The Prude didn’t choose the moniker ‘Global Village Monday’ just on a whim.
She is truly a member of the global community.
She knows how to make Dutch Olle Bollen.
She bought one of those nesting dolls in Germany as a souvenir. (unbeknownst to her it was made in Russia, further confirmation of globality).
She was a big fan of Indian gauze shirts in the 70’s.
But the biggest indicator of her globality is her gift for Regional Accent Adoption.
Put The Prude in a room with anyone of any accent for longer than 15 seconds and she will promptly lose her midwestern twang and, like a vocal chameleon, blend her voice with theirs.
Hang out with the Canadians? You’d swear she was born in the Great White North and teethed on a hockey stick. Aye?
New Jooisy roommates from college days? Could you get her some woulder please? She’s a little thoisty.
Kentucky restaurant for dinner? Before The Prude has even ordered from the menu she is addressing her family collectively as ‘y’all’.
This dialect shifting knack knows no oceanic boundaries.
When a South African family joined her church, it took from the pastor’s ‘Go in Peace’ to The Prude’s ‘What was your name again?’ for her begin articulating words much as those who watch zebras and wildebeests romp in on the front lawn.
Something strange has happened to The Prude of late. Anyone over 40 knows that part of the aging process is developing new likes and dislikes.
For some unfathomable reason the Australian accent which she used to think was the cutest thing from the Southern Hemisphere now has a fingernails on the blackboard effect on her ears. (she believes the Geico gecko may bear some responsibility)
So now Your Prude approaches new and unknown folks with fear and trembling. If they are from Down Under she knows that before a shrimp could roast on the barbie she’d be calling all and sundry ‘mate’ and offering up a platter of vegemite sandwiches.
And that, my friends, would be an example of when a gift is also a curse.