Fnord wrote:
"Rednecks" are not restricted to the South or Appalachia. We're everywhere that people actually enjoy putting in 12 to 16 hours of manual labor each day, where neighbors support each other like kinfolk, where relatives will take you in even if you're on parole, where self-sufficiency and supporting one's children are the hallmarks of a mature adult, where service to one's country earns you head-of-the-line privileges at the church potluck, where flying the American flag is something you want to do, where "gun control" means hitting your target with the first shot, where solving problems is more important than complaining about them, where Election Day and opening day of deer season are given the same reverence as Thanksgiving and Christmas, where a man's word is as good as cash, and where brand names like "Levi", "Black & Decker", and "Chevrolet" have more value than "Gucci", "Cuisinart", and "Porche".
My Dad had been born in rural eastern Washington in 1921 - that is, the Old West had hardly ended by the time he had come into the world. The fact is though, my Dad and his family had originally lived in the Columbia basin area of Lincoln county, surrounded by Russian German farmers (as his family were), ranchers and cowboys, as well as the occasional former horse thieves and rustlers. Then, for reasons why I had never asked my Dad about (he has since passed away), his family had packed up and moved to what might be described as Washington state's hillbilly country further north in the state. With the experience of living among a bunch of crackers and rednecks who can perhaps be best described as closed minded and bigoted. Half the girls in his high school class had never graduated due to getting into the family way, despite feeling that their country morality was superior to everyone else'. And the ecstatic pentecostal worship of the locals was so irritating that he and his parents had to go all the way to Spokane for proper Lutheran worship. Needless to say, when my Dad left for an industrial job in Spokane, with a few exceptions of having to stay with his parents after his father had had a debilitating stroke, he never looked back at that back water s**thole. And I suppose my Dad's prejudice has colored my perception of countrified life.
-Bill, otherwise known as Kraichgauer