") used to seeing it, understanding that is just the way "they" do it, and go on to the meaning of the statement, whatever the dialect.

All in all, it is just part of the pleasure of being a part of All Things Ransome.

=====================

About the hard working Jacky:

I was raised on a farm in North Carolina, and worked there as a part of the family, as we all did our share, even from a very young age it was found that certain chores I could manage. While we were kept very busy with the work of a farm, and there always seems to be plenty of that to be done, there was still time to take a dip in the local creek to cool off, to take a ladder, lean it up on the side of a haystack, and after climbing up, slide down just for the fun of it, to make a side trip to the watermelon patch, bust one open by dropping it, and with bare hands scoup out the red heart and bury your face in it, remarking afterwards how clean our hands had gotten ( I know, "got") in the process, or trying to ride a cow, holding on to her horns, without any cooperation from the cow in this attempt, to race towards the fence to see if I could get there before the bull, and if I did win the race, could I leap over it (barbed wire at the top) and would the bull even bothered to notice that now a fence separated us. Yes, there was work to be done, but we managed to find fun while doing it. At least, I was not hanging out on some dark street corner getting involved in local gangs or other unsavory activities, and that makes for a great difference in one's upbringing.

Sorry, Peter, this got a bit long, but if you took the effort to read this far, at least you got the apology to go along with it.

Ed Kiser, South Florida


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