I have fallen in love with American names,
The sharp names that never get fat,
The snakeskin-titles of mining claims,
The plumed war-bonnet of Medicine Hat,
Tucson and Deadwood and Lost Mule Flat.
Stephen Vincent Benet
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Hello Arlene
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The poem above is the opening stanza of a longer poem called "American Names." In it the author, though satisfied and grateful for the years he spent in Europe, yearns to be back in America. He goes on to say that he will not forget his homeland.
"I will remember Carquinez Straits,
Little French Lick and Lundy's Lane,
The Yankee ships and the Yankee dates
And the bullet-towns of Calamity Jane.
I will remember Skunktown Plain."
I also love American names and the strange way some of them are pronouned. Pronunciations are often the result of local dialects, so that the same name in Texas will sound different from the one in California. Some of the names came from foreign countries but end up sounding completely different coming from the tongue of a local citizen. You're never sure until you hear a native say it. There's a place in this country where Brazil is pronounced BRAZZle.
I have lived half my life in New England where I got used to names like Coos (COH ahs), Berlin (BURR lin), Peabody (PEE biddy), Teaticket (Tee AT ikit), Natick (NAY dick). Truro and Swampscott are, blessedly, pronounced just the way they look.
Being also a New Yorker I'm familiar with names like Sag Harbor, Chappaqua and Tribeca (try BECK uh). People think New Yorkers have lazy speech because of things like The Bronx being pronounced DUH Bronx. Don't be fooled. It's a dialect and one New Yorker will recognize another one when he speaks, even if they're in the Gobi desert.
I did a few plays in a town called Blowing Rock, North Carolina. That's in Appalachia, where the Hill Billy's live. The nearest city is Boone (buhOON). One of the characters I played was an Appalachian, so I had to get the dialect right. I hired a dialect coach then went around town listening to the local people. There were two authentic Blue Grass musicians in the show and one of them said I sounded like I was a local person. I guess if I fooled the musicians ear I must have got it right.
Other than that experience I'm not familar with strange names and their pronunciations in the South or other places in the country. If anyone reading this has similar items to add you are welcome to put them here.
DB - Vagabond Journeys
Never give up.
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Showing posts with label New Yorker. Show all posts
Showing posts with label New Yorker. Show all posts
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
Sunday, July 22, 2012
Noble Soul
Reflect upon your aspirations, O noble one. No matter what your station be, keep searching.
Rumi
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Hello Jon
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Watchman, tell us of the night.
Tonight it's in the tropics
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My friend Marty is on vacation. He spends his days sitting in the sun, smoking his cigarettes, drinking his vodka, staring at the palm trees and the pelicans. He's in the Caribbean.
Normally Marty lives in Brooklyn. He's a basic New Yorker as I am.. Concrete brains and asphalt nerves. That's one reason why we're friends.
The rest of the year Marty works. He's a word processor and he's one of the best in the business. But that's not what he really is. He's really a musician. And that's another reason why we're friends. He plays keyboard: rock, jazz and classical.
Some day Marty will retire from his job, probably move to the Caribbean and play music because he carries music in his noble soul wherever he goes.
His saga is about facing necessities, grounding himself in the things and people that matter and searching for the answers that quell the questions. His is the grand search. It's the search for meaning. It's an active search done through accomplishment and force of character.
His is a vigorous search. While my search is mainly intellectual, with my nose in a book, Marty will be gathering adventures like a collector. We are very different in our approach to life. And that's another reason why we're friends.
But if I ever scrape the money together to buy a clarinet and learn how to play it, I may join him in the Caribbean, stare at the palm trees and pelicans and make music.
DB - The Vagabond
Never give up.
************************
Rumi
************************ .
Hello Jon
***********************
Watchman, tell us of the night.
Tonight it's in the tropics
************************
My friend Marty is on vacation. He spends his days sitting in the sun, smoking his cigarettes, drinking his vodka, staring at the palm trees and the pelicans. He's in the Caribbean.
Normally Marty lives in Brooklyn. He's a basic New Yorker as I am.. Concrete brains and asphalt nerves. That's one reason why we're friends.
The rest of the year Marty works. He's a word processor and he's one of the best in the business. But that's not what he really is. He's really a musician. And that's another reason why we're friends. He plays keyboard: rock, jazz and classical.
Some day Marty will retire from his job, probably move to the Caribbean and play music because he carries music in his noble soul wherever he goes.
His saga is about facing necessities, grounding himself in the things and people that matter and searching for the answers that quell the questions. His is the grand search. It's the search for meaning. It's an active search done through accomplishment and force of character.
His is a vigorous search. While my search is mainly intellectual, with my nose in a book, Marty will be gathering adventures like a collector. We are very different in our approach to life. And that's another reason why we're friends.
But if I ever scrape the money together to buy a clarinet and learn how to play it, I may join him in the Caribbean, stare at the palm trees and pelicans and make music.
DB - The Vagabond
Never give up.
************************
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