This is what I left the coffeehouse thinking.
Met up with a fellow voice talent and writer friend of mine today, to dish about both of our businesses, commiserate on the thinness of voice work, and share heaping mugs of joe. She's a fast-talking, fast-thinking lady, full of bubble and smirk; I adore her. When our conversation began to center around my Cotton Candying, I told her that I'd be going up to the East Coast eventually (where she's from) and wondered what her childhood park was.
"That would be Canobie Park in New Hampshire." she said, stressing the "can" part of the word, the name deriving from an area Indian tribe.
"CAN-oh-bee?" I queried. (Like a can o' bees?)
It was then I realized that I should, always, always check with the locals for the proper pronunciations of their parks' names. I'd been pronouncing Conneaut Lake Park's name incorrectly until I was gently corrected by a life-long Conneautian (or is it Conneauter? Conneautling?)
That's part of the fun of Road Tripping: taking in the local tongue, the various place names whose pronunciations need to be pinned down and conquered at times.
I'm still working on Lake Okoboji, home of Arnold's Park. No, don't ask me to pronounce it right now. I've tried; that one makes my brain hurt.
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