Today, my husband Ray was chatting with our youngest daughter, Rachael, about regional dialects and colloquialisms. He then said,  “I think the only person I’ve ever heard say “warter” for “water” was George. He was referring to my older brother George who died a few years back and did, in fact, routinely say warter.

However, my immediate response to Ray was, “I used to say “warter” too. In fact, I remember being in my Aunt LuVerne’s English class in high school when we had to stand up and recite a few stanzas of Samuel Coleridge’s “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner” by memory. I stood up in front of the class and began my recitation with confidence. However, when I began the famous lines:

Warter, warter, every where,

And all the boards did shrink;

Warter, warter, every where,

Nor any drop to drink.

The whole class erupted in giggles, soon followed by my Aunt LuVerne’s characteristic deep-throated chortle.

I stopped and looked at my aunt, who said, “Len, it’s water, not warter.” She then laughed so hard that she ended up removing her glasses and wiping her tear-filled eyes with her handkerchief.

“Water?” I said.

“Yes,” Aunt LuVerne said. “Not warter.”

Really? I thought everyone in my little Texas town said warter. 

From that day forward, I shifted warter to water, but I guess my brother George never did. I never, not once, noticed. 

Rachael’s response to today’s story was, “Mom, I like that your reciting of “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner” is one of your core memories.”

I laughed. It is, indeed.