By Ben Olson
Reader Staff
After wrapping up endless home and work chores last weekend, I strapped the canoe to the roof of the car and set out for a midday adventure to paddle the watery world with my boo.
We stopped at a gas station before leaving town to buy one of those enormous cans of beer they sell by the single. I asked the clerk at the counter if I could have a paper bag to wrap around the can.
“You mean a North Idaho cooler?” she asked, a wry smile on her face. “You want it tug or loose?”
I had to think about that for a moment, ultimately choosing the “tug” option, which fit tighter around the can. The “loose” option would feature some extra paper one could fold to really protect their valuable liquid asset, but that can of beer wasn’t to be long for this world.
While we paddled, I thought of all the North Idaho expressions I’ve heard throughout my life and how funny some of them are. We say them here in the panhandle and people won’t bat an eye, but use them outside this region and you’ll surely draw some funny looks.
When I lived in Colorado, I asked a friend to pick me up a “half rack” of beer before going camping. They returned and handed me a six-pack.
I protested and explained to them that a half rack is 12 beers, but they just shook their heads like I was speaking in tongues.
“So a rack of beer is 24?” they asked.
“Nope, that’s a case,” I said, sending them further down the rabbit hole of North Idaho nomenclature.
That was the first time I realized not everyone used “half rack” like we learned growing up in Sandpoint.
One winter, while I had a few friends visiting from out of town, we turned into an empty parking lot covered in snow and I announced that I was going to “spin some brodies.”
“‘Spin some brodies’?” my friends chortled. “You mean donuts? What the hell is a ‘brodie’?”
(Fun fact: This term originated from Steve Brodie, a man who claimed to have leapt from the Brooklyn Bridge in 1886, but there weren’t any credible witnesses to verify his claim. Brodie became a sensation in newspapers, and the term “brodie” began to be used to describe falling or jumping from a significant height. Over time, the term “brodie” became synonymous with doing any type of stunt, and now here we are.)
Other denizens of North Idaho have pointed out that they always called the maneuver “cutting cookies,” but the award goes to Midwesterners for their perfectly nonsensical term, “whipping shitties.”
While the rest of the country might refer to a U-turn as “pulling a U-ey,” here in North Idaho we’ll often say, “flip a bitch.” Making a left turn is “hanging a Louie” and to “take a Roger” means to turn right.
When I was a kid, my neighbors would often say “warsh” instead of “wash.” You’ll still hear “crick” more than “creek” and “onry” is more prevalent than “ornery.” Then there are the ones who say “beg” for “bag.” Also, don’t get me started on how many thousands of times I said the word “hella” when I was growing up.
Southern Idahoans often call the glove compartment the “jockey box,” but that one never made it north of Lewiston. We do refer to our vehicles as “rigs,” though.
In the South they’ll use “y’all” for almost every occasion, but in North Idaho, we like to say, “you guys,” for a group of men and women.
Potato wedges are referred to as “JoJos,” and if we gather before an event, it’s known as a “prefunk.”
The term “North Idaho” itself also falls into this category, because the technically correct terminology for this region is “northern Idaho,” but the moment someone uses that, it immediately outs them as a newcomer or tourist — a fate worse than death.
North Idaho locals and old-timers: What are some of your own favorite expressions we use in the panhandle that aren’t popular elsewhere? Share them with me by sending an email to [email protected].
