If your maiden name is Joubert, and there’s a Saint’s helmet on your car…
June 16, 2011 § 1 Comment
It’s said that if you pay close attention, the universe will send you messages. You need to be open, of course, but there is a theory that if you are presented with someone/something over and over, then perhaps it warrants investigating. If this is true, then the universe is telling me that I need to start watching “Swamp People“. It’s positively Eckhart Tolle, I swear. Now, this might be because my people come from South Lousiana. And since NO ONE here knows anyone from South Lousiana, it’s fair to assume that the toothless alligator hunters trolling the bayous in John boats are my cousins. So then of course, I would find this program so enjoyable that I would become overwhelmed with the nostalgia of my childhood, and call up ole Gaston (if he had a phone). I also probably could get by without the subtitles. THERE ARE SUBTITLES FOR THE CAJUNS!! I might have perforated an organ sprinting to the DVR.
Now I don’t think I have an accent to speak of, but I do sort of feel like a fish out of water. Living here, everyone has a MUCH more pronounced drawl than me, so I’m usually asked if I’m even from the South. When we moved to Northern Virgina when I was in high school, my new friends sounded like polished East Coasters (even though we were technically beneath the Mason-Dixon line). I spent a few years there picking up little nuggets like “you guys” and “soda” (and also peg-rolling my black jeans, dear God Allmighty). By the time I found myself in Bloomington, IN, I somehow earned the Southern Belle reputation. This had less to do with my delicate constitution, and more to do with the fact that I had Aunt Jules as a sidekick. Now while she’s lovely and literate and so very competant, the fact remains that she sounds like a South Philly steelworker. So in comparison, I’m sure I seemed more the Scarlett of the two.
I have a feeling that this show may become highly quotable in the immediate future. Lucky, lucky mister.