I am having a defining moment. I’m sitting on the deck, no socks, a Big Red soda on the table, a bb gun sitting next to me to scare away grackles, a target out in the yard to shoot at with my CO2 gun, clothes hanging on the line and a car that doesn’t run sitting in my garage. Does that make me a redneck?
Actually, I hate that word, at least in its more negative connotations. My parents worked their butts off out in the hot sun and the cold winter for several years to keep us fed and clothed and housed. They put up with a lot. They were both burned nearly brown by the sun by the time summer was past and burned red by the wind and cold before winter was over. Sure, their necks were red, but so were their hands and their faces and any other part that wasn’t covered.
Many of my generation look down on those who have to work hard for a living, but I’m not one, or don’t think I am. I know what it’s like to be out in the South Florida sun splicing phone cable or moving phone service or landscaping and getting every exposed part burned anew every day. No amount of sun block can help if you are out side in that sun every day. We tried umbrellas and bandannas and turning up our shirt collars, nothing worked. Some days I miss working outside, not when it’s 15 degrees or 100 degrees or when it snows or rains or I have to work too hard. Okay, I guess I just want to go sit outside and goof off when the weather is nice like today’s.
I salute you, all who proudly claim the true status of redneck. I raise my glass of Big Red to you and say: What the hell are you doing working today, QUIT, go sit and have a/an (insert your favorite beverage here). You are one of the people who make America great!
The Purposeful Geek 