The Art of Speaking Like a Time Traveler (Or, Why I Say ‘Folks’ Way Too Much)

Well, folks, here I am, eight days post-surgery, “nursing” a whole lot of aches and pains and trying to “catch some winks”—not very successfully, I might add. I’m just a tad irritable, which is what happens when sleep eludes me and every breath feels like I’m “in a bit of a pickle.” Turns out, a surgery that removes a third of your lower right lung (and, might I say, they didn’t just stop there—28 suspicious lymph nodes got their eviction notices too) leaves you feeling a little less than “spry.”

So as I’m sitting here “mending” and adjusting to my new lung capacity, I can’t help but reflect on some of the outdated vocabulary I throw around with alarming regularity. You know, words like “folks.” I use them with a level of commitment that suggests I’ve just stepped out of a black-and-white film. I’ll greet people with a hearty, “Well, hello there, folks!” or say things like, “Let’s get these folks together for a good ol’ time.” Not exactly the hip talk of today, but hey, it’s uniquely me.

Apparently, words like “folks” have become something of a relic, a linguistic hand-me-down that makes me sound like I’m hosting a barn dance or selling penny candy. My husband has stopped questioning it at this point; he’s just accepted that he married someone with a verbal time machine. But every now and then, I catch a look from someone—a millennial, Gen Z-er, or anyone under the age of 100, really—that suggests they’re waiting for me to pull out a rotary phone.

It’s not just “folks,” either. I throw out “golly,” “good grief,” and on truly special occasions, “shindig.” It’s like I’ve taken it upon myself to keep these words alive, one bemused audience at a time. And yes, I realize I could update my vocabulary, but where’s the fun in that? I like to think I’m doing my part to remind people of a simpler time, when neighbors said “howdy” and a gathering could still be called a “hootenanny” without anyone rolling their eyes.

So, here’s to all my fellow outdated-word enthusiasts! May our linguistic quirks keep people guessing and add a little vintage charm to the everyday. Because really, who wouldn’t want to sprinkle their conversations with a dash of the good old days? And with this new lung capacity of mine, maybe I’ll even find a few more old-fashioned ways to keep on trucking!

Hootenanny! Hootenanny!

To every single one of you who has donated, shared, or sent encouragement, thank you from the bottom of my heart! Facing this rare cancer has been no small feat, and I couldn’t do it without the support, kindness, and love each of you has shown.

Your donations have helped me cover medical expenses, and knowing I have a team of amazing people behind me gives me so much strength and hope. Each dollar, each kind word, and every bit of support lifts me up on this journey. Because of you, I feel a little lighter and a lot braver.

Thank you for making a tough road feel a little less lonely and for being there every step of the way. I’m beyond grateful for each of you!

With love and gratitude,

Christina

From the bottom of my heart, thank you. Thank you for being my people, my tribe, my favorite weirdos. Your kindness and generosity has made this journey a little lighter, a little brighter, and a whole lot funnier. If I could, I’d invite you all over for a celebration—complete with balloons, confetti, and probably an awkwardly heartfelt karaoke rendition of “I Will Survive.” Until then, know that I’m sending each of you a virtual high-five and an endless supply of gratitude.

With love and a goofy grin,

C: