ToMAYto, ToMAHto, it's still a BLT.

Have you ever thought of something one way your whole life and suddenly find out you had it wrong? I think it happens to avid readers who have increasing vocabularies. They see these new words used and understand the context but never actually hear them pronounced. One day, during a conversation, they confidently use the word. If the listener doesn’t know better, they accept the word, understanding the meaning, and have a mispronunciation cemented into their brain.

Eventually, and, if they’re like me, it could be a half century later, they hear the word pronounced correctly and suddenly, a flood of mixed emotions occur.
Confusion: is that the same word?
Embarrassment: I’m so stooped.
Anger: why didn’t anyone correct me?
Guilt: so many of my friends are mispronouncing that word.
Humiliation: a room full of people just laughed at me
Relief: now I can pronounce it correctly.

Here’s an example that’s been smacking me in the face recently: Adirondack. (go ahead – say it)

I’m now in the New England area but was raised in the south. First of all, who knew it was a place? Second, It’s a fancy word for porch chairs. Why not just call them porch chairs? It’s a word you will NOT hear around the BBQ pit in Smalltown, Mississippi. And if you do, you might hear it pronounced A-deer-un-dack.

So help me if you just snickered I hope you forever hear that pronunciation whenever that word comes up in conversation. I condemn you to mispronunciation Hades! Not really. I snicker at myself. But every time I see the word it takes me a huge effort, and usually a couple of tries, to pronounce it correctly. Adder-ON-dack. Well poo-poo to you! It reeks of Camelot. I’m sure all of their porch chairs were Adirondacks.

I could probably come up with many more examples. One of my sons’ vocabulary grew faster than he could pronounce so he said words like “kangaroof” and “panshoe” (shampoo). That was cute but I always corrected him. I don’t believe in letting a child mispronounce a word because it’s “cute”. One overweight child asked me for “bizert” as if he really needed “bizert”. But I promised him some if he could just pronounce it correctly. (Then he got applesauce.)

On a recent road trip, I was enjoying the free breakfast at my favorite hotel when I couldn’t find “normal” tea to brew. I’m not a tea snob but I’m not a trendy drinker either. And I’m not an Earl Grey fan (please forgive me fellow tea lovers). I approached the front desk clerk who was talking to an older woman (about my age) with a frou-frou dog. (It's a pet friendly place. )

“Do you have any regular tea?” I asked with typically bold Southern charm that conjures up visions of redneck mixed with “am I sure of what she's asking?” sprinkled with “is she unstable?”

“All that’s over there is Earl Grey and Orange Pekoe” I’m plowing right through despite the confused looks on their faces.

The lady holding Poopsie further away from me now looks down her nose and, almost with a British accent, almost starting with “my deeah” says “There’s Orange Pekoe” But she pronounces it “peck-OH”.

That threw me. Had I been pronouncing it incorrectly all my life? I mean literally all-my-life because my brainiac sister and her best friend were highly into teas as young Bohemian teens, before Bohemian was vogue- it was embarrasing. (They relished in pronouncing Fermosa Oolong, which I discovered recently is one of my favorite teas.)

Poopsie’s mom continued, “That merely describes the leaf…” and she either trailed off or I was too busy watching the internal re-firing of my brain synapsis to take it all in. Orange is not orange? Pekoe is not Pea-koh? and (most importantly) There’s regular tea over there after all?

As soon as I could, sitting quietly at my desk the following week, I looked up the correct pronunciation of Pekoe and found that Pea-koh is correct. I snickered at her ignorance and felt better about the porch chair thing.

As I write this entry, I just double-checked the significance of Orange as the snobby dog-mom had explained. And you know what? We were both correct. But apparently her pronunciation is “more apt”. That just chaps my hide. She wins this round.

I bet she could teach me a thing or two about tea. I’m pouring through my tea catalog and wishing she were here. There are about 40 pages of teas to choose from and only two Orange Pekoes. Great.

As I puzzle through teas from places I never knew produced tea, my little mutts snooze in their beds. I'm sure they could easily take Poopsie in a fight. But I'm equally sure they'd rather be friends. One thing’s for darn sure. We never stop learning.

It’s nice out. I’m going to fix me a glass of sweet tea and sit out on porch. Wouldn’t mind some of those fancy porch chairs but I’ll make do. Cheers!