First Person: Little Rhody Lexicon

Photograph courtesy of the Bromberg Family Archive

Not for nothing, whenever I return to Rhode Island over the decades I have lived overseas, my foreign language training is oddly useful. I appreciate how visitors to our state are often bemused and confused by our jargon. Even as a native, I find myself feigning polite comprehension, nodding in conversations until I reaccustom my ear.

Being the smallest state does not in any way diminish the outsized idiosyncrasies in our language. Our citizens proudly hold their own against Maine, Massachusetts and New York for proclaiming local lingo and articulating it in incomprehensible intonation. Nor should we feel inferior to Southern states for claiming a cadence that is immediately identifiable, if not languidly indecipherable. Translation: If the vocabulary doesn’t confound out-of-towners, our state accent will.

Initially, guests discover our extreme difficulty with the letter A. Even the remotest Amazonian rainforest tribe would likely recognize the inability of Rhode Islanders to pronounce an “a” followed by “r.” How else did we invent “cah” and “depaht” as the substitute for “car” and “depart?” In fact, we love the “a” sound so much, we include it in words where it doesn’t exist: “Cawfee, anyone?” Or we elongate it beyond its expected emphasis: Should I confess now that I am from “Craaanston?”

Then add our propensity to turn “chowder” into “chowdah,” while “America” becomes “Ameriker,” and you begin to appreciate our confusion. One wonders if instead of the terms long (hard) “a” vs. short (soft) “a,” linguists should christen the Rhode Island “a” as a unique category.

Nor do consonants escape manipulation. Example: “R and D” (and I don’t mean research and development). While we add “r” to words that do not claim the letter — “idear” for “idea” and “drawer” for “draw” — we eliminate “d” or slide it into another syllable. The “disappearing d” phenomenon
finds its greatest expression in “Cumberlinn” (aka Cumberland) while our “slider d” is memorialized in “Rho Dieland,” or how some locals announce our state.

Consider, too, our tendency to pronounce the “w” in “War-wick,” which is meant to be silent as in the England town of “War-rick.” How we somehow get to “Whoa-wick” is anybody’s guess!

Just as iPhones advertise the ability to simultaneously translate foreign languages for tourists, I wonder if we might not produce a RISpeak app or market BabbelRI? How much easier would it be for someone crossing our border to be provided with a dictionary of local terminology with bracketed pronunciation guides?

Here are my suggestions for inclusions in this RI Rosetta Stone:

All Set (awl•sett): While in royal circles this expression would refer to a table set with fine china, crystal and silverware, Rhode Islanders simply mean, “I’m OK, thanks.” This shorthand for “Everything’s good, I don’t need any help” is often used in our state even though many would bemoan they don’t use this affirmative expression as often as they used to.

Bang a U-ey (bang•a•ewe•eee): Police revenue thrives on the Rhode Island driver’s love affair with this illegal traffic gyration. Translating as taking a U-turn, this traffic “maneuv-ah” is another
unique expression I recommend be wisely included in our Division of Motor Vehicles driving test. These include a “RI Left”: gunning it when a traffic light turns green, and a “RI Red”: not the state bird, but speeding through a yellow light about to turn red. Drivers are also advised to turn on their “blinkahs” before executing any lane change, particularly difficult when trapped in “bumpah-tah-bumpah” traffic.

Photo via IStock/Getty Images/Ablokhin

Bubblah (bub•blah): This entry is interesting in that its spelling mimics its pronunciation even as it derives from the word “bubbler.” A quaint reference to the bubbling up of water in a drinking fountain, bubblah is local slang for sure. But we share it with our Massachusetts neighbors, typically accenting that second syllable longer.

Photo by Jamie Coelho

Cabinet (kab•e•nett): If you have gone to Home Depot in search of this, you are possibly in the wrong place. Rhode Islanders would most likely be at a local ice cream shop or Newport Creamery — though unbelievably no longer in Cranston’s Garden City Center! Placing an order for this ice cream confection known elsewhere as a milkshake is typically done in the state’s favorite ice cream flavor — coffee (oops, cawfee). This is itself another anomaly, as Rhode Island is alone among states in preferring this flavor to vanilla. Indeed, a coffee cabinet has earned its own Wikipedia entry. Yep, it’s right up there in between “Chaucer” and “Confucius.” Go Rhody!

Photo via IStock/Getty Images/Juanmonino

Grinder (grind•ah):  No, we’re not talking the gay dating app or a particularly lascivious lap dance. This term describes what in Philly is known as a hoagie and most everywhere else a sub. Alongside cabinets, Del’s, hot weenies, johnnycakes, pizza strips, stuffies, Wimpy Skippies and quahogs (a real tongue twist-ah!), this is true Rhode Island food slang. We love our long sandwiches typically loaded with Italian cold cuts. Due to space limitations, I’ll refrain from commenting on how we mispronounce those meats.

Jeet (dgeet): This contraction for “Did you eat?” appropriately follows my entry for food slang. The standard reply might be “No-joo?,” translated as “No, did you?” but fortunately, there are ample opportunities to assuage hunger as noted above.

ProJo (proh•joh): A fondness for abbreviation (packie for liquor package store is an example) leads us to shorten the name of The Providence Journal, Pulitzer Prizes and long history aside.

Photo via IStock/Getty Images/Shaunl.

Rotary (rho•tah•ree): Living as I do most of the year in the United Kingdom, I can reliably report that this traffic-directing invention is universally known as a roundabout. For some unknown reason, here it takes its name from the action of rotating endlessly around the circle of lanes trying to avoid an alternative state emblem: the pothole.

Where Benny’s Used to Be (wear-ah/ bennees/yoused/two/bee): The brand loyalty to which Rhode Island natives zealously adhere — did anyone believe Krispy Kreme would ever make it in a state that runs on Dunkin’?! — extends to giving directions to lost drivers. And so, bemoaning the inexplicable loss of stores we loved like Benny’s, we keep them alive by suggesting they still exist where their regrettable replacements now sit. Sorry, but we love our old discount stores.

Wicked (whick•ehd): While we may be the smallest state, we are big on recognizing excess. This intensifier term augmenting any condition to abundance denotes our predilection for superlatives. Substitute wicked for “very” or “really” and you get wicked “smaht” or wicked stupid — we don’t discriminate.

So, when you’re stuck in bumpah-to-bumpah traffic on a rotary with blinkahs flashing looking for Benny’s while thirsty for a bubblah and asking yourself “Jeet?,” think about banging a u-ey to buy the ProJo to read with your grindah and cabinet. Then rejoice in being all set as a Rho Dielandah. Not for nothing, you should be wicked proud.

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Mary Lioce-Narvell is a Rhode Island native now living in the United Kingdom.