That Thing on Your Head

It's amazing how we can all speak the same language, but not necessarily understand what is being said. I'm not talking about the kind of language barrier where you can't get your point across either because you aren't explaining it right or the other person isn't understanding it the way you mean. I'm not talking about how you tell a child to do chores, or not touch, or ... and it is like you are speaking a completely different language.

I mean actual words - how various regions not only have their own accents (no one ever assumes my husband is a northerner!) but their own words for things. This thought partially hit me when reading comments on Rachel's blog. Some people had never heard of some of the turns of phrases used - I don't know if I knew exactly what she meant because we use them in Canada, or I just watch enough British comedy. There's also these differences within the North American continent.

More specifically, I am talking toques.

To me, the winter hat you wear on your head has always been, and will always be, a toque. Although derived from 16th century France, this is a part of Canadian identity.

Now, I understand that this word developed into our normal vocabulary because of the French influence in our country, being bilingual and all. Oh, and to the chickie that kept arguing that Canadians call them tookies ... NEVER heard of that. Doesn't mean that there aren't Canadians that do, but that is not mainstream.

When my husband came up for Christmas one year when I was still living at my parents, we planned to go to Ottawa to see the Parliament Hill all adorned in snow. Before we left, he told me he needed to get a tobaggon. I tried to point out that it was not that kind of hill (it's where the Parliament Buildings are) as he proceeded to tell me that it was to wear on his head. Dude ..... oh, you mean a toque? How can the word that we use for a wooden sled be the same as the knit hat he wanted?

A couple of years later, we went to visit a friend in Atlanta. She was from Ohio and her husband was from Georgia. As she prepared her baby for our walk, I asked what she called the item she was placing on young Allen's head. She gave me a funny look and replied very slowly "A ski hat". Neither she nor her husband had heard of toque or tobaggon (for the record, Atlanta is only 4 hours from where we live).

Since then, I have run into a woman from Maine that used toque and a guy from Iowa that used stocking cap.

But, to me, it will always be, and should always be, toque.

Unable to load a picture of me in my new toque, but here is my winter hat of choice at the moment:

Canadian Olympic Wear

It's the bottom row, middle picture in the collage. Not sure why I can find it in the catelogue.