Rednecks (in defense of them)

9/13/2013

[RoosterRedux]

An old friend who is like a brother to me was frustrated with an email response I sent him...and, in his frustration, he tried to insult me by calling me "an uniformed redneck." I obviously caused him pain, for which I am sorry--but not sorry for speaking the truth as I know it.

In response, I composed this poem (but hey, Jack--as Uncle Si would say--I am not a poet...and I am a something less than a redneck).

This is a poem of no rhyme or meter on the subject of rednecks. Prose I guess.

Rednecks.

I was never able to achieve that.

What is a redneck? Around here it is a farmer’s son who after playing football on a Friday night, got up on Saturday morning and worked all day in the fields.

He worked every school day after it was over til the sun went down (and often afterward). Like his father, he did what had to be done. Whatever the hour…whatever the exertion, he did what had to be done.

Rednecks have to be veterinarians, crop scientists, laborers, cooks, nursemaids, gamesmen/hunters, chemists, and after all that they have whatever is left of their time for a life.

In that time they read and study and court their girlfriends and sometimes play or at least listen to music.

They are happy, loyal to their families and their country. They work hard and are smart.

I cannot count myself among them. They are better by an order of magnitude.

I was a simple little town nerd…a bookworm.

My father never counted on me for the life or death of our farm (and a farm is a business we didn’t have). He never had to and, if he had, he might have found me wanting.

[RoosterRedux]

Thx!

Rooster.

[Wildcat Stevens]

Randy Newman wrote a damn fine song about rednecks.

[dfwgator]

Randy sure wasn’t defending them.

[Cvengr]

The best complement I’ve heard, is to be called, “a well to do redneck”.