Appalachian Word of the Week -- TAKE TO MY/YOUR/THE BED

Several of my friends are feeling the negative effects of spring. Sneezing, drainage, sore throats, red eyes, upset tummies, and headaches. One friend made a comment the other day that brought back memories of my childhood in the mountains.

She said, "I feel so awful I'm gonna TAKE TO MY BED."

Did you ever get up in the morning and decide you'd rather stay home from school and watch TV, play outside, or read a book? That's when you decided to put on the "I'm sicker'n a dog and can't go to school today" act.

I never tried that tactic -- except maybe a time or two when I wasn't ready for a big project or a test and needed extra time.

Take to your bed or couch

My brother and sister tried to pull a fast one on Mom often. But Mom was too smart for them. She pointed her finger in the direction of their rooms and said, "If you're that sick, then TAKE TO YOUR BED." They tried to argue they would feel better on the couch, watching TV, but she wouldn't have it.

"If you're too sick for school, you're too sick for TV. TAKE TO YOUR BED."

Now that I'm older, a lot older, I have days when I wish I could TAKE TO MY BED and forget about all the things I need to do. I know I have to really be sick to give in and TAKE TO MY BED, though.

Take to your bed when you're pooped

Of course, being sick is not the only reason to TAKE TO YOUR BED. Sometimes we get so pooped from chores and tasks on our To Do List, that we need to TAKE TO THE BED to get a bit of rest.

There are other reasons, too. Not MY reasons. But maybe one of yours. On those days, you might not make it far enough to TAKE TO YOUR BED. You may TAKE TO THE SOFA. Or TAKE TO THE FLOOR.

Was TAKE TO YOUR BED used in your family? Do you still TAKE TO THE BED at certain times?

Tell me about it. I'd love to hear your stories.

Appalachian Word of the Week -- WORSH

Today is WORSH day at my house.

Thankfully, it's not as difficult as it used to be during my childhood.

Do you remember WORSH Day?

Remember that old wringer WORSHER that sat on the back porch? It was a handy convenience, according to my mother. She remembered the day when they had to use a scrub board to clean the clothes at the river. I wasn't sure if I believed her hard-luck story back then. Now, I realize she described common practice in her day in Appalachia. Our WORSHER had wringers -- two round stick-like things -- on the back, above the WORSHER. You stuck the soppy wet clothes between the rollers, clamped them down, and it fed them through, squeezing most of the water out and back into the tub. It came out a bit flat and stiff.

Of course, my cousin discovered the hard way that those wringers would squeeze an arm and shoulder flat, too. Luckily, my aunt Joyce managed to stop the wringers before they pulled his entire body through. He ended up in a cast for quite a while after his smart little trick. I doubt he got anywhere near a WORSHIN' machine again.

After the WORSH had all been run through the wringers (Hmmm. Wonder if that's where they got that term), and mom stacked it in a laundry basket, she went out in the backyard to hang the WORSH on the line.

Lift the pole to raise the WORSH

Our line sagged across the yard from one pole to another. In the middle of the line, we had a pole with a cut-out on top, that could be adjusted to lower the line or raise it. Since Mom was only five feet tall, she had to lower the line enough to reach and pin the WORSH to the line. Of course, the pole kept it high in the air when not in use. Otherwise, it could decapitate an unobservant runner. In the least, it would smart right good.

Did you have one of those little bags that hung on your clothesline with the clothespins inside?

When I was old enough to help hang the WORSH, my arms ached by the time I had it all pinned up. To keep the WORSH from dragging on the ground, we'd take that pole with the notch in it, lift up the line, and stab the pole into the ground. Certainly didn't want that clean WORSH to end up draggin' the ground--or being low enough for the dog to grab hold of it and run.

After the sunshine spent the day drying the WORSH as the breeze flapped the WORSH around on the line, it was time to unpin it and put it back in the basket. Oh, how heavenly to draw that sun-dried WORSH to your face and breathe it in. Nothing like it. Not even Snuggle dryer sheets.

ARNIN' the WORSH

WORSH day was not complete yet, though. Some laundry could be folded and put away, but a lot of it had to be ARNED. We didn't have steam ARNS in those days, so we had a different method for arnin' the wrinkles out of our WORSH.

Mom had a sprinkler head made of metal. It looked a lot like the end of a watering can, except it had cork around the neck of it and could be inserted into a bottle. We used a Coke bottle. That means it could have been Coke, RC Cola, Sprite, Squirt, or Nehi. We called everything Coke.

We filled the Coke bottle with water and stuck the sprinkler head into the top. Then we sprinkled the dried clothes, one piece at a time, folded and rolled them into a tight roll, and stuck them into a plastic bag with a zipper.

The next day, we ARNED the WORSH and hung it up in a closet or chifferobe.

Now, every WORSH day didn't fall on a warm, sunny day. For rainy, cold, or snowy days, we had a line set up in the house. It stretched from the front room to the kitchen. To keep it from sagging, a hook on the doorframe to each room held it high. Maneuvering through the house was a tad tricky on those days. We had to be careful carrying coal to the stove, or removing ashes from the firebox. We also had to keep the WORSH away from the stove. Mom constantly reminded us, "Don't mess up that WORSH or you'll be WORSHIN' it again yourself." Nobody wanted to re-worsh anything.

Do you remember WORSH day when you were little? Or littler? Are you as thankful for modern washers and dryers as I am? Guess I shouldn't complain anymore about WORSH day, should I?

Tell me your stories. I'd love to hear them. 

Appalachian Word of the Week -- RINCH

Did your mama ever remind you to RINCH a piece of fruit before you ate it?

Do you know what it means? Or why she said it?

Since we grew a lot of our vegetables and fruits on the hill behind our house when I lived in Harlan County, I heard that word of warning often. I always wondered if my mom thought I was a bit deft and couldn't remember to RINCH the dirt off before I ate something fresh from the garden or whether she thought I was downright stupid and had to be reminded each time. Like when she reminded me to lock my door every, single, time we got in or out of the car.

In the mountains, we were instructed to RINCH everything.

Yes, I mean RINSE.

Pick a tomato without RINCHIN'

I never told my mom how many times I picked a ripe tomato and ate it on the spot without RINCHING it first. I swiped it on my shirt and hoped that would be good enough.

If she had known, she'd probably tell me that's exactly why I've had health problems. Wonder if she was right.

Carrots and onions were a different story, though. They had chunks of dirt hanging onto them. Thankfully, we had a spicket (spigot) outside for a quick RINCH.

RINCH your dish first

When I went to the kitchen to get a drink of water, Mom always reminded me to RINCH the glass first. I don't know if she thought dust had settled in it on the shelf or something else. Maybe it was because coal dust constantly filled the air and settled on everything. Or it could be the fear of a six-legged or eight-legged critter that had danced through the dishes and left germs behind from all those little feet.

Either way, I RINCH a dish even today before I use it for food or drink. Just in case.

RINCH the summer off your face

When we came inside after a hot summer day of playing and adventures, Mom always told us to RINCH the summer off our faces before dinner. Of course, she didn't tell us to RINCH our hands. That operation had to include some soap in the process.

It always felt good to RINCH off after a hot day. Get rid of the grime and salty taste of the sweat. Made you feel all clean and ready to start again.

Baptizing RINCHES you clean

Almost like getting baptized in a cool river. You go in all dirty from your life and come out RINCHED clean to start a new life with Jesus. Halleluah!


What things did you always have to RINCH when you were a kid? What things do you RINCH now?

I'd love to hear your stories.

Appalachian Word of the Week -- FLAHRS or FLARES

Spring is popping up in the mountains. Of course, in Atlanta, where I live now, spring comes about two weeks earlier than in my Kentucky mountains.

What joy it brings each year as the FLAHRS start popping out of the dirt and above the snow to add color, beauty, and hope after a frigid winter.

You know what FLAHRS are, right? Okay, some folks pronounce it FLARES and a few more citified people call them FLOWERS.

Granny used to come out onto the porch after a cold winter, sit in her rocking chair, breathe in a deep breath, and say, "Just look at them purdy FLAHRS popping up all over the place. Spring's sprung."

Snowdrops

Robins hopped between sprouting grass clumps as they searched for juicy earthworms. Buds of green appeared on the bare limbs of the trees. Critters chased each other in their spring mating dances, promising a new batch of varmints to chase out of the garden.

But the FLAHRS were what I waited for each spring. The bright yellow of the daffodils and forsythia echoed the sunshine with their warmth.

Wild violets

My favorite spring FLAHRS have always been the wild violets. I'm not sure if it is the purple of the petals or the game of rooster we used to play with them that made them special. Did you play rooster? That's when you and a friend take a violet and interlock their heads; then you yank your violets by the stem. The one whose violet still has its head wins.

Other favorite spring FLAHRS included iris, peonies, and the FLAHRin' trees.

What are your favorite springtime FLAHRS?

Appalachian Word of the Week -- APPALACHIA

This week's word is not a word few people outside of Appalachia recognize. It's about a word few non-Appalachians know how to pronounce correctly.

This week, I was honored to record an interview for Speak UP! radio, a division of Christian Devotions Ministry. The interviewer, a Yankee, mispronounced APPALACHIA. I gave him a trick to pronouncing it correctly. Hopefully, he will never forget.

Now, most of us from the mountains know how it's pronounced. Just in case, I'll give you the trick.

APPALACHIA is pronounced as if you were telling someone, "Say it right or I'll throw an APPLE AT CHA.

Chun Li, street fighter

Now, isn't that easy? Of course, if you're saying APPALACHIAN, all you have to think is APPLE AT CHUN. I don't know who CHUN is, but if it's Chun Li in this photo, it might take more than one apple to stop her. The walls look like more than apples have been thrown at her already.





Is this how you say APPALACHIA?

If not, how do you say it? And who told you that was the way to pronounce it?

I mentioned above that I did an interview. If you'd like to hear a bit about my rearing and my struggles with chronic illness, I put the link for the radio show below. You can listen anytime.

Tune in to Speak UP! radio for an interview with Karen Bell


If you listen, I'd love to have your feedback. Tell me about your adventures and challenges growing up in APPALACHIA.

Or, tell me about the joys you remember.

I love hearing from you.

Appalachian Word of the Week -- ROAS'N'EARS

Yesterday, as I sat thinking about what I could fix for supper, ROAS'N'EARS came to mind. How I'd love to have a couple right now.

Do you know what ROAS'N'EARS are? How about if I spell them out instead of how we pronounced them? ROASTING EARS.

Now do you know?

Some people boil their corn and stick little handles in each end to hold them without getting their hands dirty--or to keep the oozing butter from sliding down to their elbows.

These days, most people stick them in the microwave to cook, husk and all.

ROAS'N'EARS - roasted corn

But, back in the day, we removed the silk and stuck our ROAS'N'EARS on an open flame to roast them. Sometimes, we'd removed the shucks and roast them right on the grate over the fire. Either way, it was necessary to rub butter all over the ROAS'N'EARS and sprinkle some salt before we dug into them.

One of the best places to get ROAS'N'EARS was at the Poke Sallet Festival in Harlan, Kentucky. They grilled them on coals outside, wrapped in their husks. To eat them, you peeled back the husks and use them as a handle. Oh, my. Scrumptious. And you could smell them roasting all down the street.

Roasting on the grill

I'm getting hungry just thinking about it.

My mom hated fixing ROAS'N'EARS. Why, you may ask? She was terrified of shucking the corn and finding a worm or packsaddle inside. She made us do the shucking ourselves and swear there were no varmints inside.

Come to think of it, she had trouble enjoying eating them, too. I guess she thought we'd leave a worm in her corn just to terrorize her. No way! She was little, but she was fierce.

How do you prepare your ROAS'N'EARS? Do you boil, microwave, or roast?

I'd love to hear your ROAS'N'EARS stories.

Appalachian Words of the Week -- Mountain Medicine

Since before Christmas, I have been one of the many victims of the flu. I imagine a lot of you have suffered right along with me.

As I struggled to find anything to rush the healing process -- and survive -- I willingly tried a pharmacy of products. Nothing really helped. I found myself going back to the days of my childhood in the mountains and trying some of the MOUNTAIN MEDICINE my parents gave me when I got sick.

Instead of running out to the doctor for penicillin, about the only thing they prescribed back then, my parents utilized the MOUNTAIN MEDICINES they grew up receiving from their parents.

Do you remember these?

SALTWATER GARGLES for a sore throat -- As soon as a tickle appeared in my throat, Mom grabbed a glass of warm water and added some salt for me to gargle. I suppose it helped. It taught me how to gargle without swallowing, at least.

VICKS SALVE for coughing, sneezing, and sniffling -- Oh, how I remember getting that stuff plastered all over my chest, back, neck, and into my nose. Bleh! I hated it. But I do remember being able to sleep some after using it. I used it every night when my flu was its worst.

Cola Syrup for upset stomach

COLA SYRUP for upset stomach -- Daddy crushed some ice, put it in a big spoon, and poured pure cola syrup over it. I then swallowed it. At least it was sweet and felt good going down. Not sure if it kept me from writhing in pain from a stomach ache or stopped me from throwing up.

SWEET OIL -- Remember earaches and the cure? Warmed sweet oil, poured into your ear and topped off with a wad of cotton stuck in your ear to keep it inside. That stuff felt really weird as Mom poured it in. It felt like a bug in my ear. I usually fought her off -- briefly. She always won.

Slippery Elm Bark Tea

SLIPPERY ELM BARK TEA -- Daddy went into the mountains and collected some slippery elm bark. The inside of the bark was rather slimy. He cut up the strips of bark with his Case pocket knife and made a tea out of the bark, strained it, and added honey. It tasted a bit earthy, but it did soothe the throat. Unfortunately, you can't drink it 24 hours a day.

I have since learned you can purchase slippery elm bark tea bags at the grocery store or health food store. The one I use is called Throat Coat. I keep some on hand for those times when my throat starts to tickle. It is used regularly by a lot of professional singers.

Potato Soup-Mountain Penicillin

POTATO SOUP FOR ALL THAT AILS YOU -- Any time I felt a bit off, Mom brought out a big pot and started peeling potatoes and onions. When I couldn't keep anything else down, I could usually eat potato soup. It was gentle on an irritated tummy. I suppose it's the Mountain version of the Jewish Penicillin (chicken soup).

Still today, when I don't feel quite right, I yearn for a pot of potato soup.

And yes, I made a bit pot while I was sick. I even had a bowl for lunch today, with a bit of cheese and bacon added. Guess that means I'm getting better.

Special Brew Mountain Medicine

SPECIAL BREW -- When nothing else has worked, it's time for the special brew. Yep. White Lightnin' medicine will heal anything. Of course, even if it doesn't heal you, you won't care after you take a few doses!

What MOUNTAIN MEDICINE did your parents use to heal you when you were fellin' poorly?

I hope you're fit as a fiddle now and I'd love to hear your stories.