SD says: Uniquely South Dakotan words or phrases
Every state has its quirks. Here in South Dakota, we're no different. We've got our own way of doing things, and we definitely have our own way of saying things.
As a native South Dakotan, here are some of the words, phrases and pronunciations I've learned that we do just a little bit differently than others.
Some of these are generational, some are East River vs. West River, some are influenced by our respective neighboring states.
Disclaimer: I grew up East River, close to the Minnesota/Nebraska/Iowa borders, so there could be some phrases with which my West River neighbors aren't as familiar. I also grew up on a farm, and farm country has its own language sometimes. You can argue amongst yourselves about which word or pronunciation the "real" South Dakotans use.
Don't see your word on the list? Send them my way! candy.denouden@rapidcityjournal.com.
Coyote
Here is a South Dakota spin on pronunciation. People in most parts of the country say “coyo-tay,” like Wil-E-Coyote. For South Dakotans, the “e” is silent. Since the coyote is our state mammal, I think it gives our pronunciation some street cred. Also, Sam Elliott says it the way we do. Just sayin'.
"Eye" vs. "Ih"
It can be hard to find a good Italian restaurant, and even harder to agree on how to pronounce said nationality. There's a portion of the population that says "EYE-talian," while others say "IH-talian." The best way to solve this argument is to stop talking about it and start eating it, because who feels like arguing with a mouth full of goodness?
You betcha
"You betcha" might conjure up images of "Fargo" or even "Miracle," and while it's true we share this phrase with our neighbors to the north, they don't have a monopoly on it. Maybe because we embrace the folksiness of our region, or maybe because it's just plain fun to say, this versatile phrase can obviously cover "you bet," but is also a great stand in for "you're welcome" or most any answer in the affirmative. When you really want to double down, precede with "Oh, sure." "Oh, sure. You betcha. That'd be super!"
French won't help you here
Perhaps the easiest way to spot a native South Dakotan versus a transplant is how they pronounce the state capitol. Those not from here think it follows the French pronunciation, since it looks like a French word. Those of us who were born here, however, (or have just lived here a long time) know that the correct way to say Pierre is like “pier” or “peer.” This also applies to Fort Pierre, just across the river. Why? Doesn't matter. Just trust us.
It's all about the em-PHA-sis
This one isn't universal, but it is prevalent: many South Dakotans refer to their favorite Main Street diner or "cafe" as a cuh-FAY, rather than a CAH-fay. Again: This one doesn't apply to all South Dakotans, and could be a generational thing. (See also “wrassle” and “crick.”)
Crick vs. creek
Creeks and streams abound in South Dakota, and almost all of them are said with South Dakota flair. It’s spelled “creek,” but pronounced “crick.” And when you were little, maybe you even thought they were actually two different words, because trying to learn phonics is hard while everyone around you blatantly defies those rules.
Taverns vs. sloppy joes
In this part of the country, whether you refer to that mix of ground beef and seasoning as a tavern or a sloppy joe has probably gotten you into an argument at some point. For some people, “tavern” probably conjures images of a bar from 18th-century England. But in South Dakota, East River especially, it’s also a synonym for sloppy joes. And then there is the faction that calls these sandwiches a "barbecue," despite the fact that there is no barbecue sauce used in a traditional sloppy joe/tavern mix. But whatever you call them, they are delicious.
OK, but when is dinner?
Most places in the U.S. refer to the noon meal as “lunch” and the evening meal as “dinner.” In South Dakota, traditionally, the noon meal is “dinner,” the evening meal is “supper.” “Lunch” is mostly ignored. Granted, since this is rooted in some old-school farming traditions, it is becoming less prevalent. But it's still pretty common to say dinner for noon and supper for evening, and lunch for whenever you don't feel like explaining what you mean.
Pert’near
A contraction of "pretty near," this versatile word can be used for distances, or like a synonym of “almost.” As in, "We pert'near got this job finished." While spellings and pronunciations vary, this is an important word for all South Dakotan children to grow up hearing.
Bison: "Z" or "S"?
We have many things in common with our neighbors to the north, but here's one very important way in which South Dakotans and North Dakotans part company: The pronunciation of "bison." In North Dakota, the "s" in "bison" takes on a "z" sound, while in South Dakota we stick with the soft "s," like "estate" or, well, "South Dakota." It might seem like a small difference, but both our states are pretty big fans of bison, so we notice. Perhaps that's why so many people just call them buffalo.
Truck vs. pickup
In South Dakota, “truck” is a versatile term that could mean a semi truck, a pickup, or even a grain truck. Some like to say “pickup truck” to clarify (which is redundant), but most people just use “truck” as shorthand for their pickup. Kind of like saying "stick shift" or "it's a stick," rather than "manual transmission."
Kitty corner
The correct way to describe something that is diagonally across from something else is "kitty corner." Not "catty corner," and definitely not "kitty/catty wampus." What the heck is a wampus, anyway?
"I'm bringing a casserole"
South Dakotans refer to this staple of community potlucks as a "casserole." It may well be hot, and served in a dish, but that doesn't mean we call it a "hot dish." That’s more of a Minnesota thing. Even for those of us who grew up near the Minnesota border, "casserole" is the all-encompassing term of choice.
Plumb
Good luck finding this as a standalone in a dictionary, but it seems to be an adverb, used almost exclusively with “tuckered.” As in, “I’m plumb tuckered out.” The only correct response to which is, “You pert’near done run yourself ragged.”
“Dragging” main
If you’re from a small town in South Dakota, you know exactly what this means. It’s Friday night, the gas station is closed, and no one wants to go home. What’s a group of teenagers to do? Drive up and down Main Street, of course. Preferably with the windows down, music up and all your passengers singing along.
Wrasslin'
One of the world's oldest sports, wrestling continues to have a strong tradition in much of South Dakota. Why some of us say "wrassle" instead of "wrestle" is admittedly puzzling, but is just part a part of the tradition. (Also seems to be generational.)
The quirks and idiosyncrasies of South Dakotans may be perfectly normal to those who grew up on the prairie or in the Black Hills, but the thi…