Mountain Talk
Having been inspired during my senior
year in high school by a young basketball coach, a recent
graduate of North Georgia College, I decided to attend
North Georgia College, a military school. I had no idea how
difficult military discipline could be, but I adjusted and
received my bachelor's degree after four very challenging
years.
North Georgia College is located in Dahlonega, Georgia at
the foot of the Blue Ridge Mountains in northern Georgia.
At the time I attended school there, Dahlonega was not
commercialized as it is today. It was just a small mountain
town whose residents were dependent mostly on the college
for their livelihood. During my four years there I became
acquainted with many of the town folks. They all seemed to
be extremely frank and honest, unpretentious, kind, and
respectful of others. Although I talk with a southern
drawl, they had a dialect of their own which was even
difficult for me to understand at first. For the word
“fire” they said “far”, for “tire” they said “tar”. They
called a paper sack a “poke” because you poked things into
it . They talked about “you’ens” and “us’ens”. They had a
lot of expressions that would not be understood unless you
were from that area. After living there for four years, I
learned to understand them quite well.
After graduating from North Georgia College I went to the
University of Georgia to Work on a Masters Degree in
Mathematics. Here I met Joan, my future wife. One Sunday
afternoon soon after meeting Joan, I took her for a
sightseeing drive up into the North Georgia Mountains. It
was in the fall of the year and the leaves were
unbelievably beautiful. After a long ride on the winding
mountain roads we came upon an ice cream store. There was a
huge sign on top of the store portraying a polar bear with
neon lights flashing around him. It was a warm afternoon
and a crowd of what appeared to be mostly local folks had
formed a long line. Leaving Joan in the car, I joined the
line. As I got near the window where orders were being
placed, I could hear many of them asking for a “polar bar.”
Understanding how these people talked, when my turn came, I
placed my order for two “polar bears.”
The young girl at the window asked, “What’s that again?”
“Two polar bears, please.” I repeated.
The workers looked at each other.
“What does he want?” asked one of the other workers.
The young girl with amusement in her voice said, “He wants
two polar bears.”
While all this was going on, I read the menu sign overhead,
“POLAR BAR -10¢.”
“That’s two polar bars.” I corrected.
The young lady shook her head and sold me two ice cream
bars. I quickly headed back to my car as those in the line
turned to get another look at me.