Hillbillies vs Rednecks

I always figured Hillbillies and Rednecks were pretty much the same thing.  I've lived both lifestyles and can assure you they are not.

I grew up in the foothills of California as a proud Hillbilly.  We loved music, moonshine, and evenings by a campfire.  I now live in Kansas and they love big trucks, beer, and barbecues.  I realize these aren't huge differences but I'm about to explain to you the thing that really sets these two apart.

Had we owned computers in the hills and used Facebook to sell stuff around our house you'd likely see things like this Washtub Bass. A prized possession to any true Hillbilly.

Here in Kansas I keep seeing things like this posted for sale on Facebook:

I see stuff like this all the time around here!  It's shocking to me!  It doesn't mean Hillbillies are better because they're more peace loving people, it just means they are different than Rednecks. 

Why? 

Because a Hillbilly would NEVER sell his guns!

Just sayin'

A Lesson In The Park

When eating my daily lunch in the park I position myself so I can see the man sitting hunched over on the park bench. Above him is an old, decommissioned Army helicopter perched upon a pole for display. The man mirrors the helicopter, also appearing obsolete and on display. His weary face is contemplative.

I reach into my bag of chips and put another into my mouth savoring the saltiness. Between bites I look at the man and wonder why he comes every day.

Occasionally other regulars join me. I don’t mind. I enjoy the company. Sometimes they talk about the lonely old man on the bench.

“Is he crazy?”
I tell them no.
“I think he’s a bum,” some say.
I don’t reply. I just glance at him and pop another chip into my mouth.

Today a new person joined me. I learned he had just returned from Iraq. His eyes revealed a haunted soul. With an unexpected chill I averted my eyes back to the old man. He followed my gaze and I braced myself for the usual line of questions. They never came. He arose from the table, marched towards the park bench, and sat next to him. The old man became attentive as the young soldier pointed at the helicopter. Soon the old man began to sit up straighter and hold his head higher. He no longer looked so old and sad. I was stunned to see them engaged in animated conversation.

Unable to contain my curiosity, I did the unthinkable. I approached the man on the bench. I had never disturbed him during these lunchtimes but had to know what had stimulated such a drastic change. The young man excitedly filled me in.

“This man fought in Vietnam!” Yes, I knew that. “He was a pilot!” I knew that too.
“This was HIS helicopter!” I looked at the man on the bench in disbelief then at the weathered, war torn helicopter. I didn’t know that! Suddenly I realized the importance of his coming here each day.

The young man got up, snapped to attention and saluted the old war veteran. “Have a great day, Sir!” He then said, “This man deserves to have everyone call him Sir.”

With a new understanding I looked at the old man and a tear rolled down my cheek. His eyes locked with mine and I felt a new, almost spiritual connection. Finally, I understood. The young soldier was right.

“Yes, as do you Sir, but if you don’t mind I’d prefer to address him as I always have.” I proudly reached for the old man’s hand and gripped it tightly.

“Come on Dad, It’s time to go home.”

Kansas Creepy Crawlers

Living in a heavily wooded area is something I always thought I wanted.  One of the first things I did after buying my house is have hubby cut a hole in the wall to install French Doors so I could have an unobstructed view of what I then considered 'Paradise'.  Just look at it...who wouldn't love to look at this view while enjoying their morning cup of coffee?

Beautiful, isn't it?  Well, don't let it fool you.  It only took me a short time to realize that everything of beauty has hidden flaws. 

My first realization that my paradise was less than grand was when my then teenage son ran upstairs yelling for me to get the shotgun.  More than a little confused I asked why on earth he would need the shotgun.  He informed me that there was a snake downstairs....IN THE HOUSE!

My first instinct was to give him the shotgun so I ran towards the room where it's kept. As I was running, somehow reason kicked in and I realized firing a shotgun inside the house might not be the best idea. 

I decided that he must have imagined this 'snake' or that he greatly exaggerated it so I asked him to show it to me.  I walked slowly down the stairs with a broom in my hand ready to do battle with whatever monster awaited me.  As I reached the bottom of the stairs my first vision I was met with was two of my son's friends standing on my pool table.  One was doing an eerily good impression of Steve Irwin. 'By Crocky, that's a Big-un'!  I quickly joined them on the pool table while my son searched for the snake which the boys said had slithered behind the sofa.

His friends reluctantly agreed to help my son move the sofa away from the wall and lo and behold there was no snake.  They looked under the sofa, behind the sofa, and nothing was to be found.  In utter confusion they stood there wondering how a snake that big could just disappear.  I reminded them that the sofa had a hideaway bed and they should pull it out just to make double sure the snake was gone.

They pulled the bed out and sure enough, there it was.  All six slithering feet of it curled into a nice little snuggle.  I don't recall my feet touching the floor but I somehow managed to fly through the air to the staircase and make my way to the top floor in milliseconds!  Nobody expects to find this curled up in their sofa!

I bravely ran to the neighbor for help.  He informed me that it was a harmless black snake and that he wouldn't kill it but would capture it and release it in the creek in the woods.  I'm not a card carrying member of PETA or a supporter of animal cruelty, but in this case, my preference would have been a death sentence for breaching my security defenses and endangering my health.  Okay, so it wouldn't have killed me if it bit me but I probably would have died of a heart attack which would have made it at least an accessory to my death! 

I've seen several more snakes since that day and I wish I could say I've gotten used to them but I haven't, and likely never will.  Thankfully, this one was not venomous but there are plenty in my paradise that are.  Cottonmouths, Water Moccasins, Cobras....okay, there are no Cobras that I'm aware of but there might as well be as far as I'm concerned.

My 'Paradise' has turned into more of a remnant of some Tropical Rain Forrest.  The mosquito's are even Amazonian!  I fear catching Dysentery, Malaria, or any plethora of diseases just walking out to my car to leave this serpent's den.

Until the economy turns around and I can afford a place far away from critters and creepy crawlers I am in search of a dog like this.

I don't need a watchdog to keep people away.  I'm not afraid of people.  I'll face off against a robber any day, but facing down something that terrifies me to my very core is just not feasible at this time.  If you know who owns this dog please let them know I'm interested.

Until next time...