I don't want to pick a fight ...

Many years ago I lived in Nevada.

No, not that Nevada. Not the state.

The Nevada I moved to is the town in Vernon County on the western side of Missouri south of Kansas City and north of Joplin.

Now that you know where it is, do you know how to say Nevada?

No, not like that Nevada. Not like the state.

It's Neh-VAY-da.

So for five years I tried to educate my distant friends and relatives on the proper pronunciation of the town where I lived. Some folks are quick learners. Others are not.

Missouri has more than its share of place names that look like they ought to be pronounced this way, but locals pronounce them that way.

I occasionally get calls from newspaper colleagues in places like Wilkes-Barre who have a question about earthquakes in New Muh-DRID.

They can show off their familiarity with Spanish pronunciation all they want, but I've been in Southeast Missouri long enough to break out laughing. Sometimes the person on the other end of the phone gets a little miffed.

But try saying "Wilkes-Barre" to the satisfaction of a true Pennsylvanian.

If you want to pick a fight at any gathering in Missouri, tell the assembled group why your pronunciation of this state's name is better than that other choice.

The Missour-EE-versus-Missour-UH battle has been going on for decades. Sometimes politicians get dragged into the fray.

But today I'd like to bring up another pronunciation situation that my wife swears only occurs in Southeast Missouri.

She grew up in west-central Missouri where the proper way to refer to others is "you all" -- or, in its more familiar Southern short version, "Yawl."

But there are parts of Missouri -- my wife says she never heard it until she met my Southeast Missouri relatives in the hills over yonder in the Ozarks -- that say "you-ins."

My mother disagrees.

Yes, one of her sisters used "you-ins" frequently, but who know where she picked that up? When my mother was growing up, she says, she and her siblings never used "you-ins" -- or "yawl" for that matter.

I tend to recollect that I found both "yawl" and "you-ins" to be foreign sounding when I was growing up.

My wife attributes her familiarity with "yawl" to her family's Southern roots. It took me a long time to figure out that her Southern roots go way past Hickory County.

It's interesting nowadays how sensitive my ears are to both "yawl" and "you-ins." When a waitress asks the big question -- "Are you-ins ready to order?" -- I immediately try to figure out if she's somehow related to me or knew my aunt long enough to teach her how to say "you-ins."

And when a waiter asks the same question -- "Yawl ready to order?" -- I am prompted to try to figure out how far north you have to be before the question turns into "All set?" -- which deftly avoids the whole you-ins/yawl linguistic quicksand.

I suppose you-ins have never given this as much thought as I have. And yawl are probably wondering why I don't get a life -- or at least do something about the concessions at the World Famous Downtown Golf Course. (Just so you know, I told them "Goldfish Surprise" wouldn't appeal to all-you-can-eat catfish-buffet palates.)

Only in Missour-UH.

Or, possibly, Missour-EE.

Someday I'll explore why so many natives hereabouts say they live in Cape Girard-UH.

R. Joe Sullivan is the editor of the Southeast Missourian.