>Fine, I’ll admit it. I”m a sucker for a New England accent. I secretly practice it under my breath. I love how New Englanders are so in charge, so secure in who they are, they feel no shame in changing the pronunciation of our language. They drop “R”‘s like a bad habit. They find “O”‘s to be dull, so they add an “AU” instead. I love the harsh, slightly snooty Bostonian, the gentle rounding of New Hampshire’s vowels, Vermont’s coaxing of consonants and Maine’s sharp stops and starts. Each true to their state, but with a undercurrent of unity only found in those regions far reaching into our country’s northeast.
New England accents made me do crazy things. Like day-dream of blueberry cobbler for breakfast- with the berries picked along the shoreline during an early morning walk. Buy only pine-scented candles in a vain attempt to capture the green mountains’ scent and infuse it into my New Jersey house- resulting in a sickening smell of a dying Christmas tree sprayed with Pinesol. Try to imagine how we can add an addition onto the back of the house that looks like a log cabin. Oh, and of course, eat “laubsta” for “dinna” every night.
Perhaps it’s because every New Englander I’ve ever met laughs and talks a lot. And drinks a lot. And eats a lot. With a lot of friends and family. A lot. And repeats the process each and every day and I can’t really imagine how life could get any “betta” than that.
Bah Hahbah, here I come.