Tales From The South, Part 3: Redneck Conversations, Second Amendment Cat Toys, And Lessons I Learned In The South.
This brings the end of my Tales of the South series in which I recall some of my fondest, and craziest, stories of the eighteen months I spent living in Texas.
In this last installment I’ll begin with one of my favourite things about living in the South — redneck conversations!
I had no idea that these types of conversations even existed and was amused beyond measure the first time I witnessed one. It was a unique experience for me as, having come from South Africa and Australia where people speak quickly, keep the conversation flowing, and ask numerous questions, observing the complete opposite left me gobsmacked. A redneck conversation is slow, filled with a lot of cussing, and has pauses long enough to launch a NASA spacecraft. The absolute best part of a redneck conversation is the constant repetition of the phrases, “you know what I’m sayin’?”, and the standard reply of “I do.”
The Cowboy and her best friend Bubba had numerous of these delicious conversations and I listened, totally enthralled by the back and forth. Now, I cannot include any transcripts of these interactions as the language leaves much to be desired, but believe me when I say that they are exquisite.
After one such conversation between the Cowboy and Bubba, which were always on speaker phone as she believed that holding the phone to her ear required energy she was not willing to spend, I asked her what the point of being on the phone was if there were these long silences.
“You don’t have to talk every second,” came her reply.
“Well, that is the point of a phone conversation,” I countered.
She just smiled knowingly, aware that I was clueless to redneck customs. These interactions soon became the norm and whilst the novelty of them waned slightly, I still marvelled at the length of the pauses, glancing over to see if she was still on the phone when one became painfully long.
One of the things that astounded me most about the Cowboy was her habit of staying quiet when something was on her mind and then complaining later that “no-one was listening to her,” — yes, I know what you’re thinking as I thought the same thing. Redneck is a nuanced language with much inconsistency and a good sprinkle of oblivious irony.
During my time with the Cowboy, I became fluent in redneck and to be honest, I love speaking the language more than you could possibly know. There is definitely a little redneck in me too!
The Cowboy was stabling one of her racing fillies at the local racetrack and we came across the sweetest little kitten that appeared to be living there. She was skinny and very hungry and I made the Cowboy take her food everyday when she went to tend to her mare.
One afternoon the Cowboy decided to bring the scrawny little critter home knowing that I was concerned about her amongst heavy horse hooves and unkind racehorse owners, showing up with the newest addition to our zoo in her truck. We named the little bundle Molly, and despite stating adamantly that she would not, the Cowboy bonded with her. I could see that Molly adored the Cowboy too and the relationship warmed my heart. A few weeks later I walked into a scene that even Hollywood screenwriters with the greatest imaginations couldn’t muster!
The Cowboy had bought a laser pointer at the grocery store for Molly but it broke soon after, and I walked in on her doing the most redneck thing possible: using the guide laser on her handgun to play with the kitten. Was I seeing things?
“What the hell are you doing? Have you lost your damn mind?” I stammered.
“Don’t worry, the safety’s on,” she said as if I was yet again responding dramatically to something perfectly natural.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“Oops, well maybe not,” she said sheepishly as she checked. “It is now,” she hurriedly added as she flicked the catch with a grin.
“I’ll kill you if you hurt her,” I warned, deadly serious.
Having said all that, it did amuse me no end to see Molly dashing around the living room floor after a red light whose purpose was to help you aim accurately enough to kill something. Good Lord! Was my redneck growing?
I’ll end this series of Tales of the South with the main lessons that I learned from my time in the Lonestar State. I may have had a wealth of knowledge before heading to Texas, but I could never have imagined how much more I would know by the time I left. For example: a good piece of pie can be as elusive at the abominable yeti, there’s nothing like a good old American diner, and that looking up at a water tower makes you think of every teen angst movie from the eighties.
I learned that Ford and Chevy owners hate each other for reasons I still cannot understand, that trying to get a southerner off a southern diet is a mission impossible, and that horse noses may be one of God’s greatest inventions! I now know that stacking hay requires more strength than Zeus needed to defeat the Titans, that goats are very good companions for horses, and to always check high hay bales for sleeping snakes.
I learned that ‘vegetarian’ is a bad word in the south and finding good vegetarian food in San Antonio equates to the hunt for the Loch Ness Monster, that Texans panic when they know that a vegetarian is coming to lunch or dinner without realizing that a lot of their staples are indeed, vegetarian: salad, collard greens, sweet potatoes, black-eyed peas, to name but a few. I learned that when a horse licks its lips it’s thinking and to give it time to make its decision.
I learned that many of the clichés in movies highlighting a southern way of life are actually quite accurate, plus super fun and jaw-dropping to observe.
I learned how to speak redneck and revelled in the phrases “them’s fightin’ words” and “liars lie,” whilst trying to navigate the deep recesses of the obscured reality that exists in certain minds. I heard “get my gun” uttered in a real-life situation and saw one used as a cat toy. I heard the second amendment preached with as much fervour as the bible, and with more delusion that I ever thought possible. I also heard the word “darlin’” spoken with such gentleness and love that it took on a whole new meaning. I experienced both the dysfunction and the beauty of a world that existed almost seventy years ago as the Cowboy struggled to shift her 1950s mindset into present day.
What I learned the most though was that “y’all” may be the greatest word in the English language, that southern etiquette is delightful, that very little compares to hot summer nights in the country where the stillness speaks to your soul.
I learned that neon signs make me happy, that dark bars can heal a heart, that stadium lights bring people together despite personal differences, that trucks are one of the world’s greatest inventions, and that stars look even brighter when laying in the bed of one.
I learned that the American South is where a well-travelled South African girl can go to find pure joy.
For more craziness from my time in the Lonestar State, make sure you read part 1 and part 2 of my Tales from the South.
