Words to our Father: Slang at our House

Having been raised by a perfectly (and I mean perfectly) literate father, slang wasn't exactly allowed at our house when I was a child. We learned not to copy "crude" and gentile speech from classmates, playmates, and the rough neighbors that lived to the left of us (their little boy was caught peeing in our sandbox multiple times). So we did what most slang-oppressed little girls would do... we adapted. Slang in our house took the form of puns, jokes, plays on words, and secret languages. We couldn't say "dude", but we could battle one another with vocabulary at the dinner table. These traditions continue today, though Dad has relaxed quite a bit. I mentioned 'sub-atomic toasticles' in class, which are the little pieces of bread left in the butter after slathering your toast. 'Atchy' means actually. Mom is 'Modee', we, the daughters, are 'doddees'. When my little sister and I talk on the phone, we have to make a certain face which enables us to speak in a certain voice. I think the purpose of slang in our house was and is entertainment. We still don't use mainstream slang, but always get a kick out of each other's inventions. I agree with Dalzell's statement that "the four factors...most likely to produce slang are youth, oppression, sports and vice". Dramatically speaking, we were oppressed youth (okay, so not really.. we just had a fanatic for a dad). But that "oppression" led to the creation of a different language in our home, which is perhaps slang's greatest advocate. As long as youth keep finding ways to communicate in private circles, slang will continue to thrive - even in its old age.