Cawfee Anyone?

I was watching an episode of Everybody Loves Raymond recently (I just love that show and King of Queens too). It was the episode where Ray’s father was participating in a Civil War reenactment. Ray wanted so much for his father to invite him to go along, and in a roundabout way he did. Ray wanted to go as a spectator, but his father got him to participate, only not as a Union soldier, but as a Confederate. It was so funny when Ray (with his thick New York accent) said, “Nobody is going to believe I’m from the south when I open my mouth and start talking.” It’s true, there is something about a New York City accent that is unmistakable; people immediately know where you’re from. For me, it’s like music. Whenever I hear someone speaking with a New York accent, I immediately think of home and family.

I remember in an episode of King of Queens, Karry wants to get a promotion at her job but she thinks her New York accent is holding her back. She decided to take lessons from a friend on how to say COFFEE and not CAWFEE. It was so funny watching her as she practiced until she finally mastered the correct pronunciation. My sister-in-law Debbie says CAWFEE and I just love it! My brother Rick and my niece Sandi also have great New York accents. But not me. I don’t have a New York accent. I guess I’ve been gone from New York too long. Or have I?

Blake, my former boss from Illinois, just loved it when my New York accent would “pop out” unexpectedly. He would get such a kick out of it. He’d say, “What did you say?” hoping I would repeat the word the same way. The word DAWTA instead of DAUGHTER comes to mind. He’d want me to say the word over and over again. He wasn’t making fun of me, he just liked the sound of it. I think he was enamored with the New York accent. One time when he came back from a trip to New York, he told me about a conversation he overheard while riding the bus. He heard one guy named Luigi talking to another guy and Luigi said, “Fa-get-a-bout-it” like only a New Yorker can say. Every day for weeks Blake kept saying that phrase over and over and over again trying to get it just right, in between asking me to say it over and over and over again. That overheard conversation left such an impression on him, he named a stray cat that he adopted Luigi.

I’m living in South Carolina at the moment. The people here have a southern accent, although not a real strong one like they have in Alabama. It’s an ok accent, but nothing can take the place of hearing words like CAWFEE and DAWTA to bring back thoughts of loved ones back home in New York. No one can pronounce words the way New Yorkers can. I imagine to this day, whenever the occasion calls for it, Blake can be heard saying, “fa-get-a-bout-it,” but he will never master the correct pronunciation. You see, only a New Yorker can do that.