The Whoop-dee-doo

    One of my favorite lessons in high school English class was onomatopoeia, words that sound like what they mean, like tick-tock, buzz, or meow. I suppose every family has its own unique vocabulary, but I think my mother went above and beyond in creating new words to keep us, and my Daddy, on our toes. It was surprising to us to find that others did not share or understand these everyday terms. We had Polish Egg Rolls, Buggie-boos, Mini-ha-has, and Whoop-dee-doos.

    I cannot say for certain that this word would be an onomatopoeia because, technically, it is more of a feeling than a sound. A Whoop-dee-doo was a special thing that we all enjoyed with giggles and glee. However, it is difficult to describe to the uninitiated.  Whoop-de-doos had a strong influence on how we navigated through town and how much we anticipated the trip.

    The earliest Whoop-dee-doo I remember was located on Jefferson Avenue in East Point, Georgia on the way to Mrs. Moore’s Wee House Kindergarten. In those days, kindergarten was not part of the regular elementary school program, so my parents paid for me to attend. My school was a Wee House located in an older neighborhood of tree-lined roads and sidewalks. There were rock walls, steps leading from the road to the front porches, and American flags flying proudly. Behind Mrs. Moore’s home, was a grassy area, a playground with a big swing set, and a small cinder-block building that served as our classroom.

    Getting ready for school in the morning can become tiresome and cause many children to dawdle, but I knew the ride to school would most likely include a Whoop-dee-do, so it was much easier for me to wake up and get ready to leave. It didn’t take long for me to memorize the route to school, and each morning I would anticipate the Whoop-de-doo long before we reached it.

    The location of the Whoop-de-doos varied with the direction of travel. Traveling east to west might be delightful, while traveling west to east on the same road might be disappointing. In addition, some Whoop-de-doos depended on going straight through the green light and some were not. Mama knew the secret to finding the best Whoop-de-doos regardless, and she looked forward to them with the same excitement that I did.

    Seatbelts were a thing of the future for us, so when we encountered a Whoop-dee-doo, we felt the full effect. Mama has always been a careful driver and did not need to increase her speed to make the most of the Whoop-dee-doos. When we encountered one, the car would roll over the bump in the road, we would briefly lift from our seats, our stomachs would flutter, and we would land with a small thud—laughing, with a loud, unanimous “Wheeeeeee.” 

    Mama was the one who took us to school and picked us up because Daddy was at work. As a result, Daddy was not informed about the location of Whoop-de-doos, the proper protocol for approaching a Whoop-dee-doo, or the correct emotional response. He lived in ignorance of our Whoop-dee-doo tradition much longer than we realized.

    Whoop-dee-doos are found in other locations, and Mama was always quick to identify them. So, when they moved to Hall County, Georgia, unbeknownst to Daddy, Mama started identifying the optimal routes for Whoop-dee-doos.

    One afternoon, Mama and Daddy were returning from a typical shopping trip. Hall County had recently extended McEver Road so that it crossed Browns Bridge Road at the traffic light. This was one of those supreme Whoop-dee-doos that was totally dependent on getting a green light. Daddy was driving a little Honda Civic and they were chatting and making plans for the evening. Mama was so involved in the conversation that she did not warn Daddy about the upcoming Whoop-de-doo until it was too late. Not knowing the proper protocol, he didn’t realize he should slow down a bit and was focused on getting through the light before it changed to red. In a split second, Mama said, “Bill, there’s a …” and the car became literally airborne and thudded back to the pavement. Daddy didn’t know the proper emotional response, so he responded with loud exclamations of gibberish. That’s how Daddy learned about Whoop-dee-doos.