There was an article in the paper today about the disappearance of the southern accent.

In fact, there are classes on how to rid oneself of the slow, honey-dripped drawl or the NASCAR twang.

It puts me in mind of my own love-hate relationship with my voice. I can turn on that middle-America broadcaster voice whenever I want (having tried to perfect it when I was broadcasting, back in the long-ago when I used my “radio voice” on my radio shows). But over the years I’ve come to love the way that certain words, phrases, and vowel sounds come out of my mouth – even when listeners look quizzical and wonder what language I was uttering. But it wasn’t that way for a long time.

It all goes back to fourth grade. My teacher – a wonderful lady, really – asked me to read the vocabulary words for the week. They were the Long-I words – you know – wine, fine, dine, mine?

Of course what came out was something on the order of wahn, dahn, fahn, mahn….

Her reaction was priceless. And yet, to me – was ultimately very costly. I set upon a mission to rid myself of this voice that seemed to make people laugh.

During my high school and college days, no one could tell where I was from. And when I turned on the broadcasting voice… well, people listened.

But I missed what I once was. And my husband helped me find that little 9 year old girl again. He loved the fact that I came from ‘near Mayberry’ and that some particular turns of phrase I used were old – and were a nod to the old Scots dialects of the diaspora of the ’45.

I now love how my voice takes on the characteristics of the old homeplace. You can certainly hear it whenever I’m back home – or just talking to someone on the phone. But it also comes out when I’m happy or relaxed.

I still have my ‘broadcaster voice’ – and that’s ingrained in me now – and has become a part of me that I can’t deny. But even that voice has softened and has regained that lilt from the past

I love what I hear now. Because I no longer try to hide it. And I find it sad that I ever felt that I needed to.

And I find it sadder that people are taking classes to make themselves sound less Southern – as though it will make them sound smarter.

I tell you what – some of the wisest people I know say ‘y’all’ and ‘ain’t’ and ‘cain’t.’

And I hope that never changes.