I’m a recovering redneck. I have purged my vocabulary of the term “warshed,” which I grew up saying to mean “washed,” as in “I haven’t warshed my clothes in a month.” But I still say “crick” for creek and “ruf” to mean roof.
I still carry a pocketknife most every day. I know how to tamp a post and castrate a hog. I can make a fishing rig out of baling twine and a green sapling.
I have a college degree and I like good wine, even if I can’t always pronounce its appellation. I can tie a Windsor knot in a necktie. But I can also trap a muskrat and call a turkey. I know which fork to use for my salad. And I can skin a squirrel and run a chainsaw.
I mention all these “talents” because they’re fundamental to who I am, and I suspect many of you possess the same traits. You won’t want to hear this any more than I want to say it, but they’re disappearing from our culture, as we become a nation of suburbs and fast food and, frankly, dependence. I mention them now because I’m writing this on Independence Day, and all those redneck skills are essential to remaining independent.
I don’t mean that knowing how to clean a carburetor will keep the communists from taking our government. Just as I don’t mean that my ability to gig a frog will liberate any political prisoner. But knowing how to remain comfortable without electricity and how to find food in the woods and how to be okay with self-reliance are all skills and mindsets that will allow you to exercise independence, even if it’s a weekend camping trip with the family.
In many ways, I left my redneck past. I grew up burning wood as our family’s only heat source. I’m glad to have moved away from that. As a kid, my family never bought meat in the store, since we had our own pork, chicken, beef, and deer. I’m happy to indulge every now and again on restaurant wings.
But the other day I heard the Hank Williams, Jr. anthem “Country Boys Can Survive,” and it took me back to cane poles and rabbit hunting and maybe just a little bit of cheap beer and Beechnut.
Hank Junior made his song a political anthem: “You can’t stomp us out and you can’t make us run. ‘Cause we’re them old boys raised on shotguns…” I celebrate my heritage not in opposition to anyone, but as a proud, capable, fundamentally independent redneck. And what’s more American than that?
McKean Minute – Independence DayYe-Haw!