G'Day, Bob:

I have the suspicion that we all have odds and ends of dailect from parents and family. At least the odd choice of phrase. My Father called frying pans or skillets (not sure what they're called in Australia) Spiders. Spiders were cast iron frying pans with legs, so that you could sit them over the coals in the fireplace. He also used to say "dasn't" which meant "can not." That's downright Shakespearean. We all have a little accent "creep in." I grew up in Wisconsin, but out of my love for southern traditional folk, black blues, black gospel and rhythm and blues, I've picked up some characteristics of that music, with out ever consciously meaning to. I had a guy come up to me who said that he was an expert on accents, and he could tell what state I came from. He figured it was the south, and guessed Virginia, brimming with confidence. When I told him I was from Wisconsin, he refused to believe it at first, and then made a quick exit when he realized he was wrong. Like in all things, what we love transforms us. Whether it's God, rhythm and blues or pizza (pizza makes you rounder.) I don't think that you can go a lifetime loving music without it at least subtly change you accent (and how you see things.)