Something recently happened that convinced me that somehow without realizing it. I’ve assimilated into the area in which I’ve lived for the past eight years. Never in my wildest dreams did I think that I would ever live in Kentucky, but then again, I never thought I’d live in any of the places I lived until I actually moved there.
Over the past 35 years or so, I’ve lived in 11 places in 7 different states, plus Washington, DC*, in a variety of homes (conventional, floating, and on wheels.) From very rural, like Newton, Alabama (pop. 1,500) to alluring, like San Diego, California, to bizarre, like Key West, Florida, and everything in between. That’s where Hopkinsville lies: in between.
The population, roughly 32,000, is mostly natives and just about everybody knows everybody. Just yesterday, while waiting for a friend at the doctor’s office, I saw and had conversations with three people I knew…and I’m not from here. The downtown district, cow pastures, fishing holes, and corn, soybean, and tobacco fields and, believe it or not, a scuba diving resort, are all less than three miles from my home. This is, by no means, the “country,” but driving home last evening around 6:30, I saw a deer race across one of the town’s main roads, 9th Street, and into a field.
I guess some sort of assimilation was bound to happen, considering I’ve lived in the South most of my life. After all, I say “y’all” from time to time and have actually thought in Southern terms, like “over yonder” and “fixin” for years. And even though my ears perked up when I heard my granddaughter say that “it was fixin’ to rain” the other day, I resisted the urge to correct her. After all, doing as the Romans did has served me well over the years.
Lately, though, I’ve caught myself speaking like the natives, and it startles me when I do. Me, a self-described grammar nazi. I almost couldn’t believe it when I used ‘theirselves’ in conversation with my daughter yesterday. Somehow, articulating it–as opposed to just thinking it–made it seem more real. I stopped in mid-sentence and even said, “That didn’t sound right.” Kate, a chip off the old block, noticed it immediately and said, “I was wondering if you were going to pick up on that.” Regardless of whether it was correct or not, the word rolled so smoothly off my tongue, it sounded right.
It’s probably because I’m originally from Missouri, the “show me state,” that I couldn’t rest until I researched whether or not “theirselves” is a word and, believe it or not, it is…as is the singular masculine, ‘hisself.’ Both are considered regional, “non-standard” English versions of the grammatically correct “themselves” and “himself.” You learn something new every day.
The truth is, I’ll never be a dyed-in-the-wool Southerner. Or Northerner, for that matter, since Missouri is considered the Midwest, and a border state at that. Having chosen to live a transitory life for most of my life, I’m different. By moving around and traveling a lot, I’ve met the most interesting people and have had a lot of experiences and adventures, certainly more than I’d have if I’d chosen to stay where I was raised. Instead of me growing deep roots, a lot of places grew on me. I feel so blessed. I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.
* Alabama (Newton), Florida (Key West, Pensacola, Gulf Breeze, North Palm Beach, Jacksonville), California (San Diego), Texas (Port Aransas), Mississippi (Bay St. Louis), Kentucky (Hopkinsville), and my home state, Missouri (St. Louis–south city. GO CARDS!)