I Was Born A Redneck

I have a vision of my dad in the delivery room, with excited jubilation announcing to my dear sweet, sweaty mom, Mother of 3 boys, that it was indeed a Redneck! No, that didn't happen. As the forth child and only girl, I'm quite sure that wasn't what my Dad would have been yelling about.

Having grown up in the California Bay Area, I was immersed in both the joys of city life, the feel of small town community and the opportunities of a lifetime. I grew up in a city that was booming with the birth of technology. And yet, it was pre internet, pre dot-com.  I myself am the daughter of two amazing teachers. Not University professors mind you, my dad taught at the high school and my mom taught early education. Many of my school mates went on to be writers, journalists, producers, musicians, and yes, web designers. But I'm not sure I can think of anyone who grew up to be a redneck. Except myself that is!

fishing with Dad ~ There is a creek there someplace! 

There where some factors of course that should have been red flags. My dad liked to wear wrangler jeans and cowboy boots now and then to his classes. He has always been a fan of Dolly Parton and Willie Nelson and would sing "Mamma, Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to be Cowboys" to us all, much to our dismay. A song that I now sing to my babies… much to their dismay. Dad loves to fish. He always made sure we went fishing. But out of all four of us, I am the only one who still likes it. My brothers must have gotten their fill in their youth. But sadly, I don't know much about it and wouldn't ever think of doing it, without my dad. My dad still loves young poeple. He is a born leader and is still working with the schools in his area.

My mom was from the midwest and the south, they moved a lot. There were summer trips out west to visit her sisters. We spent time visiting my mom's old farmhouses. There were many! Hearing wonderful stories about winter blizzards, and fingers caught in windmill blades. Hot irons under the sheets and amazing gardens. Lemon Meringue pie that made "Daddy, (my grandpa) want to meet Mamma." Wagon rides and how Grandpa fell out of the hay loft. There are still lots of stories. My mom however isn't very redneckish, maybe a little hick once, but not redneck. She is very smart and artistic. I truly think of her has an Elegant Woman. Someone I hope I can aspire to be more like.

Horse Day Camp ~ I'm in the middle 

As much as my parents influenced me, I don't really think it had much to do with them. After all, none of my brothers are rednecks. It was born. First off  I love horses. As a kid I LOVED horses. Every time we took a trip, if there was a sign that said horseback riding, my parents know I would want to do it. And my dear parents would let me. I think I was five or six when I started going to Horse Day Camp. It wasn't just horses either. I love all animals. Still do.

a country living crawdad

There was one other thing however. This one should have given it all away and perhaps it did. Perhaps my brother knew all along. You see, we lived near a creek. In cities creeks are different then country creeks. In the country all kids play in creeks. They fish in them, they wade in them. They catch crawdads in them. But in the city, creeks are walled with cement and fenced off with chain link. Of course we were kids and that didn't stop us, but still. The thing about the creek is that it had frogs in it. And frogs don't pay attention to the the fence. And we lived on a street, not a little road, but a street. With cars and bikes and all that city stuff. And the frogs would sometimes get squashed and become roadkill. It was this that I liked to find, the dead squished frogs. I took them home and kept them in a drawer in my room and when I had nothing to do I would play dolls with them. Yup, that was the beginning of the end. I had no right to dream of the city ever again! I was a true REDNECK!