The Old Coot Takes A Language Lesson
By Merlin Lessler
I had a conversation in Owego-speak the other day. It’s a
language I’ll never be fluent in. It’s spoken by native Owegoites. They give
you the genetic history of anybody whose name comes into the conversation. “Oh,
there’s Tom Smith,” the Owegoite declares. “Who’s he?” you naively ask. “You
know,” they respond, in perfect Owego-speak,
“His sister’s, husband’s, first wife is the one who set fire to the house next
to the Great American.”
Now you’re confused. “Where’s the Great
American?” you ask, in a puzzled voice. “It’s where the CVS is now,” they
explain. You start to get a little irritated. “Why didn’t you say, next to
CVS?” But you’ve been down this road before. You chide yourself for not keeping
your mouth shut. You know you’ve just kicked off a whole new round of Owego-speak. They pick up your fumble
and take off down the field, “Because it wasn’t the CVS when she lived there,
DUH!” They go on and on, entwining more local names into the discourse, ending
with, “And, it doesn’t matter anyhow because she now lives on Front Street.”
You do it again; you ask another open ended question, “Where on Front Street?”
- They reply in Owego-speak, “Across
the street from the Bassett house. I lived in the Bassett house when I first
moved to Owego. Then I moved to the Ross – Farrington – Loring - Rutherford
house, depending on who you are talking to. You never live in your own house in
Owego-speak.
