New town, new tongue

We St. Louisans are famous for one phrase that out-of-towners claim speaks volumes about our city and its culture. That phrase, of course, "where did you go to high school?"

It's a polite way of asking about somone's neighborhood, class and often religion without coming right out and putting those indelicate questions on the table.

It's also a way of finding connections in a place that isn't much more than an overgrown small town. If you need more than two degrees of separation when playing the name game in St. Louis, you probably haven't been there long.

When I moved down to Cape Girardeau two months ago, I was curious what the local equivalent would be.

Within a few days of my arrival I got my answer.

I guess I have sort of an unusual last name. Greaney. Its origin is Irish, and it's not one you hear every day.

But until I came to Cape Girardeau I'd only ever been asked to spell my last name when I made dinner reservations or filled out a W-2 form. People generally just aren't that interested.

Down here though it's a different story. Social acquaintances, my landlord, the doctor -- they all asked me to spell out my last name and then listened attentively as if the letters would give them some new insight into my life.

Work was no different. When I went to cover my first city council meeting the mayor stopped business to make sure the whole town got it on record. "Greaney É now how do you spell that?"

After putting aside the irony of being asked to spell my name by someone who's own last name starts with "K-N-U," I found the whole thing kind of endearing.

It's an even smaller-town way of placing someone. People in Cape Girardeau seem to keep a mental tote board.

I guess when so many of the families have been here for generations, an unfamiliar name has to be pursed, then swilled around like a vintage wine.

It's kind of nice. Cape still boasts founding families whose trees branch back to French, Anglo-Saxon and German settlers, so names here hold a certain currency that's been lost in other places.

Now I take it as a compliment when someone asks me to spell my name. It's almost like asking to learn a little more about me.

That's not the only bit of culture shock a Southeast Missouri newbie encounters.

Geography is probably the toughest subject to master. The first time I pronounced Bollinger County with a soft "g" I got laughter for my effort.

I wasn't much more successful trying to pronounce town names like New Madrid or Cairo based on my remedial Spanish and knowledge of the pharaohs.

And I learned never, ever to say I'm enjoying life here in "the Cape," it's always just plain old "Cape."

I was even able to add some new Capeisms to my vocabulary.

I learned that uncertainty in Cape is expressed by "I'm not for sure," as in "I'm not for sure where I parked the car."

I learned that a place in time is marked with "whenever," as in "whenever I got my wisdom teeth pulled I was laid up for a week."

I don't claim to be fluent yet in the language spoken down on this part of the river, but I've got my own tote board of names, places and phrases. I'm starting to feel right at home.

TJ Greaney is a reporter for the Southeast Missourian.