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I'm the brat on the right--this is me and Staci, when we were about five and seven (or so) years old. Hesperia, CA. |
I ran up to my folks, my feet bare, and when my mom tried to comfort me and asked what was wrong, I blurted out, "THEY CALLED US 'Y'ALL'!!!" Apparently, in the infinite wisdom of a five year old, I thought our cousins, who were only a little bit younger than us and who had grown up in Texas, were calling us names. Everyone burst out laughing, which was confusing for me, while my mom explained that "y'all" just means "you all" and that my cousin was just addressing both of us, not insulting us. Ugh, embarrassing. . . thankfully, little kids don't hang on to embarrassment the way adults do.
Looking back on it now I laugh, particularly since I've been living in Texas for 14 years in June and though I swore when I moved here that I'd never lapse into y'all's, I have. I use it so much that I hardly notice it anymore. Still, it's one of my better memories now. We went to Texas every year when I was a kid to visit my grandparents, but this particular memories stands out the most in my mind. Maybe humor is some kind of fastening agent for memories. Wouldn't that be ironic? A pessimist with the ability to most vividly remember the funny things!