I Want to Be
a Redneck
By David Drury
I have a confession to make. One that I’ve harbored for years and have never told anyone. As I sit here in the coffee shop—sipping my espresso, typing on my wireless laptop, being entirely business casual—I can’t help but thinking I just want to be a redneck when I grow up.
There, I said
it. You may wince at the word “redneck”
because you used to be one or live in a place where many of them live. Or perhaps your cousin
I’m fascinated by the fact that Rednecks usually make stuff for their job. My friends and I all make our money by driving long distances in our sedans to offices where we all sit at our desks and look at files and computer screens all day. One of our only breaks from this activity is to have meetings in which we discuss budgets and long-range planning. A redneck work day looks nothing like this. Nearly every redneck I know has a job that involves what they call “hard work.” Now, from what I can tell this doesn’t mean they had to read too many e-mail messages. I’m guessing it means they dug a ditch, fixed a machine, manufactured something from what they call “parts”, built a wall or perhaps even tore down a wall with something they call a “sledgehammer.” It means they made stuff. I’m impressed by this. I imagine my future redneck self at the end of a long sweaty day of labor looking at something, anything that I created for the benefit of the community and saying, “It is good” with god-like satisfaction. Having an empty e-mail inbox at the end of the day just doesn’t compare.
I’m also sure that Rednecks have more fun than I do. Most of the rednecks I see are laughing. Sometimes I suspect they are laughing at me. But often they are laughing at a sporting event, a bar, a parking lot or the grocery store. My professional friends and I will witness this and look at one another with our eyebrows furrowed, implying that they must be drunk or simply disturbers of the peace. In fact, I think they are just having more fun than us. Rednecks know how to laugh at how stupid our world has become. They laugh at television. They laugh at their kids, at their spouses, their dogs, their bosses, their friends and they even laugh at themselves. How else do you explain Jeff Foxworthy? They’re having a lot of fun and I want in on the joke, instead of being the joke.
I’ve noticed that redneck relationships are much simpler than mine. My type of people read books about relationships. We go to counselors with whomever we’re in a relationship with and overall we are obsessed with the complexities of solving our relational issues. We even watch Dr. Phil. I have actually had serious conversations about how my view of my mother in the home affects my intimacy in relationships. I suspect few rednecks have that conversation while tailgating before the game. Redneck men don’t talk much about women, they just take action. They like a woman. They go get her. They don’t like a woman. They ignore her. If they are married to a woman, they both ignore her and go get her at the same time. Redneck women, far from being passive, are actually far more pragmatic and realistic than non-redneck women. They seem to be guided by one over-riding principle: men are dogs and will never change. They are okay with this universal truth. They don’t seem to be frustrated by trying to change their men. They get from them what they need: lovin’, children, money & someone to grow old with. They don’t sweat the details. This simple approach to relationships seems much better. I’ll have to talk to my therapist about why I’m drawn to it.
Rednecks also have a better understanding of animals and nature than I do. I have been a member of the Sierra Club and I’m opposed to cruelty to animals. I’ve never hunted a living thing in my life and the idea appalls me. However, redneck men—despite their hunting bloodlust—do have something on me and all my Bambi-loving, tree-hugging associates. They have actually been around deer and trees much more than I have. Every redneck I talk to seems closer to nature than I am. They know the woods. I suspect they chop wood frequently. Instead of chopping wood, I have a little light switch by my fireplace I flip in order to turn on the gas-powered fake fire. They also own animals. Beyond the multiple hunting dogs, they often have 45 cats living outside their home, and sometimes an odd barnyard animal or two. On the other hand, I own no hunting dogs or barnyard animals. Instead, in my home office I have saltwater fish that scare me when I clean the tank.
More than anything, rednecks know much more about combustible engines than I do. Most redneck men are in the fix-it category of “handy.” I am in the fix-it category of “clueless.” When my vehicle or home appliance breaks down, I reach for the phonebook. My redneck friends reach for their tools. Rednecks have a propensity for driving attention-getting vehicles they not only fix themselves, but also supe up with additional gear and paraphernalia. I once saw 4 rednecks driving around in a black monster truck with golden eagles painted on the sides with a giant 16 foot Michigan Militia flag flying out the back. I sat there reading my novel speechless with admiration. These were true men and I should seek them out so they might mentor me in their ways.
I think I’m going to go out and buy an El Camino with flames on the hood and change the oil in it myself. Besides, my cappuccino is gone and the battery on my laptop is dying.
© 2006 by David
Drury
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