Language Investigation One

Growing up in a large family, different personalities and unique experiences serve as a catalyst for colorful diction and ways to identify the members of my family as distinctly different from anyone else.
Scattered across the country, my family finds time to get together every summer on the coast of Jonesport, Maine. Jonesport, a tiny town nestled on the water, holds memories, stories, and three houses belonging to my relatives. Being up there secluded from reality clears the mind and always encourages slight changes to normal vocabulary. Not words, in particular, but phrases identify landmarks of our family and this place. For instance, if someone was wondering where "the big ol' handsome man" was, we'd know he was probably fetching sticks at Sandy River Beach or lazily patrolling the gardens; he is the most lovable Bernese Mountain dog to ever serve as a watch man. "The Big House" refers to the Bed and Breakfast my family bought many years ago that we use as a house to fit our ever expanding brood. "The Big Five" was the way my grandfather instilled fear in me and my cousins. When we were little, he told us the story of how my dad lied about something as a child and as a result, got "the big five," a spanking prohibiting him from sitting for the next week. "Fallen Angel" is the nickname of our cousin Bella, a title acquired after an miscommunication during Pictionary. Another cousin, Fallon, is a gifted dancer and agreed to teach us one of her numbers. To the song, "Shake Your Tambourine," she tried unsuccesfully to demonstrate the "shakey shakey drop;" two steps forward, some hip shaking, and a head throw, dropping to one side.
At home in Denver, we have a whole different dictionary. Names for our dog is the category of words that changes most often. Our 2 year old vizla, Copper, is frequently called Cop, Copper Doo, Copper Dudest, Dudest Man, Moodest, Moo... mostly any variation on the words dudest and moodest... There is no definiton or reason for any of these names that he chooses to ignore, they are just the creative name manipulations of my younger sister. Backing up to my earlier years in Houston, the other pets we had were cockroaches, "walkin' bees," is the term I coined at one and a half.
On a sad note, we all know what "the anniversary" is. Not a wedding or a birthday, "the anniversary" is March 10, the day when, 7 years ago, my dad was killed in a skiing accident. I think of him on "blue sky days" when clouds are non-existent as we ski. His grave is in Jonesport, on a hill overlooking the marina. Every year we return to "The Big House" to celebrate what we still have and honor those things time has washed away.