Here is just one more example of the varied differences between two regions of the South, here in the United States of America. Some of these differences can be worlds apart, others not so far off, and still, others blend together at times you just can't tell which or who is from when or where. We Okies say things a might differently at times from our cousins out in Tennessee for example. I may say "Hey mom, what's for dinner?" and my cousin from outside of Nashville may call the meal "supper", but you know (and never have to worry) that whatever it's called, there will be plenty of it to go around. If there's one thing we do here in the South (and Southwest) is cook. (I'm supposed to say "to cook" if I'm being a bit more proper with my English).
The other day I received an email from a police deputy in Edinburgh, Scotland, the place I dearly love. He informed me that it would be highly unlikely, strongly recommended, and even ordered that I should not try and bring any firearms to the United Kingdom. He wasn't specific about as to why that was exactly, but sent me a fair warning that to do so would mean not only confiscation of my weapons but a possible jail sentence should I somehow make it past customs and actually enter the country with them. I can't tell you how sad that email made me, but I can tell you that if I do visit Caledonia, I am bringing my piggy.
You may ask, "What's a piggin' string?" and the answer is simple. It's a 4 to 7 foot nylon or hemp rope that's been fashioned with a loop at one end and a frayed knot at the other. The loop is cut and sewn back into itself, held together usually with a piece of rawhide for security purposes because you don't want the rope to slip out of place when you hogtie a cow for branding - - or when you take down a man and hogtie him for whatever purpose you deem necessary at the time. (I would assume that branding would not be a suitable nor acceptable purpose really, but there are legitimate reasons why you may need to subdue a man with a piggin' string now and again.)
My cousin in Tennessee informed me this morning that my piggin string was in fact called a "hog-tie" where he's from, and that it only makes sense to call it a hogtie if, in fact, that is what you use it for. My immediate response was that he way very well be correct, but we call our national pastime sport "football" when we mostly use our hands to pitch, throw, and pass it, now don't we? We call soda "Coke" no matter what brand it is, and we say we "might could" when we know we damn well can. It's a thing - - we're all a bit different down this way. Either way, piggin string or hogtie, it's a nifty little gadget that was created and designed for good reason, has served that purpose well enough, and when or if a woman finds herself in a foreign country without the use of a handgun by her hip, she can rest assured knowing she can at least hold a would-be assailant to the ground wrapped up in a hooey tight enough to bust his balls if he decided to try and wiggle out before the cops could assist with his disposal. It's all good.
Something else my good cousin would say is a little different between the two of us, and how we were raised. He believes you can't change a horse's name or it brings bad luck to both the horse and the owner. I've never had a problem naming a pony what I wanted to. When we were growing up here in Oklahoma, before his family moved off to the "far east" as my dad put it, he shot quail and rabbits like the rest of us, holding out most of his ammunition for the later part in the afternoon when the animals were more likely to hover around the creek bed. I was never into hunting myself, I could never bring myself to shoot an animal even if we were going to eat it -- I can catch a fish, that's not a problem, but to shoot a bunny? No...not going to happen. My cousin literally lives off the land now. He was telling me how he's been in the mountains so long he didn't even know what Netflix was, and he's not that impressed. Makes me wonder what the next 100 years will bring to this country. Kids today can't walk outside without their phones in their hands but I doubt that most of them have held a fishing pole.
Yep, I may be the only woman in Scotland carrying a piggin' string on my hip, but I'm sure it will make for good conversation at the Wee Cafe in Edinburgh. Maybe it will catch on, what do you think? You know, there may just need to be a wee demonstration from time to time as well, something to both entertain the customers and keep my swing in practice. I'm cutting in on a six-second wrap time, but that's nothing to write home about, nothing to brag about, especially if you're from Oklahoma and God forbid, in a rodeo family. Pulling a 6 would be rather embarrassing; wouldn't it? I count on my charm at that point. If I can keep my calm while I throw, turn, twist, wrap, and pull, long enough to sweet talk the fella into not fighting the inevitable, well, I just might end up improving my time - - we'll have to see what happens.
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