What's in a word?

Years ago I used to lecture at the University of Connecticut. Invariably my students would gently mock my pronunciation of such words as "out" and "about" or raise a Spockian eyebrow at expressions such as "going down cellar" or "heading back north". Luckily I was smug enough to be assured that my way of saying words or use of figures of speech was, if not the norm, a sign of my excellent use of the Queen’s English (the King died when I was just a baby so I can’t claim to have picked up much from him!). After all, growing up, I knew that all of the TV news commentators from the U.S. sounded like they had been educated in Toronto—what could be more affirming than that?!

Imagine my shock the other day when my son Quinn asked me to make him an "Ang-glish" muffin. It all of a sudden occurred to me that Quinn, who has lived more than half of his life in Bermuda, had developed his own dialect that was an interesting blend of that of his school friends and his family.
In doing so, he had captured an interesting and somewhat unique aspect of life in Bermuda—a compact society, almost exclusively English speaking, with a global range of pronuncia-tions, expressions, and distinct vocabulary.

The lingua franca at Somersfield (which is a great microcosm of the country) is characterized by anglophones from the United States, Great Britain, Canada, Australia, New Zealand, South Africa, etc. all blended in with the distinctive lilt, cadence and expressiveness of native Bermudians. Our spellings see "u’s" added and dropped (honor, honour); z’s become s’s (organize, organise) and vice versa; "me" coming and going from programme; and even a titanic struggle for su-premacy between "zee" and "zed". One set of teachers tells students to "review" their work, while the other says to "revise" it. Petrol/gas; football/soccer; suspenders/braces, it is amazing that we can communicate at all!

My conversations are now peppered with expressions such as "no worries" (I used to say "no problem") , "brilliant" ("terrific"), and "sar" ("I am terribly sorry"). And I have learned a lot of unique Bermudianims as well: now I know how to "rest it down"; "cut cross" in a conversation; or trust my "first mind". No Canadian would ever use the word "coolish" (especially for temperatures that we would call "hot"!) and I am getting used to driving my "onliest" car. Where does all of this come from? The dialects that we hear all around Bermuda are a product of the islands’ rich heritage and history and its role as a cross-roads for the English-speaking world. Some things don’t change though. When Quinn reminds me at breakfast that he "axed" for an muffin, he is pronouncing the word exactly as Sir George Somers would have 400 years ago.

That is the richness, and persistence of language.

Running on Empty

It seemed like such a good idea at the time! Here I was in my last year in Bermuda and I had never run the “triangle”. Now let’s be clear, in high school I was always that kid who was timed with an hour glass rather than a stop watch, and I can testify from experience, that unlike the fable, in the real life of track and field, “slow and steady” never wins the race! I had a fair amount of success in international rowing (after all, you got to sit!) but the part of that regimen that I hated the most was the post-workout run!


Having said all that, it seems that in spite of my history, lured in by the enticing weather and the beautiful landscape, in Bermuda, running, for me, had become a bit of a hobby.

So, I gradually became a non-competitive (that is never in real competition as a top finisher), competitive runner. My biggest asset was my age which kept propelling me into less and less populated categories (Master, Senior Master, Over the hill, etc.). So I can usually claim to have finished in the top ten in my class. Over the last three years, I have run my share of races (my running resume sounds like a who’s who of corporate sponsors—Bacardi, Butterfield and Vallis, Fidelity Re, RenRe, Fairmont, Lindos, etc). I had even run four half-marathons (two Bermuda Day and two Bermuda Internationals). But the idea of running over 20 miles within a day and a half had always seemed a bit over the top. Until this year when, in spite of my track record, and my spotty training schedule, I decided to take the plunge and sign up for the mile, the 10K and the half-marathon—the Triangle Challenge.


Fortunately two other staff members, Taryn Pringle and Alison Beaulieu had also signed up so I knew that there was at least someone who could give my name to the paramedics! The weekend was a bit of a blur. Running the Front Street Mile in a thunderstorm; over stretching myself in the 10K, and then facing down the half-marathon. I wasn’t first, but I wasn’t last. My times were respectable, and I was given boost after boost from a host of friends and total strangers who cheered me on along the route.


So what were my “take-aways” from the experience? I was reminded, once again, of the significance of adequate (or inadequate) preparation for every challenge that you take on. I got the opportunity to share in the camaraderie of collective accomplishment. I felt the satisfaction of pushing my limits and trying something new and challenging. And, I was amazed as always, at the generosity of spirit that characterizes our community; a spirit that stands in the rain to support friends and family, and cheers on strangers mile after mile along the route. Thanks from all of us for being there!