Redneck / Suthun Wind Chime

Rednecks and Suthunaz seem to be synonymous with each other and thus posting this here seems relevant. Though, to be sure, if you knew my neighbors you'd think twice before calling any of them (and me) a Redneck. They are "Southerners" or to my own ear "Suthunaz." Rednecks, to them, are uneducated Suthun Gennelmen Wannabees. Rednecks can be from anywhere, but them Suthunaz can only be from South of the Mason Dixon Line.

Watch The Time There, Bubba!

Just the other day I was out and about and came across a rather interesting juxtaposition of old south and new. I had gone down to the corner hardware store and was looking at a few flanges. (Yeah, Flanges....things every home should not be without nor every homeowner.)

While I was there, this old guy came in who looked like he had stepped out of a film. He was about 180 years old (give or take) a big bushy beard and stood no more than about 5 and a half foot tall. Gnarled old hands, lines in his face deep enough to lose a good sized John Deer tractor. More to the point, he was wearing an old straw farmer's hat and a pair of bib style overalls he probably got when he turned 15. He had on what I think were boots, but I was unable to see past the years of caked on mud and vegetable matter which can only be attributed to a farmer's field.

This is not the unusual thing.

While I stood there, ostensibly reading the label on a can of wasp spray (I hate them buggers and the quicker they die the better!) the Ol' Suthun Gennelman talked with the hardware-philes behind the counter and they hurried off to get him his (insert name of unusual farm implement here and no, it wasn't a mattock, I know what they are.)

While the clerk was gone, the old man looked around on the walls until he found a brightly lit plastic clock. Advertising some wondrous plant food it was almost too bright to see the spindly hands pointing out the time. (Analog, not digital.) He studied it a moment and sort of shook his head. He then dug one hand down into the front pocket of those overalls and rooted around for something in particular. Finally he found what it was and pulled his gnarled hand out. He turned the hand over and studied what he had brought out.

When I looked closer I expected to see an old pocket watch handed down from generation to generation, revered and cherished. Or maybe I'd see the watch part of a wrist watch which he carried around like a pocket watch, he being one of those thrifty souls who can't seem to throw anything away. What I saw surprised me.

A cell phone. He had pulled the cell phone out of his pocket to check the digital time against the analog plastic clock on the wall. He didn't trust the old plastic advertising clock and had to check something he trusted more...his cell. Satisfied, he snapped the phone shut, carefully slid it back into the pocket from which he had extracted it and went back to waiting.

Me, I giggled a bit, but not so as anyone would hear. The combination of this old geezer (Yeah, I can say geezer, I'm almost one myself) and the pocket 'Cell-Watch' was almost more than I could take. I love the fact that new technology is catching up to old Suthun institutions (and guys like this are an institution in themselves) and yet at the same time, it just tickled me.

Old meets new...here in the Good Ol' New South.

You Can't Get There From Here

What a lot of Non-Suthunaz don't understand about living in the South is that the South is not a place, it's a state of mind. It's storied and secreted and it's history and it's now. Yeah, it's complicated.

The South (with the requisite capital 'S') has a history like none other in the US. History plays a big part in living here. You can't go into a conversation without knowing what came before. Confused? So was I when I first got here.

You see, knowing the history of a place means you're part of it and it's a part of you. You're part of the fabric which creates our beloved South. Now I'm sure there are a lot of you NON Suthunaz who believe that by living in your area means you are a part of it and it a part of you in the same manner. And, for the most part, I expect that's true. But the Suthunah takes it much further by making that history a part of everything they do and every thing they say. And they know how to cull out the Non-Suthunaz from the herd quite quickly.

Most notably, giving directions. Non-Suthunaz come along and ask directions. Directions from the locals can get a history lesson thrown in for free.

"Well, you first go down this road a fur piece and take the left right there where old man Jackson had that double sized Barn. The barn burned down in 83, but you can see the burned out logs there on what used to be the foundation. That foundation was laid by the entire town, and has rocks from as far away as Mills Holler. But when you turn, you be sure to stay to the left, cuz you'll head for the crick in a quick way..."

History. It's being a part of the very landscape which makes living here get into your skin. I've found myself asking people if they know a certain landmark before I begin directions. "You know that place, 'McHenry's,' where they had that double murder a few years back?" Yeah, I can't believe I asked that either. These lines that Suthunaz use are a way of basically asking a total stranger, "You from 'round heah?" and "How long you been livin' heah?" all in one innocuous question. To which the response is usually "Well, gee, I just moved in here a few months ago..." thus answering both of the unasked questions. Suthunaz are masters at this.

Me? I'm just learning, after only 20 years.

The Snow is Gone!

Though it can hardly be expected to remain gone, the snow which vexed so much of the South has fled. Temperatures in the 50's overnight have caused all the snow within site of my homestead to be melted and gone. Huzzah. And I repeat: Huzzah.

With the onset of an early spring (ok, so maybe just for a week or so, but it is gone) the climbing temperatures have caused the Suthun Man to contemplate his existence, to compare himself, as it were, to Dante or perhaps Hercules....or maybe he just needs to get something gas fueled out and ride around the neighborhood.

Enter the first love of the Suthun Male: the Three Wheeler. I'm not sure exactly what causes this particular number of wheels to be chosen or to be coveted in such manner. It's just a smallish motorcycle with only 3 wheels (though sometimes 4, and known as an ATV or All Terrain Vehicle) and is usually not street legal. Do I have to spell this out?

Yes, not street legal - the Suthunah - means allow your young spawn to ride around the neighborhood on it for hours. Imagine someone with a chainsaw walking by your window every few minutes for 6 hours. Yes, that often. Kids (and yes, many grown ups) love these things. Though I'm not sure why. They can't go out on the highway, or even the local roads so you can't take it to work. You could use it to go hunting but that motor would scare off any game within a hundred miles.

It should come as no surprise that I don't own one of these, mainly because, unlike my mattock (with the neigh indestructible handle) I can't really see a need for such a thing. Perhaps if someone attached a mower blade to it I could get my lawn done in record time, but until then, well, I'll just study them a bit more.

Invention Intervention - Wintertime

Win
I love this invention. Apparently, as the story goes, the inventor of this barrell-sled had a nice sled stored in his shed, which burned down one day.

Undaunted, he found a plastic barrell at work and with a little help from one of the other guys there, he created this toboggan. Even has handles on the sides.

I love inventions like this. Now...if it only has a place to hold your beer....

Snow Vs Rain

By now it will come as no surprise to anyone that a 2100 mile snowstorm has stomped its way across the country like a bully at the beach and kicked snow in every one's faces. This, in the face of already record snowfalls in such places as New York, Chicago and even Washington DC.

Here in the South, we got snow, but it's gone now. We are about to get another nice big rainstorm. This rainstorm runs about 1200 miles across the southern US and parts of the Gulf. Not that I'm bragging or anything. I hate snow. As I've stated at least 37 times in the past 24 hours, I grew up in Colorado and have seen my share of snowstorms, shoveled walks and built my share of snowmen, snowforts and assorted snow...stuff.

I bring this up because although snow is not the reason I left Colorado, it is one of the reasons I love the South. If I had to choose, I prefer rain over snow and even over a hot humid summer in the hot sticky south.

Let's compare.

When it snows, you must shovel the walk. Any sort of accumulation is a possible dangerous icy situation waiting to happen. When it rains, you can't shovel it (Yes, Bubba, I tried) but, for the most part it runs off on it's own without any interference on anyone's part.

When it snows, you are stuck inside until the roads are cleared. When it rains, you can still get out, go places and just protect yourself with an umbrella.

If you can get out in the snow, you risk your life taking even the shortest trip to the store to stock up on milk, bread and eggs. (Yes, that's all they want, and for the life of me I have no idea why they don't want pizza, root beer and donuts.) Like the guy in the photo above, you just don't know what's out there waiting for you. With rain, the worst you have is a wet car, and need to get new wipers.

With snow, you can build a snowman, snowfort, or make snow angels. With rain, you can't really do anything like that, but why would you? You get wet if you lay down in it and the only thing you need to really make is Southern Sweet Tea with Clear Rainwater.

With snow you get snowdays. With rain, you don't. Let me clarify. When it snows, the schools are closed and you have bored kids stuck at home - INDOORS - screaming at each other to get on (or off) the Internet, watch their favorite shows, or whining because they are bored. With rain, they are at school.

Ok, so for the most part, too much rain can mean a flood, which we have had in spades. Too much snow can literally smash your house. But let's face it. That School Closing thing is what really gives the points to rain.

Rain in the South. Another good reason to live here.

The Southun Shade Mechanic

Not too long ago, I owned a 1960 MGB. It was a great car but had a habit of needing almost constant tweaking. One night in particular, I lost the ability to use the gas pedal. While I was standing there, miles from home, checking out the problem and trying to find a way to fix the dang thing with all the auto parts closed, a man stopped and asked if he could help. I told him that what I really needed was some baling wire. Amazingly, he had some. I restrung the gas pedal's cable with the baling wire and was on my way in no time.

What this little story illustrates is that there is a long history of what is known as the "Shade Tree Mechanic" (or STM.) The STM is that guy who repairs cars right where they sit, no need to tow it in, or even have a roof. AND for the sake of argument, we'll allow that the STM can also be found working at night, sans "Shade."

The 'STM' is both a good mechanic and is also a crafty inventor - much like my above example, restringing a cable with a length of baling wire.

When I first moved to Tennessee I met a guy who was the quintessential STM. He owned a car repair business but rather than a brick and mortar building, he had his business in a big truck which he brought to your location and made needed repairs. A true Suthun 'Good Ol Boy' he could just about dismantle my car blindfolded with a glass of sweet tea at his elbow.

That big truck had a distinctive sound and I got a kick out of the fact that he parked it in the shade of the only big tree in my front yard. Over the years, I've lost touch with him but during those few years I knew him, he was practically on speed dial.

These days we own a 10 yr old 4WD Jeep. As it gets older, more and more problems abound. For the most part, I take the car to someone qualified, but sometimes I can do the work myself (and blog about it to no end...I am nothing if not self important.) Even with those repairs bolstering my personal ego, I still yearn for the sound of that big truck as it came down the street and parked in the shade of my big elm out front.