The Chicago Accent-By Anne Marie Saviano

They say the Chicago accent is the worst in the world.

I say-

The Chicago accent is mustard on your hot dog. It’s the guy on the block who gets out the snowblower and plows your sidewalk and your next door neighbor’s sidewalk and doesn’t stop until he’s done everybody’s sidewalk- cuz why the hell not? You offer to pay him and he’s like “get outta here.” It’s your dad who wakes up for work in the winter earlier than usual so he can clean snow off your windshield, then scrape the ice off so you don’t have to. It’s your mom who stops at The Jewel to pick up Dean’s Half and Half for her coffee because it’s on sale. She’s just went there for the creamer but she got some coffee cake and two things of pop in case somebody stops by because inevitably somebody’s gonna stop by. It’s grown men holding each other and sobbing when the White Sox win the World Series in 2005.

It’s the same guys holding each other and crying when the Cubs win the World Series (but for a different reason on the Sout’side). It’s the illegal fireworks on the 4th of July.

It’s calling dibs.

It’s thin crust tavern style pizza from Obbie’s or Vito and Nick’s. It’s a Monday in March when it’s 70 degrees in the morning, and snowing by dinner time. It’s the AGP, above ground pool. It’s a sausage sandwich. It’s Italian beef with giardiniera. It’s helping someone carry groceries in the parking lot one minute. And the next minute, you’re yelling “c’mon” and calling someone a jagoff cuz they cut you off on the Stevenson.

It’s meeting someone for the first time and saying “What parish are you from?” It’s yelling “Hey Stan” out the window to your neighbor because you can basically reach out and touch each other since your brick bungalows are so close. It’s the lake front on a Friday in late June. It’s block parties. It’s the guy selling cotton candy or tamales on Pulaski.

It’s the guy, you know the guy! The one who does dat thing over der.

It’s a Maxwell street Polish. It’s the “frunchroom.”

It’s the half bath off the kitchen. It’s the paneled basement with a pool table from the 70’s. It’s the fireman who lives next door to the cop who’s married to the nurse and her mother who’s also a nurse who’s married to a cop who lives down the street from her sister who’s a firefighter married to a cop. It’s your teacher who grew up on the south side and moved to the north side cuz she’s so fancy now. It’s Archer Ave. It’s Taylor street. It’s Greektown and Chinatown and Bridgeport and Beverly and Ravenswood and Hyde Park and Portage Park and Garfield Ridge.

It’s you.

It’s me.

It’s us.

And that- my friends- is beautiful.

Love,

Anne Marie (a fan)

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