We used to say all the time that we needed to write down my grandmother's sayings she would randomly spit out on the drop of a hat. Each saying would fit precisely with the situation. We would laugh and the moment passed.
I find that many of these were somehow recorded in my memory, not to be retrieved and named off out of the blue, but when some certain thing happens a saying that goes with it just pops up in my head.
I was frustrated with a person one day after I had gone out of my way to take on a responsibility for her a second time when instead of saying thank you, she found a way I could have done the favor better. I didn't say it out loud, but instantly I thought, "You shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth." It was as if my grandmother were sitting on my shoulder the way she once sat with us around her kitchen fireplace. And quietly we shared a southern smile.
I could be wrong because I have spent my entire life living in the south, but we seem to have a way of putting things into words, random words, that tells a story quickly and effectively making a point. Or am I just "preaching to the choir?" Most southerners were raised with this flavorful communication. When I get around people who are brand new to the south, I find I have to retrace my words when I toss these out because they catch a non-southerner off guard.
Not that I "give a hill of beans" if people who are not from the south understand our intentions when we communicate in this way. I once heard a professor say in a writing class that the reason the south has such colorful figurative language is because back when this type of communication was established many people were illiterate. They did not have a vast dictionary of multiple syllabic words to use when explaining that it had been a "protracted" amount of time since they had visited with a relative, but they sure knew how to phrase it as, "We haven't seen each other in a month of Sundays."
In defense of the south, I feel certain that more than a century ago there were a multitude of people, especially in rural areas, who were extensively literate. But if their tempers were pricked and they didn't "want to be put over mama's checkered apron" for cussing, they would refer to being "madder than a wet hen." Those of us in the south know chickens can get a temper. Which is why we say, "Don't get your feathers ruffled."
Cotton comes up a good bit in these sayings. "Wait a cotton-picking minute." Have you ever watched the process of picking cotton? It is a long minute. And "Well, isn't he in high cotton." I guess it was a good day when the cotton grew high in the fields. And every child knew after getting a cheek pinched by an extended relative that they were about to be asked to "Give'em some sugar."
We don't have shopping carts down south; we have buggies. We don't have pop or soda. We have a coke. And back in the day we dumped a bag of roasted peanuts in the bottle to give it a zing. This form of communication has been "fine and dandy" to all generations who have dwelt under the humid summer sun. Down south we "go to town" trying to forge strong bonds of communication just as melodic tunes and spicy aromas waft in that same air in unison with the crawfish and locusts.
We don't need to talk all fancy down south to "get on our way." We all know "you can be top rooster one day and a feather duster the next." Only the people who live down south need to know this language. To all else it is likely just flavorfully entertainment. "Well, butter my backside and call me a biscuit." Isn't that just one more way we are unique?
