1) People Known for their Vehicles
I cannot count how many times this conversation took place at the store:
Customer #1 (Gene): Hey, Earl, I was at Taylor's the other day and I saw Johnny, he told me to tell you hey"
Customer #2 (Earl): "Johnny?"
Gene: "Yeah, you know Johnny, drives for Millis Trucking, lives up in Pine Log."
Earl: "Hmmmm, I can't call it. What does he drive?"
Gene: "That red Chevy 4x4, you know, the one with the wooden running boards and rebuilt 383 in it!"
Earl: "Oh yeah! Johnny! That son a gun don't play around, he quit school on account of recess!"
Then the conversation turns to Johnny's truck and how he could make it sound, run, and look better. Literally, people would not remember a man's name, but you mention his vehicle and the lightbulb comes on. If said person pulled up at the store, other men would go out to his truck and they would pop the hood. Then they would spend the next 20 minutes analyzing the various workings of the truck and discussing past repairs they've all made on their trucks. Groundbreaking stuff.
2) The Two Fingered Wave
You thought I meant two bird fingers, didn't you? Nope, those are reserved for your closest friends. Trust me, I have never waved at some people a day in my life, all they get from me is two birds. It's a sign of affection in Cassville. The "two fingered" wave is the Cassville way of saying hello as you pass one another on a two lane road. Since we all know each other by vehicle, it was pretty simple actually. When you got within 20-30 yards of the approaching car, you lift your index and middle finger off the steering wheel for at least 3-4 seconds. That was essentially saying, in this generation's terms, "what up, dog?" Non return of the two fingered wave would get you a tongue lashing on the benches at the store.
"Hell, I waved at Bobby yesterday, and that sumbitch just went on by me like I was his mother in law."
"Awww, you know he is getting stuck up lately. He just bought a brand new Dodge Ram, he a big shot now!"
3) Going to Atlanta/Atlanter
Whenever somebody had to go to Atlanta, it was a big deal. From the way they talked about it, you would think Atlanta was light years away, the people spoke in Sanskrit, and robbery was an occupation rather than a crime.
Roy: (with a hint of exasperation, like you've just been told you have a venereal disease): "Shooo, me and Pearl's goin' to Atlanter this weekend. Her cousin's sister's little girl is in a cheerleading thing down there. Boy, am I dreadin' it. Different world down nair (there)."
Delmas (with understanding compassion in his voice): "Damn, Roy, y'all better pack some heat. Leave the girls in the hotel after 6 PM, they'll knife ya down there."
If you are older than 60, you must say "Atlanter." You also have to include a disappointed inflection in your voice (like your car just got keyed, Dixie Speedway is closed for repairs or Natural Light went back to regular price). The "er" emphasizes your elder status in Cassville and shows your lifelong disdain for our state's capital. Those of us under 60 had to pronounce the word in full but we had to be sure we kept the inflection, because the older crowd could accuse you of actually liking Atlanta. That's how rumors start.
4) Work Caps
Many of the men in Cassville had jobs that required no desk. Most of them worked outside, in construction, landscaping, grading, you name it. Rather than a suit and tie, these men work t-shirts, flannel shirts, jeans and boots to the job. Since they spent so much time in the sun, most of them also wore hats. However, 99% of the men called them "caps." My Dad says "cap." Billy says "cap." It's just the way it is. Also, these men do NOT mix caps they wear at home with caps they wear at work. If they came in after 5:00, they would always be wearing a different, cleaner cap. It may even be the SAME cap, but they use one for work and one for home. These caps also had to be a certain style: sits tall on the head, advertise some sort of equipment, construction company, or race driver, and for the love of all that is holy, do not bend the bill. That is a sure sign you are not from Cassville. You got a black, mesh back, Caterpillar cap and a green John Deere cap? You are golden. Oh, and as far as race drivers go, NO Jeff Gordon. That's social suicide in the 30123.
5) Trips to the Emergency Room
People in small towns, Cassville included, LOVE to go to the emergency room. They live for it. They cannot wait to slice their finger off, smash it with a hammer, or develop some sort of unearthly sickness that requires an ambulance ride down to the hospital. You also need to have every single family member descend upon the waiting room like their are giving away free Travis Tritt tickets. Not just your immediate family either..... cousins, uncles, aunts, grandparents, nephews, nieces, everybody. They all have to sit around forlornly for hours and hours, take the day off work, and at least 3/4 of them have to smoke. This causes them to go outside and light up, which fulfills another requirement. They are able to intercept any and all people who may know you and they tell your harrowing ambulance ride story and what the doctors are saying about your chances of survival.
When you finally get out, you must come into the store with your hospital bracelet still on your wrist. This fulfills yet another requirement. Somebody, without fail, will ask, "what the hell happened to you?" The story is then repeated, with every sordid detail just a little more embellished than last time. It was like the guy caught a giant fish that got bigger and bigger every minute, except he laid in a bed that cost him $1,500 and had to pay for $120 worth of medication for bronchitis. Honestly, it was maddening to listen to these hospital stories, over and over. Sometimes, I would say, "Good Lord, how many damn times do we get to hear this?" The person would get angry and say something like, "who do you think you are?"
I'm the guy who does his job, you must be the other guy. (+1 for The Departed reference) God bless us.
I cannot count how many times this conversation took place at the store:
Customer #1 (Gene): Hey, Earl, I was at Taylor's the other day and I saw Johnny, he told me to tell you hey"
Customer #2 (Earl): "Johnny?"
Gene: "Yeah, you know Johnny, drives for Millis Trucking, lives up in Pine Log."
Earl: "Hmmmm, I can't call it. What does he drive?"
Gene: "That red Chevy 4x4, you know, the one with the wooden running boards and rebuilt 383 in it!"
Earl: "Oh yeah! Johnny! That son a gun don't play around, he quit school on account of recess!"
Then the conversation turns to Johnny's truck and how he could make it sound, run, and look better. Literally, people would not remember a man's name, but you mention his vehicle and the lightbulb comes on. If said person pulled up at the store, other men would go out to his truck and they would pop the hood. Then they would spend the next 20 minutes analyzing the various workings of the truck and discussing past repairs they've all made on their trucks. Groundbreaking stuff.
2) The Two Fingered Wave
You thought I meant two bird fingers, didn't you? Nope, those are reserved for your closest friends. Trust me, I have never waved at some people a day in my life, all they get from me is two birds. It's a sign of affection in Cassville. The "two fingered" wave is the Cassville way of saying hello as you pass one another on a two lane road. Since we all know each other by vehicle, it was pretty simple actually. When you got within 20-30 yards of the approaching car, you lift your index and middle finger off the steering wheel for at least 3-4 seconds. That was essentially saying, in this generation's terms, "what up, dog?" Non return of the two fingered wave would get you a tongue lashing on the benches at the store.
"Hell, I waved at Bobby yesterday, and that sumbitch just went on by me like I was his mother in law."
"Awww, you know he is getting stuck up lately. He just bought a brand new Dodge Ram, he a big shot now!"
3) Going to Atlanta/Atlanter
Whenever somebody had to go to Atlanta, it was a big deal. From the way they talked about it, you would think Atlanta was light years away, the people spoke in Sanskrit, and robbery was an occupation rather than a crime.
Roy: (with a hint of exasperation, like you've just been told you have a venereal disease): "Shooo, me and Pearl's goin' to Atlanter this weekend. Her cousin's sister's little girl is in a cheerleading thing down there. Boy, am I dreadin' it. Different world down nair (there)."
Delmas (with understanding compassion in his voice): "Damn, Roy, y'all better pack some heat. Leave the girls in the hotel after 6 PM, they'll knife ya down there."
If you are older than 60, you must say "Atlanter." You also have to include a disappointed inflection in your voice (like your car just got keyed, Dixie Speedway is closed for repairs or Natural Light went back to regular price). The "er" emphasizes your elder status in Cassville and shows your lifelong disdain for our state's capital. Those of us under 60 had to pronounce the word in full but we had to be sure we kept the inflection, because the older crowd could accuse you of actually liking Atlanta. That's how rumors start.
4) Work Caps
Many of the men in Cassville had jobs that required no desk. Most of them worked outside, in construction, landscaping, grading, you name it. Rather than a suit and tie, these men work t-shirts, flannel shirts, jeans and boots to the job. Since they spent so much time in the sun, most of them also wore hats. However, 99% of the men called them "caps." My Dad says "cap." Billy says "cap." It's just the way it is. Also, these men do NOT mix caps they wear at home with caps they wear at work. If they came in after 5:00, they would always be wearing a different, cleaner cap. It may even be the SAME cap, but they use one for work and one for home. These caps also had to be a certain style: sits tall on the head, advertise some sort of equipment, construction company, or race driver, and for the love of all that is holy, do not bend the bill. That is a sure sign you are not from Cassville. You got a black, mesh back, Caterpillar cap and a green John Deere cap? You are golden. Oh, and as far as race drivers go, NO Jeff Gordon. That's social suicide in the 30123.
5) Trips to the Emergency Room
People in small towns, Cassville included, LOVE to go to the emergency room. They live for it. They cannot wait to slice their finger off, smash it with a hammer, or develop some sort of unearthly sickness that requires an ambulance ride down to the hospital. You also need to have every single family member descend upon the waiting room like their are giving away free Travis Tritt tickets. Not just your immediate family either..... cousins, uncles, aunts, grandparents, nephews, nieces, everybody. They all have to sit around forlornly for hours and hours, take the day off work, and at least 3/4 of them have to smoke. This causes them to go outside and light up, which fulfills another requirement. They are able to intercept any and all people who may know you and they tell your harrowing ambulance ride story and what the doctors are saying about your chances of survival.
When you finally get out, you must come into the store with your hospital bracelet still on your wrist. This fulfills yet another requirement. Somebody, without fail, will ask, "what the hell happened to you?" The story is then repeated, with every sordid detail just a little more embellished than last time. It was like the guy caught a giant fish that got bigger and bigger every minute, except he laid in a bed that cost him $1,500 and had to pay for $120 worth of medication for bronchitis. Honestly, it was maddening to listen to these hospital stories, over and over. Sometimes, I would say, "Good Lord, how many damn times do we get to hear this?" The person would get angry and say something like, "who do you think you are?"
I'm the guy who does his job, you must be the other guy. (+1 for The Departed reference) God bless us.