Note from EOGN newsletter editor Pam Cerutti:
Burr Morse is the seventh generation of Morse farmers at the Morse Farm Maple Sugarworks in Montpelier, Vermont (a delightful place to visit!). I met Burr when he took a rare day away from the farm to meet up with me and another Morse descendant, Jane Morse. We all trekked into the woods of Medfield, Massachusetts, to watch archeologists excavate the purported house site of our common immigrant, Samuel Morse. It turns out that Burr is also a wonderful storyteller with a wealth of local lore that he taps for articles about bygone days. I thought Dick's readers might enjoy one of Burr's yarns, and he graciously consented to this reprint. You can find more on the Morse Farm, its country store, and lots more at www.morsefarm.com.
The following was written by and is copyright by Burr Morse:
Gol dang that slang! Yup, that's what we say when we're plum fed up with all the four letter words and human expressions that get bantered about, overused, misused, and mistaken for something worthwhile. My wife and I are both Vermonters with roots as old as the hills and we prefer the words that our grandparents used. She suggested the other day that I write a column on the subject and I thought that sounded like just the cat's meow, speaking of an aging expression. My Grandpa Morse oft used that term, "the cat's meow," to mean something that's good and appropriate. I always thought it was great to credit kitty-cats with so much good stuff, in view of all the expressions that are demeaning to animals like "pig headed, slice of the squeal, shoot the bull, grease monkey, and snake-in-the-grass".