Sunday, September 19, 2004
My Accent Doesn't Suit Me
It was my aunt's wedding and he was one of my cousin's boyfriends. He, perhaps trying to prove to me that he was a 'friendly', told me he coached a local Little League team. He also promised he'd call me later that summer and let me know when the tryouts were. He promised, he really did.
I was thinking 'Who you fooling buddy? We both know these arms can't throw for shit.'
It was a long summer and he never called.
______________________________
"It's alright here, but most of the new friends I've made, make fun of the way I say my ar's. What's wrong with the way I say my ar's? How can I have an accent, I've never had an accent."
"Well you sort of say it like this aarrnh rather than awr"
"So you've noticed this?"
"That's why I always answer the phone Hey Maarrnhk when you call. You never caught on?"
"I just always thought you did that to be cute and endearing, I didn't think that's how I sound. It seems like I've only had an accent since I moved here."
"No, you've always had the accent. I've noticed since we first started talking."
"It's going to be really hard avoiding saying ar working at an arts library. How can I avoid saying 'card'?"
"I guess you can't."
"So for the last four years you've been making fun of me and I never noticed?"
"Yeah, I guess so."
_____________________________
I'm finally heading home. I'm elated and exhausted. Noone's available to pick me up, so I'm taking the bus home adding another leg to my trip.
I'm able to avoid conversation with the woman next to me on the bus for the first 6 hours of the 7 hour trip home, but she snares me in the last hour. She has been talking about her son and daughter to the driver and rating their relative merits. The son is lacking in ambition and the daughter is all booksmarts. She commends her son for being street smart and adomnishes her daughter for not being practical enough and that's when she starts in on me.
She begins asking me where I work, where I live, and what I'm doing. I tell her I'm working at an arts library in Alberta, but qualify that by saying my parents are from here. She asks me what sort of education I have. I tell her that I have an English degree. She asks me if I'm booksmart the same way people around here ask you if you vote NDP.
"____". My mouth opens and I just shrug. If I respond in the affirmative I'm just a jackass who thinks he's too good for everyone else. I'm no better than a 'come from away'. I just mumble.
"Yeah you're booksmart, I can tell." Which means I ain't got no goddamn sense.
________________________________
My grandfather started the first Little League in Canada. There's a field in our hometown named after him. It has a huge metal fence in right field called 'the Monster'. It's like some bizarro Little League version of Fenway. I only played there once and we lost.
I thought being related to him was enough. It really wasn't. I wouldn't be impressing anyone and I knew it so I kept it to myself.
_______________________________
I try to drink as much as my roommates' friends. I don't want to be the odd one out.
There's the belief that since we're all from the same hometown, we'll all get along. As if being in exile together brings you close. It may not bring us close, but it may be enough fodder for a night's conversation.
I'm not surprised when the topic comes up. It's inevitable given our hometown's problems in the past. It's a volataile situation and one that everyone has an opinion on.
I'm not surprised, I'm not shocked. I try to understand it, maybe see it from their point of view. A high school in their hometown still has a hockey team named "the Redmen". I can't understand it.
I can't really laugh because it's not funny. Despite the loudness of everyone else's laughter, they still notice that I'm not laughing.
"You're not offended are you?"
"You're not part..."
______________________________
My Grandfather will always be, to some, a man who talked too much about himself and accomplished too little. Too many dreams and too little to show for it.
I don't think that's the truth.
He wanted to bring Little League to his hometown. He became part of a footnote in baseball trivia. He sold land near his house to some developers. He wanted to bring a shopping mall to a swamp. One of them's a dream and the other vaguely resembles a dream. He achieved mixed results.
He felt like some people resented his dreams and were jealous of them.
I think just because it's your hometown doesn't mean you belong.
It was my aunt's wedding and he was one of my cousin's boyfriends. He, perhaps trying to prove to me that he was a 'friendly', told me he coached a local Little League team. He also promised he'd call me later that summer and let me know when the tryouts were. He promised, he really did.
I was thinking 'Who you fooling buddy? We both know these arms can't throw for shit.'
It was a long summer and he never called.
______________________________
"It's alright here, but most of the new friends I've made, make fun of the way I say my ar's. What's wrong with the way I say my ar's? How can I have an accent, I've never had an accent."
"Well you sort of say it like this aarrnh rather than awr"
"So you've noticed this?"
"That's why I always answer the phone Hey Maarrnhk when you call. You never caught on?"
"I just always thought you did that to be cute and endearing, I didn't think that's how I sound. It seems like I've only had an accent since I moved here."
"No, you've always had the accent. I've noticed since we first started talking."
"It's going to be really hard avoiding saying ar working at an arts library. How can I avoid saying 'card'?"
"I guess you can't."
"So for the last four years you've been making fun of me and I never noticed?"
"Yeah, I guess so."
_____________________________
I'm finally heading home. I'm elated and exhausted. Noone's available to pick me up, so I'm taking the bus home adding another leg to my trip.
I'm able to avoid conversation with the woman next to me on the bus for the first 6 hours of the 7 hour trip home, but she snares me in the last hour. She has been talking about her son and daughter to the driver and rating their relative merits. The son is lacking in ambition and the daughter is all booksmarts. She commends her son for being street smart and adomnishes her daughter for not being practical enough and that's when she starts in on me.
She begins asking me where I work, where I live, and what I'm doing. I tell her I'm working at an arts library in Alberta, but qualify that by saying my parents are from here. She asks me what sort of education I have. I tell her that I have an English degree. She asks me if I'm booksmart the same way people around here ask you if you vote NDP.
"____". My mouth opens and I just shrug. If I respond in the affirmative I'm just a jackass who thinks he's too good for everyone else. I'm no better than a 'come from away'. I just mumble.
"Yeah you're booksmart, I can tell." Which means I ain't got no goddamn sense.
________________________________
My grandfather started the first Little League in Canada. There's a field in our hometown named after him. It has a huge metal fence in right field called 'the Monster'. It's like some bizarro Little League version of Fenway. I only played there once and we lost.
I thought being related to him was enough. It really wasn't. I wouldn't be impressing anyone and I knew it so I kept it to myself.
_______________________________
I try to drink as much as my roommates' friends. I don't want to be the odd one out.
There's the belief that since we're all from the same hometown, we'll all get along. As if being in exile together brings you close. It may not bring us close, but it may be enough fodder for a night's conversation.
I'm not surprised when the topic comes up. It's inevitable given our hometown's problems in the past. It's a volataile situation and one that everyone has an opinion on.
I'm not surprised, I'm not shocked. I try to understand it, maybe see it from their point of view. A high school in their hometown still has a hockey team named "the Redmen". I can't understand it.
I can't really laugh because it's not funny. Despite the loudness of everyone else's laughter, they still notice that I'm not laughing.
"You're not offended are you?"
"You're not part..."
______________________________
My Grandfather will always be, to some, a man who talked too much about himself and accomplished too little. Too many dreams and too little to show for it.
I don't think that's the truth.
He wanted to bring Little League to his hometown. He became part of a footnote in baseball trivia. He sold land near his house to some developers. He wanted to bring a shopping mall to a swamp. One of them's a dream and the other vaguely resembles a dream. He achieved mixed results.
He felt like some people resented his dreams and were jealous of them.
I think just because it's your hometown doesn't mean you belong.
