The other day, Beth and I were shopping at our local Target for what will only be identified as “clothing” for my wife. In the nearby shoe-section I heard it. What I have longed for so long. It was beautiful and frustrating all at the same time. “What was it?” you ask. Only the thing I would like to have most in the world…
An English accent.
So I stood there in the store looking at “clothes” and wishing I could have that one thing that had eluded me all my life. Suddenly I began to murmur unpleasantries under my breath about the lady I had heard speaking to her child. Then all of the sudden her husband walked up and began speaking in that angelic accent. What are the chances, three people standing in a Target and one of them doesn’t have an English accent, and that one is me.
You must understand, I only missed it by two generations. In fact, my dad lived in England when he was a boy and either my grandmother really is English, as she claims, or she does a heck of a job of faking it. Hmm…faking it…could I...maybe…would anyone notice?
Here’s the problem, as a worship leader, I have to listen to the likes of Matt Redman, Vicky Beeching not to mention Delirious and Hillsong with the even cooler cousin of English accent, Australian Accent. Its torture. These guys and girls (chaps and lasses) don’t even have to bee that great of singers because they have English accents. They hypnotize the audiences with their voices.
What does my accent get me? Nothing. Being from South Alabama means nothing, absolutely nothing. All I get is the occasional; you’re from Texas aren’t you. NO, I’M NOT FROM TEXAS!! I want someone to mistake me for Irish or Scottish, mess up my country and stop trying to guess which backward, bottom five in education, grit eating state I am from. No offense to the South.
The point of this little rant…well there really isn’t one. There’s nothing I can do about it. There’s no magic pill or operation I can undergo, nothing I can buy. I’ve either got to fake it or suck it up. I don’t have an English accent and barring moving across the pond, I doubt I ever will. I just wish my Grandma would tell me how she’s faked it for so long.
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An English accent.
So I stood there in the store looking at “clothes” and wishing I could have that one thing that had eluded me all my life. Suddenly I began to murmur unpleasantries under my breath about the lady I had heard speaking to her child. Then all of the sudden her husband walked up and began speaking in that angelic accent. What are the chances, three people standing in a Target and one of them doesn’t have an English accent, and that one is me.
You must understand, I only missed it by two generations. In fact, my dad lived in England when he was a boy and either my grandmother really is English, as she claims, or she does a heck of a job of faking it. Hmm…faking it…could I...maybe…would anyone notice?
Here’s the problem, as a worship leader, I have to listen to the likes of Matt Redman, Vicky Beeching not to mention Delirious and Hillsong with the even cooler cousin of English accent, Australian Accent. Its torture. These guys and girls (chaps and lasses) don’t even have to bee that great of singers because they have English accents. They hypnotize the audiences with their voices.
What does my accent get me? Nothing. Being from South Alabama means nothing, absolutely nothing. All I get is the occasional; you’re from Texas aren’t you. NO, I’M NOT FROM TEXAS!! I want someone to mistake me for Irish or Scottish, mess up my country and stop trying to guess which backward, bottom five in education, grit eating state I am from. No offense to the South.
The point of this little rant…well there really isn’t one. There’s nothing I can do about it. There’s no magic pill or operation I can undergo, nothing I can buy. I’ve either got to fake it or suck it up. I don’t have an English accent and barring moving across the pond, I doubt I ever will. I just wish my Grandma would tell me how she’s faked it for so long.
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