Looking for a few good things...

These good things include: a sponsored RV, a camera (or two, or crew), lots of peanut butter and Diet Coke. My kids and I will use these things to create family-adventure/educational progamming Summer 2011. Four Corners of the Country - Florida to San Diego to Seattle to Maine and back to Florida. C'mon, take a chance!

Must be more fun.

No more long winded. No more diatribes. Okay, maybe some of those. We'll keep it short and sweet, and hopefully find some sunshine (read: laughter) here and there. God knows we need it!

Leave It To A Redneck

I've been informally polling people for a while now about what makes them proud to be where they're from. Admittedly, it's been a small pool, and I've been specific about their source. I haven't had the best of luck. Or any luck, really.

Some responses, upon direct face-to-face questioning have resulted in answers that completely surprised me ranging from, "I never really thought about it," to "I don't have anything to be proud of," to "I don't tell people where I'm from because I'm kind of ashamed and embarrassed."

I did have a few folks tell me to contact them again as they wished to share some positive memories and perceptions - but they needed more time, which came across, unintentionally, of course, as somewhat negative in its own right. Surely, they could encapsulate or bullet point their proudest points, and then consider lengthier discussions afterward. The blatant immediate ommission, the need to delay for further clarification or necessary elucidation carried it's own, albeit unconscious, message.

I'm talking about living in Florida. I've lived here now for 8 years and in that time have met many folks who, like myself, have transplanted themselves here for one reason or another, many who are here transitionally by assignment (read: military), and of course, those who were born and raised here, and quite a few whose roots go back a number of generations.

I even have one myself...my daughter was born right here in the Sunshine State, and has lived her entire life among suburban saw palemetto groves, armadillos, anoles, alligators, and air conditioning. She's traveled out-of-state, and even internationally, but basically, her outlook is Floridian. Though curious about snow, she hates the cold. Flip flops or bare is her footwear of choice, and who cares about the humidity, there's always somewhere and sometime to swim. I'm not saying that's all there is, but well, she is after all, only seven.

With all my connections, I couldn't find one person I knew who could or would just sum it up simply. No superlatives came from anyone. Not even about the foundational industries - the best oranges, world class tourism destinations, pristine beaches - none of that, even as a place holder for future conversation.

This was not boding well. The primary reason I began this quest to find a connection of pride to my newly chosen home was in light of the unerring slide of disappointment as of late with the direction the state is going. With a legislature full of self-serving, short-sighted, close-minded puppets passing law after law designed apparently to send this state back its pre-Civil War era roots...I needed (and still do) to find something to connect myself and my children to with positive ramifications for the future.

And I think I just may have. I spent this weekend in Miami and got to meet a lot of folks from all over the world from all walks of life. I posed the same question to many of them (Floridian or not) just to see if the question was really that difficult. And it wasn't. Most folks were able to cough up at least one or two nuggets of pride - whether it be literacy rates, healthcare, great partying, easy lifestyle, low cost of living...most everyone had a reason.

Except the Floridians. Uncanny, no?

Until I met Richard (not to be confused with my husband, Richard - who is born and bred Brooklyn, and will, in all likelihood, if he passes away in Florida, put as such as his epitaph). This Richard is from central Florida - or as he put it, east of town. Which from what I gather is somewhere between Orlando (town) and the Atlanic coast. He didn't even hesitate for a moment when I asked him. Here's a basic recollection of the conversation:

Me: "What makes you proud to be a Floridian?"
Richard: "Just look to the rednecks."
Me: "Excuse me?"
R: "Look to the rednecks, they say it all."

Admittedly, I took pause in the conversation as, well, I wanted to tread lightly. I wasn't sure of his demeanor and whether he was being sarcastic or not. And to be honest, based on my own sense of stereotypes, "rednecks" are not high on my list of pride points for any area, let alone where I now call home.

M: "Um, well...I'm not sure where you're going with this - but,"
R: "Put your prejudice away," (I didn't realize I displayed it so terribly), "and look at what they can do."

I still didn't get it.

R: "They can do anything. They're entirely self-sufficient. They're hungry, they can kill a boar, skin it, clean it, cook it and eat it. They blow a gasket on the truck, they'll fix it. They need a new compressor, they work for it. Don't matter what they do, if it pays they'll do it. They have no shame in toil. Toil is what made America. Toil is what we're built on. Rednecks aren't ashamed of work and toil. They don't need anyone to tell them how to do anything. They don't gotta pay anyone to fix something, or bring them something, or take care of something. Hole in the roof? Patch it. And they'll patch yours and charge you three times as much."

I wasn't sure Richard would stop - but was slightly relieved he took a pause here. Richard is a big man, and a passionate one. And his breathing was getting a bit labored and he got more and more into his points.

"You gotta get out of the town, the city, and certainly the suburbs to find Crackers who are proud of their heritage. All those others, they're too dang soft. They can't do anything for themselves, they're always trying to outdo one another, always showing shit off, paying through the nose for the most ridiculous things. What do they have to be proud of? That they can buy things? That because of the sweat of crackers and all them migrants who do all the jobs they won't they can keep their fancy cars and pools, and have their hand-picked produce fresh at the market? What can they do? What can they make? What can they do for anyone else?"

I couldn't fault him yet. There really wasn't anything he said that was outrightly incorrect, other than some poor grammatical choices. I think he sensed my sudden uncomfort, as much of what he was saying applied to me. I fit right into the stereotype he was presenting. Born and raised in suburbia. We paid folks to take care of things. I wasn't raised with any particular survival skills - my biggest exposure of my youth being that one summer at Girl Scout camp where we learned how to set gypsy moths on fire using someone's glasses. I was cultured, yes. I was educated, surely. And now, after some years of exploration and adventures in lifestyles, and some real-life experiences between freshman year of college and now, I've returned to that comfort. Where the houses and lawns are all beautiful and manicured, and there's not a lot of radical anything...we're all sort of same-ish, some with a little more, some with a little less. The kids want for nothing really, and they knew how to order off menus before they learned how to make a scramble egg or even a peanut-butter sandwich for themselves.

Richard continued, "Don't get me wrong...I'm all for education, and for culture (damn, was he reading my mind?)...it all has its place. But you gotta DO something with it if that's what you're gonna be about. It doesn't LOOK like rednecks do anything with their skills, but they do. Like I said, they ain't afraid to toil. And everything they do makes all that other stuff possible. What do all those fancy suburb and town people do with their skills? Do they give anything back to anyone else? Does what they do make a redneck's life better? I'm proud, I tell you, I'm proud to be a cracker. To be a redneck. I can make it."

And then we had to go. I think I've got a place to start now, and I think Richard may have made some bigger points about society and America at large than he even meant to. We'll explore that soon. But for now, I'll just leave you as he left me. With those words and the time to absorb them and contemplate them. Or not.

Good night for now...Meet you at the Featherball...

Fred Astaire, Where Are You Now?

I think I lead a pretty decent life. And in saying that, I'm referring to the decisions I make every day. I don't have fancy cars, or that inground pool with a spa, or get my hair did every other week - and maybe if I made some different decisions I'd have more means to accomodate those kinds of whims and flights of fancy. But I'm happy with the majority of the choices I make every day.

I'm not an impulsive sort - I do take a moment or two to consider the outcomes, and how they will affect other people - their feelings, their workloads, their lives, etc. And again, maybe if I didn't so much I'd have some different things of my own. And I'm not implying that all those with greater means, necessarily live their lives with any less thoughtfulness. I know it seems that way, but bear with me.

It's just that things aren't as important to me as my big three - being kind, being courteous, and being thoughtful. No church taught me that. No big reference book gave me guidelines. They're just what feel right, and I try to live them every day. There's not a lot of it these days. There hasn't been in years, and you see it less and less. Crabby people and characters are glorified and celebrated, acts of violence and terror are everywhere we turn, adultery and betrayal get the air time.

So sometimes I feel like I need to double up. Though for the most part, it's like spitting into the wind, or digging a hole at the edge of the ocean - at least it feels that way quite often. But I can't give up. I won't give up. I just can't be that person.

Don't get me wrong, I ain't no saint by any means. I don't judge folks and don't hold myself on a pedestal. I've made some lousy choices of words and actions in my life - we all do, but I strive to make them better. Every day. Especially in the presence of children.

I observe many children in our local elementary school - through volunteering at the school, girl and boy scout programs, sport leagues, etc. And each and every opportunity dampens my spirit. For every bright, shining moment, there's three or four dark clouds that roll in. Pouting, hissy fits, sarcasm, rudeness, demands, posturing...seem to have become the norm, rather than the occasional occurance. I've even seen children choose to act that way because they've seen other children act that way, and succeed.

Children are not naturally like this. At least, that's what I choose to believe. They pattern what they see, what they are surrounded with most. As they get older these behaviors become more apparent. The words that they utter, the phrases - are not organic to eight, nine, and ten year-olds. The contstant outright defiance and lack of willingness to cooperate is out of line with what seems to be the natural way of things. The selfishness and impatience have no grounding in source - it's just demonstrated because they can.

But I look around at the adults, including myself. We tend to NOT censor ourselves, or rather we don't do it enough. We may not discuss sex or the torrid encounters of our own youth, but we do gossip, libel, and complain...constantly in front of impressionable children. We tear others down, both celebrity, politicians and commonfolk, often without even knowing why. We are rude to those who serve us; we are impatient with those who don't serve us fast enough; we are cruel to those serve us wrong (though we may not understand the circumstances as to why).

We dress inappropriately - both men and women. We've lost respect for many traditions (when was the last time you saw someone take their ballcap off in a restaurant, or during the national anthem?). We burp and fart flagrantly without excusing ourselves. We have forgotten please and thank you and may I. We often don't even say good bye, much less say hello. We refuse eye contact with strangers. We walk with our heads down and move swiftly by. We ignore our children and suffocate them with supervision at the wrong times. We get drunk in front of them.

Fred Astaire once said, "The hardest job kids have today is to learn good manners without seeing any." That was a long time ago. I can't imagine what he'd have to say today.