“My nose itches, I smell peaches. Someone's coming with a hole in their breeches. First one to say a word has to patch 'em!” This saying has swirled around in my household for as long as I can remember, popping up anytime my grandmother finds that she has a sinus “inflection,” as she calls it. Terms such as “cornpone” (cornbread cooked in a small pan) and “chaw” (chewing tobacco) and other adapted words like “afeared” (afraid) and “flusterated” (a hybrid of frustrated and flustered) mix together to form a tapestry that cements my family's origin in the lower Appalachian mountains.
The warmth of Appalachian English binds us in ways that our pointed, impersonal standard English simply cannot. However, both serve purposes: the former for family, the latter for business.
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