Whose Tree Lawn Is It Anyway?
A Study in Regional Linguistics
Filed under: Linguistics, Culture
As a child who lived a relatively sheltered life on the shores of Lake Erie, there were a lot of things I took for granted. Too often I found myself assuming that others lived a life relatively more or less like my own.
I had assumed, for instance, that nearly every family settled their differences with basement wrestling matches refereed by their fathers. You can imagine by confusion then when I began staying at friend’s houses, only to find their basements were totally devoid of any wrestling mats (or the bloodstains in the carpet or holes in the wall). Indeed, even today as I grow older I am regularly embarrassed by assumptions that I had previously held regarding others’ approaches to life.
These assumptions regarding one’s way of life as compared to another can be particularly embarrassing with regards to linguistics. Anyone who has ever smoked pot in a strange place will know this. Did you know that smoking somebody *up*, smoking somebody *out*, and smoking somebody *down* are all used to refer to the same thing depending upon where one tokes? They might say “cashed” up in Kalamazoo when a bongload is totally burnt up, but try saying anything other than “kicked” to a smoker on the east coast and they might look at you like you told them you were wearing a wire.
In short, misusing one of these regionalisms can be a particular gaffe that one should always seek to avoid whenever possible, although when speaking about some topics, one is almost assured to find themselves saying the wrong thing based on their regional identity.
In some cases these regionalisms can be especially granular, and nowhere is this more true than it is in reference to the small, grassy area that one can often find between the sidewalk and the road. You all know what I’m talking about: sometimes there will be a little tree or a mailbox there. What is so absurd about this then, is that despite these areas being a constant fixture in nearly every part of the county — at least the parts I’ve been to — nobody can agree on what to call such an area.
The Wikipedia page for what I know as a “tree lawn” identifies this grassy patch in front of one’s home as a “road verge”. You can really use these terms interchangeably when referring to such an area and generally, people will be able to discern what you are talking about regardless of the terminology they grew up with.
The Wikipedia page also suggests that there are some 45 different regionalisms used to refer to this patch of grass, with some terms (such as the outlandish “devil’s strip”) only being used in small areas of second-rate cities like Akron, Ohio. In fact, Ohio is somewhat unique in the sense that, depending upon where you are, one can hear anything from “berm” to “boulevard”, “curb lawn”, “curb strip”, “devil’s strip”, “park strip”, “parkway”, “street lawn” or, as I grew up with, “tree lawn”. This is by my count the most regionalisms contained within a single state, which makes sense given the distinct regional cultures dividing Northeast, Northwest, East, Central, Southeast and Southwest Ohio. At times, cities like Cincinnati and Cleveland have little in common other than the boundless stupidity of their football fans. They might as well be in different states.
I realize there is no national authority in charge of setting the standard for stuff like this, and while I can abide by people in the South calling any brown, carbonated soda “Coke” I suppose, using 45 different terms to refer to the same thing seems a bit extreme.
Some of these terms can be misleading, suggesting that they should be abandoned outright in an effort to create a clearer and more easily understood world (for me, if not for you). Terms like “median”, “right-of-way” and even street terms like “boulevard” or “parkway” should be abandoned outright to avoid any confusion. I’m imagining an Abbott and Costello bit, except instead of confusing base runners with the runners themselves, Lou Costello finds himself in a state of humorous indecision, not knowing if he should park his car on the median in the middle of the road, or the median on the side of the road.
Other terms, while not technically misleading, do not provide an individual with enough information to discern what someone is talking about when they describe the area. What is a “berm”? Or a “swale”? I don’t think those are acceptable in Scrabble, so I won’t allow them either.
My upbringing leads me to believe that “tree lawn” would be the preferred national standardization for the term, but I fear here that I am once again showing my privilege. We must keep in mind that not every family is fortunate enough to have an old oak, or even a small ficus on that little grassy patch.
Indeed, in the spirit of inclusivity I would ask that the governors of the various states making up our great union meet and agree upon a term to settle this discrepancy once and for all. This discussion suggests that something like “road verge” be used as it is both informative and non-confusing, although I’m not so picky here as to refuse other, equally informative and nondiscriminatory terms like “curb lawn” or “sidewalk strip”. Perhaps even the particularly snappy “besidewalk”, although I have a feeling this might only lead to further confusion among a population that is always exasperated.
We, as Americans, have toiled in a state of confusion for too long, wandering aimlessly as we attempt (in vain) to describe the little place where you leave your grass bags or old furniture for pickup. Just pick something, anything at this point. We will not be able to move forward as a society until we do so. At the end of the day, identity as an American is largely determined by the language that one uses (normally, short, simple words in my experience); and so if for no other reason that to unite what is ostensibly a deeply fractured, divided nation, I implore you to look into your hearts, and then out the front door towards that little strip between the sidewalk and the road and ask yourself: what the hell am I looking at?
