My late father ran a Kent Feeds dealership in eastern Iowa. I swear he spoke another language while at work. We lived in town most of my life but I would often help him in the spring and fall when I could. Hauling anhydrous tanks was a routine chore I despise. When giving me directions he would never say left or right, it was always east, west, north south. He give distance in rods...I remember thinking what the hell is a rod? Why can't you use a 1/4, 1/2, 3/4 mile distance description like a normal person. He'd refer to obscure landmarks or people's farm names like I would know this stuff. I bet half the time I left the mill with very little idea where I was going, but I miraculously never got lost and always got to the right place even though most of the roads were unfamiliar to me. Forced me to pay attention to direction and to this day I get pissed whenever I get turned around and feel like I am going a certain direction only to learn I'm going the opposite way.
Regarding dinner and supper, as a kid growing up I always thought supper was the routine, informal meal around 6pm. Now if we had company or family over, that same meal was now called dinner.
All my sibs love to tell "Dad stories" when we'd get together. He'd get a kick out of hearing us retell our tales of woe. Sure do miss him.