Here is an excerpt from my novel, The Other Side of the Middle: A Pennsylvania Dutch Story of Family Love. It illustrates the accent I grew up hearing.

Jacob and Sarah met Arsenic and Peach at a fire company picnic near Reading, Pennsylvania in the Oley Valley of Berks County.
 
     The band on the band shell was playing country music.  The strings of colored lights hung between telephone poles were turned on, giving the grounds a festive air.  The men were discussing their respective farming operations.  The women were discussing current activities of their kids.
    Sarah was saying that her son was having a problem at work.  “His chop’s goin bad!”
    Jacob said to Arsenic, “You ain’t breedin no moah hoahses, eh?”
    Arsenic said, “Ach, not moah den I help people dat boaht hoahses at my farm.  I chust doughn haff da enerchy no moah.”
    “It vonders me hauw life goes,” Jacob said.  “I doughn sink old, but my body can’t keep up vith my meint no moah.  I can’t keep my chores catched aftah no moah.  Hauw’s dat cancer schtuff ya hatt goin?”
    “I vass vunderful sick dayah foah avhile,” Arsenic replied.
    Peach inserted, “Yah, an it’s too much already he’s dune.”
    Jacob blurted out, “Vee dutchies verk like heck, den play like heck, den dett vee drop!”
    Peach and Sarah didn’t think that was very funny.
    Arsenic decided to try for a laugh and said, “Hey, dat’s Rudy Schtoltzfusz ovah dayah.  Von time me and him vass tryin ta make a shoaht cut home aftah dark.  Da roat I vanted ta schtay on, but Rudy says he knows hauw ta navigate by da schtars.  O.K. I says.  Let’s go.
    “Vell, it schtarts goin bad right off.  Vee got lost in da fields vee did.  Here vee vass vonderin round all confuse’t in ahvah own fields, can ya believe it?  Vell, finally vee schtop, an Rudy schtares at da schtars foah avhile an says, ‘Vait a minute, da north schtar is in da wrong place.’
    “‘Vell,’ I says, ‘I ain’t nevah navigated usin no schtars, but I know da north schtar ain’t nevah in da wrong place!’”
    That got a chuckle from everyone, so Arsenic tried again.  “Ya know, da doctor tole me I can’t drink alcahol no moah.  He says I can’t drink nothin stronker den pop.  But I says ‘Heck, Pop voot drink anysing!’”  Arsenic laughed, but the other three just stared at him.
    After a pause while everyone worked on the funnel cake, Jacob said that he had visited his one-hundred-year old uncle last month.  “Rememper old Abe Hoch?  Vee use ta svim in his pond.  Vell, anyvays, I get dayah an his daughtah says he’s ought in da back yard.  I go ought ta sit vith him, an he’s got a fiah goin vith a pot ovah it on a tripod.  I valk up an say, ‘Hiah Abe, vatt cha dune?’  ‘Cookin sauerkraut,’ he says.  ‘Vhy ain’t cha in da kitchen?’  I ask, an he says his daughtah doughn like da schmell.  So, I sit vith him foah avhile, an he gets ta complainin bought his daughtah.  ‘Dee’s kits doughn know nuthin bought life,’ he says.  ‘Vhy ya say dat?’  I ask.  An he says, ‘Yeeahs ago vee cooked sauerkraut in da haus an vent ta da toilet in da yard.  Nauw, vee cook sauerkraut in da yard an ...’  Anyvay, ya get da ideeah!”
    This brought a laugh from the group, and then the women changed the subject to the days when they had attended a one-room school.

Excerpted from: The Other Side of the Middle: A Pennsylvania Dutch Story of Family Love, ©2005  Use only with permission of the author.
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