The three of them were just chatting a bit with one another. One of the men, in response to something or other, said, “I’m really jubous about that.”

“You’re what?” quickly responded one of the men.

“I’m jubous about it,” he reaffirmed.

“Jubous. Jubous?” The word ain’t ‘jubous’.”

“Oh, yeah. Then tell me what you think it is.”

“It’s ‘jubious.’ Ain’t it, Dave?”

And Dave’s response?

“Well, now. I’ve heard it both ways.”

A diplomatic reply if ever there was one. About that we couldn’t be dubious.

Dave also had a stock answer he often used when someone asked him his opinion about something that person told to him, or viewpoint he expressed, which to Dave’s mind was stupid or incorrect. He’d look over the top of his glasses and say, “That’s interesting.” Translation: That’s the dumbest thing I ever heard.

There are times when a little tact is far preferable to a more correct response.

Then there were the two fellows discussing the correct pronunciation of our 50th state.

“It’s pronounced Havaii, said one. Like there’s a ‘v’ in it.”

“No, it’s not. It’s pronounced just like it’s spelled — Hawaii. Like a ‘w’.”

“Alright, then. Let’s ask this fellow coming how he thinks it’s pronounced. Excuse me, sir, we’d like for you to settle something for us, if you would.”

“Yes?”

“Is the state pronounced Havaii or Hawaii?”

With no hesitation, “It’s Havaii.”

“Thank you!” the ‘v’ man quickly responded.

“You’re velcome.”

Okay. That’s bad, I know. I just hope you aren’t jubous about my column-writing ability.

Or is that jubious?

Anyway, right here in our county there were some, years ago, who pronounced it “Boofort.” And Pamlico as “Pamplico.” And rinse as “wrench.” And sink as “zinc.” And lid as “led.” And Terra Ceia as “Terra Cee.” And, well, so what?

Such are examples of pronunciation variations that occur in different regions of our land, many quite colorful, some downright puzzling, often handed down through families, and, at least here in the South, by those who lived or now live out from our towns and cities.

And that’s okay.

But think of our good friends now who moved here from “up North.” Some of what we say, and how we say it, must drive them around the bend.

You know, “Mondi,” Tuesdi,” and eight, nine, “tin.” And we write with a “pin.” And leave “g’s” off ends of words. And … enough, already.

See “y’all” later.