Columnist John Moore learned early what his mom meant when she spoke. He’s pictured with his mother in 1963. Courtesy John Moore

Being a kid in the South required being able to speak Mom.

For example: “We’re you raised in a barn?” didn’t actually mean, “We’re you raised in a barn?” (Although, it could mean that for some of my ancestors from Dardanelle.) The phrase was usually uttered when you left a door open.

Letting the heat out (we didn’t have air conditioning) was a major no-no. So, asking if you were raised in a barn was a reminder that you weren’t, and she’d better not have to tell you again to close the door whenever you came in or went out.

Southern moms also had phrases that were warnings of how close you were to getting a spanking. When a Southern mom said, “I brought you into this world, and I can take you out,” you didn’t question her authority. You straightened up.

When mom said, “You’re cruisin’ for a bruisin’,” or “Boy, I’m fixin’ to tan your hide,” that was usually all that it took to redirect a kid headed for trouble.

If those promises weren’t enough to turn around your behavior, she might threaten to tell your dad. A rare, but effective approach of last resort, which was usually accompanied by a reminder that your dad had the ability to, “Send you into next week.”

Food and manners were expected to go hand-in-hand. A Southern mother had little tolerance for rudeness at the table. She taught you to “Chew with your mouth closed,” and “Don’t talk with your mouth full.”

If you turned your nose up at dinner, she might say, “If you don’t eat what I cooked, you aren’t hungry.” And she meant it. “There are no short-order cooks living here,” she’d say. “Eat it or don’t.”

Going to bed hungry was always an option, but it was your option.

Although, I do remember on one occasion that my mom made liver and onions and my sister and I boasted that this was one time that we were gladly going to bed hungry. Which is something that we never should have said, because that made mom even more determined to see us eat what she had made.

And we did. And I don’t recall ever saying that again.

Faith is the backbone of most Southern homes, and our mom made sure we lived it.

“God don’t like ugly,” was something we heard when we weren’t acting our best.

But the Swiss Army Knife of Southern sayings is, “Bless your heart.” Nothing else says you’re in need, need prayers, or an idiot better than, “Bless your heart.” A close follow up to, “Bless your heart” was, “You ain’t got the sense God gave a goose.” A lighthearted way of saying you’re an idiot, but not a complete idiot.

When mom thought you were really getting out of line, she’d say, “You better pray about it.” A kind way of saying that you weren’t thinking something through, and we needed to talk to The Lord about it.

Cleaning and chores were serious matters. “This house won’t clean itself,” meant get after it.

“I’m not your maid,” was what you heard if you dared to walk past a full trashcan. And if you ever dawdled, she’d hit you with “Don’t just stand there like a bump on a log.”

“You look like something the cat dragged in,” was what you heard when you rolled out of bed too late, or if you put little-to-no effort into how presentable you were.

And perhaps the most practical advice of all: “You can catch more flies with honey than vinegar.” In other words, don’t be a jerk.

How you spent your time also had phrases. Phrases that most often originated with your grandmother.

“Idle hands are the devil’s workshop,” was a reminder of how you were allocating your time.

“There’s a time and place for everything,” was a way your mom would tell you to act right, no matter where we were.

“Don’t let the screen door hit you on the way out,” was mom’s way of telling you to get going, and “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all,” usually was said by mom right after you said something that you shouldn’t have said at all.

Moms didn’t put the responsibility of learning respect and hard work on teachers and textbooks (although, back then we learned it from there too). Both moms and dads made sure that we learned it at home. At the table, in the front yard, on the way to church, and anywhere else they had us.

A lot of what we needed to learn came from unique, Southern, words and phrases.

And now, all these years later, many of us find ourselves saying many of the same things to our own children and grandchildren.

“Because I said so.” “You’d better wipe that look off your face.” “Bless your heart,” are being passed down.

Bless our hearts.

By John Moore, author, Puns for Groan People and Write of Passage: A Southerner’s View of Then and Now Vol. 1 and 2, are available on his website TheCountryWriter.com, where you can also send him a message.

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