I was asked this week if I'd ever heard the word "Mama'nem."
Stuart Heath of Beaufort said the late school principal Randy Wall was tickled when a student told him "Mama'nem" were waiting in the car.
Of course I've heard "Mama'nem." I'm no ignoramus.
But I was stumped by the next one. Stuart said that when she worked at a school in the South Carolina foothills, children were routinely referred to as "bus-left."
That is, they had been left by the bus.
Neither of these phrases made the new online version of the Oxford dictionary out this week.
It's no wonder. Some of our language would put the British keepers of words in a "hot mess." That's one of Oxford's new entries, along with "binge-watch" -- rapidly viewing multiple episodes of TV shows.
I don't think the dictionary has discovered "Oorah!" That motivational cry used by the U.S. Marine Corps is very familiar in Beaufort County. If you want to hear a bone-rattling "Oorah" go to a Drill Instructor School graduation ceremony on Parris Island.
Over the years, a few retired military men have ended our phone conversation not by saying "goodbye" but by blurting: "Out." Click.
Many more times, conversations have ended with the more pleasant: "Righto."
I don't know where that comes from, but I don't think it's from around here.
But even words with taproots in the Lowcountry are rarely heard anymore.
Emory S. Campbell tells about old words he grew up with on Hilton Head Island in his book, "Gullah Cultural Legacies."
"Long eye" described a person with excessive greed, always wanting another person's possessions.
He writes about going "jooging" as a teenager. That's when they hit the neighborhood juke joints to hear the latest Sam Cooke records on the "piccolo," or juke box.
Emory writes about twisting the night away at now-silent Hilton Head landmarks with rhythmic names like Doogie's, the Golden Rose, Porgy's, the Hideaway, the Breeze, the Rip It Up, Murray's or Kinley's. In Bluffton, it was the Ponderosa, where a Walgreen's now stands, or the Blue Moon, Mamie's, or Big Oak.
You might say that in the 1950s and '60s, a whole lot of jooging was going on in the Lowcountry.
A phrase I'd like to see deleted from our local dictionary is "down here." People from "up there" love to ask when we got "down here" and why we came "down here" and don't we think everything is backward "down here."
People who move here have long wondered when they quit being a newcomer. Comedian Garry Moore found that people considered themselves wizened old-timers as soon as the hood of their car cooled off from the trip into town.
Here's a new definition. You can make yourself at home in the Lowcountry as soon as "down here" gets bus-left from your dictionary.
Follow columnist David Lauderdale at twitter.com/ThatsLauderdale.