Born a Shakaaahgoan to parents who, considering the number of times we moved when I was a child, must have been perpetually on the lamb, Chicago is my kind of town…kinda. I lived in several different neighborhoods in the Windy City growing up, and although I was primarily a north-sider/Cubs fan, I also lived for a short time in Bridgeport. For those of you who are unfamiliar with Chi Town, Bridgeport is White Sox turf…da sout-side, and dats where da Shakaaahgoh talk’s da werst.
My dad was a Greek emigrant, and like all of his kind, he was forced into restaurant ownership when he relocated from Greece to Chicago as a teenager. He eventually purchased a family restaurant on 35th and Halsted. I sometimes wonder if all these Greek owned dining establishments were arranged in tandem with Sisyphus.
Back to me. I was an aspiring thespian in my youth, and as such, I had a mountain of regional linguist hurdles to overcome. Until I started traveling with my real job, I thought my regional dialect was under wraps. No one could possibly tell where I was from by my speech patterns. Ha and ha. One rarely hears regionalism in their own voice unless it is pointed out. I can clearly hear it in others, but never in my own perfectly controlled diction. The graceless Chicago nasal twang with its slurred vowels and blended words isn’t the most musical of regional dialects to be stricken with. It’s not sexy, and I worked tirelessly to lose mine…because we all want to be sexy? No— pay attention. I was a perspiring lesbian…no— I was an aspiring thespian.
Having long since given up my theatrical pursuits, I also have given up my fight against the dialecto that I was born into. The more emotional, or tired I am, the thicker it gets, an Gaaahd help me if I’m hangin out with my peeps.
The moral of today’s post is that while you can put lipstick on a willing pig, it will not stay on unless you purchase an expensive fixative.
*Disclaimer: For those of you who are unfamiliar with my sarcasm, there is not a US governmental policy that forces Greek immigrants to open restaurants.
_________________________________
The DailyPost, January 19, 2016, Daily Post: Can’t Stand Me~ What do you find more unbearable: watching a video of yourself, or listening to a recording of your voice? Why?<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/cant-stand-me/”>Can’t Stand Me</a>
Wonderful post! I live in the “Shakaaahgoh ” area, so I know the dialect. Some have it worse than others, but it is distinctive. I grew up with the flat nasal Midwest sound that talking heads want. It’s so dull that in my early aspiring thespian years I always wanted to play the roles with an accent. Never worked. Maybe that’s why I never got that Academy Award. Hmm. Check out this site when you’ve got nothing better to do than to contemplate all the regional dialects spoken in North America. Put together by someone with serious spare time (not me).
http://aschmann.net/AmEng/