MISSOURI WATCH: SEARCHING FOR UNCOMMONLY COMMON LANGUAGE

It is time for all good Missourians to follow the trail-blazing path of one of their congressmen, Bill Emerson, who has long insisted that English should be declared the official language of the U.S. government. Before you declare that Representative Emerson is only indulging in a bit of alien bashing, you had better know that 73 percent of the American public agree with him.

And so do I, except I don't think the congressman has gone far enough. Which is why I'm organizing the Society for the Preservation of English as It Are Spoken in Missouri, or to coin an aphorism, MoSpeak. I hope you'll join.

With all due respect to Congressman Emerson, the state he represents has less than two percent of its population who speak a language other than English. In fact, Missouri is one of the most Anglicized speaking states in the nation, ranking right up there with Utah, Vermont and Maine. It's pretty obvious that regardless of how desperately Congressman Emerson's proposal is needed in such places as California, Texas Florida and New York, we Missourians will remain pretty much oblivious to any well-meaning federal law designed to keep our lovely English language pure and unspoiled by foreign influence.

My problem with Congressman Emerson's suggestion is that it doesn't really attack the long-festering, malignant situation here in the Show-Me State. As the name of my new society suggests, we have a serious problem here in Missouri, where residents of 114 counties along with the City of St. Louis converse in almost as many languages.

Indeed, so diverse are our languages that residents of Kansas City are barely able to discern the subject, much less the meaning, of any sentence spoken by citizens living in the Bootheel. The diversity is so stark that even residents of the lower southeast quadrant of Missouri have difficulty distinguishing the mother language upon crossing county borders.

Linguists have long noted the difference between residents of New Madrid County, where Southern Drawl has been enshrined for generations, and citizens of Dunklin County, where Arkansan has been the official language since members of the Federal Boundary Commission became so anxious for a Bourbon and Branch that they declared several Arkansas counties were in Missouri so they could buy some Jack Daniels. To illustrate further the difference between adjoining counties in this area, the 1881-85 armed conflict in this country is known as the Civil War in Dunklin County and the War Between the States in New Madrid. Because there is no universal language, residents of adjoining Pemiscot county believe the war is still going on.

If there are semantic barriers among regional residents, consider the problems encountered on a daily basis between the citizens of St. Louis and the residents of various counties in Northwest Missouri. St. Louis was first settled by the French and the Dutch, and later on by Italians. While these immigrants settled in their own neighborhoods, eventually there had to be some visitation among the nationalities, particularly since the area's vineyards were destroyed by freezing temperatures in the late 1800s and the French were forced to secure alcoholic beverages from breweries established by the Dutch. Both nationalities eventually grew tired of their own cuisine and went down a Hill to enjoy the Italians' pasta and numbers games. You can imagine the language that soon became prevalent throughout this area, and having been associated with one of that region's residents for the past 45 years, I can tell you first-hand, the state is desperately in need of a standardized language. The long-time associate of whom I speak is still unable, despite years of tutoring, to pronounce several good Missouri words, such as "quarter."

Should a Central Missourian accidentally come across someone from an Ozarks county, it is possible for them to be together for hours and never understand a single sentence that is uttered. There are entire counties in Southwest Missouri where the King's English hasn't been spoken for decades.

This communications difficulty isn't insurmountable except when residents from all of the state's diverse regions gather in Jefferson City, where natives are primarily of Dutch persuasion and insist on foisting their culture on visitors, who very quickly grow weary of potato pancakes and sausage casseroles. After nearly five months in this environment, the visitors rush back home where the language is at least comprehensible and the environment is less foreign.

On second thought, maybe this diversity isn't so bad. Otherwise, the General Assembly would stay in session all year long.

Jack Stapleton of Kennett if the editor of the Missouri News and Editorial Service.