When Mary-Margaret left Fort Wayne, Indiana for
parts west; well, okay, Phoenix, Arizona,
she discovered
that her friends, her family, hell, even her
middle school and high school science teachers
had lied to her.
It came with a visit to the local Safeway, when
she cruised down the fresh produce aisle looking
for a mango – for thus she had been taught to call
the bulbous green essential ingredient of Mary-Margaret’s
famous Chef Salad.
She stood engulfed in amazement, confusion,
and holy Midwestern embarrassment as she looked
at the mangoes arranged orange, red, yellow, and
green under a sign advertising BOGO Bell Peppers.
“What can this be? What can this mean?” she asked
the produce flunky stocking the zucchini and summer
squash in the sections appropriately labeled. “Why
do you list them as ‘Bell Peppers?’”
For whatever reason, for whatever insanity, Mary-Margaret
returned to the Summit City. Bearing a grudge, never
to forget the humiliation. She also came home with
a clear image of the tropical fruit… not the freaking
peppers! Mangos! Why, she kept fuming, do they
call them Mangos?!?
Yes, it’s true. We discovered this while living in the northeastern corner of Indiana, and found it also applies to some parts of Ohio as well: Some people – not all – refer to bell peppers as “mangoes.” Why? Dunno. Neither do they. Just thought it deserved a poetic reflection… such as it is.
HAHAHA!!!
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Well, we all have linguistic foibles… I used to drink pop and eat hot dish. …admittedly, this one is a little bit further out there….
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That absolutely required being in a poem.
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I know, right? I could do a whole chapbook on regionalisms.
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That could be really cool.
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Know a publisher?
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LOL! – Nope!
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🙂
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I love this!!! That would totally be me. 🙂
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It’s a true story… not that I was there when this happened to this person. But yeah… I always thought everyone called soda “pop.” …then I found out how everyone else was saying it wrong. 🙂
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Tha’s nowt as queer as folk, as they say in Yorkshire.
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No doubt, mate! And not as queer as some over here, either — bless their hearts!
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In my town we call everything by the name of the thing before it in the dictionary. We are a simple people, don’t judge uranus.
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I hope I wasn’t being judgmental in the writing… simply reporting what one local discovered once she strayed from home. As for localisms… where I come from we are replete with them. Soda is pop, anything in a casserole is a hot dish, and sentences would sometimes be garnished with a “you bet!” at the end of them (although that’s dying out now). I rejoice in the variety, and have experienced a fair sampling. Not judging, just reporting.
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Nice stuff for my Monday morning commute! Thanks for the laugh.
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You are welcome! Have a great day.
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