Where I grew up, belief in God, a stiff pair of Wranglers and beer from a can was the benchmark by which all people were judged. Stray from that well-worn formula in my little country high school and you were likely to reap ridicule and ostracism from the folks who attended there. If there is one thing that rural Tennessee high schoolers strictly adhere to is conformity. The more alike, the better. And so, as a consequence, rowdy rednecks were goddamn everywhere.
They were easy to spot. The dress code was simple, both for boy and girl rednecks. First of all, boots were mandatory. In the parlance of the region the proper term is "shitkickers." Boots worn sometimes varied from the traditional sharp-toed cowboy boot, often replaced with a soft, tan workboot. On occasion a pair of hiking boots would traipse into the picture. Pants were blue jeans, Levis or Wranglers only, starched and stonewashed or creased and indigo blue, never in between. They were always tight and always tapered. Belts were a must, worn with large brass buckles that said things like "Jack Daniels" or "Southern by the Grace of God." Shirts varied some–mostly t-shirts, sometimes knit and short-sleeved, but mostly they were the colorful Garth Brooks-inspired Western jobbies with pearl snaps instead of buttons. If it was time to go out line dancing or to the local football game, no look was complete without a crisp, speckless black cowboy hat. The chicks’ hats were their enormous bangs.
After the girls polished off a bottle of hairspray and the boys used up a whole can of car wax on their trucks, they’d often head to the Square, park in front of the county’s tiny courthouse and drink beer and holler. Other activities included scheduled fights at the Sycamore Rec or, my least favorite, field parties.
I’m not sure how many of you know what a field party is, so I’ll give you the best description I’ve got. Usually some kid’s family owned 75 acres of woods and open plains behind their home. When that kid got the urge to kick it, he’d invite his freinds to drive far, far out into the woods to sit on hay bails and build a bonfire and drink canned beer. Some guy would open up his truck’s doors and blare some Alan Jackson while people got really drunk and yee-hawed. I wish I was kidding.
You can’t blame them too much for the choice of extracirricular
activities. It was either beer bongs in a field or participate in a
D.A.R.E. dance troupe/sketch team that performed brain-numblingly trite
songs filled with misinformation about drug use to elementary schoolers
who’d just graduated from the D.A.R.E. program.
Myself a member of this D.A.R.E. acting troupe I performed a dance to
Bonnie Tyler’s "Total Eclipse of the Heart" wherein dancers wore
t-shirts reading COCAINE or TOBACCO. I would hug each dancer to
symbolize I had used the equally harmful cocaine and tobacco then,
literally, spin out of control. My God. You can see now why most of the
students chose to booze it up rather than humiliate themselves in such
a manner.
Even though I taught the dangers of drug use to little kids, I still
attended the dark gatherings in the woods. I just never drank. I would,
however, get a little thrill when the police (inevitably) showed up watching drunk, nightblinded teenagers running from blue lights
into a pitch-dark forest. I remember one unlucky young man running fulltilt into a barbed wire fence.
What I hated most was the rampant racism and ignorance. Confederate
flags (always called "rebel flags") draped a lot of the town. They were
made into hood adornments, headbands and even swimsuits. Hoisting huge,
billowing rebel flags on one’s enormous truck (often with the exhaust
modified to be even louder) was very common. Every morning coming to
school looked like a fucking Civil War pride parade.
Eventually the flag (or any racially-"motivated" clothing or
accessory) was banned from school’s campus after the seven or so black
kids in school finally spoke up about how offensive it was to them.
This happened at that year’s homecoming football game where both white
kids and black kids whipped out firearms to make their points. No one
was shot or even shot at, but after that night the administration took
the racially charged atmosphere at my school very seriously.
And I’m not exaggerating about the number of black kids that
attended my high school. There was only one Asian kid in my whole
grade, on she was only half Asian and had one of the thickest Southern
accents I’ve ever heard. Foreign exchange students–who must have been
heartbroken to learn they’d be attending school in the sticks of
Tennessee, not LA or NYC like they’d asked–were treated as if they’d
just slithered off a space ship. In truth, the kids at my school were
very kind and generous to our imports, but they riddled the Spanish girl
with questions like, "Will you teach me to speak Mexican?" Or they’d
ask the German guy if he was a Nazi.
Anyone who dyed their hair an unnatural color was automatically a
huge freak, unless they were also a guy, in which case he was also a
cocksucking faggot. Speaking of which, there wasn’t a single openly gay
student in the entire 1,000 student population. I now know, almost 10
years later, only one kid I grew up with that is now out. Of course, I
don’t so much keep up with my old classmates.
My fondest memories, though, of growing up in a rural nowhere town
are of the roads. With not so much as a single movie screen to occupy
our time, cars were our escape. Whether I was driving myself or riding
silently with friends, I very much liked whipping down the endless
winding roads down by the river where the streetlights ended and the
stars began. We’d coast over the bridge and out to where the trees
bowed to autumn’s gusts with the radio off, windows down, the smell of
poplars and hickory trees almost as loud as the sounds of crickets and
tires on gravel. We would travel the bended roads singing songs or
telling jokes while pastures and steeples flew past us to reveal more
of the same.
My ten year renunion is this year and I’m not sure I’ll attend. That
time and place seems farther away than even a decade. Maybe if we all
piled into the bed of a pickup and set out to relearn the roads we
memorized in our youth I’d be more inclined to attend. Somehow I imagine
there will just be a bunch of beer in cans and a bunch of yee-hawing.
14 comments ↓
I attended my 5 year reunion, which was a joke because everyone I gave a damn about was still in my life on a regular basis. I skipped my 10 and 20 year reunions, though.
Yeesh, 20 years… That was in 2003. It’s amazing how little I wanted to see those people again. A where-are-they-now book that was printed for the reunion (I bought one) confirmed the validity of my choice to skip the event. Most of the folks who submitted info are now married with 4+ kids and are born again Christians. Lots of these folks were the out of control party kids at my high school. Had I attended, I’m sure the conversation would be more Godly and less “remember when…”
And I share similiar memories of field parties. Northern Virginia was still somewhat rural back in my high school days so there was no shortage of farms and empty fields to trash with our bonfires and beer. There was always some idiot who brought denatured alcohol, too. You could be 30′ or more away from the bonfire and still feel scorched after half a bottle of that shit hit the flames.
Post-high school I spent some time hanging out with rednecks up in Cabin John, Maryland. They were more hickish than the rednecks from NoVa. In addition to All Of The Above they added some kind of truck-bed surfing thing a la Boys Don’t Cry (if you haven’t seen the movie, I apologize. I don’t know how to describe it and have my description make sense). Ah, youth.
Now I’m a graphic design student (career change), I’m married, and two beers are enough to give me a skull buckling hangover. Times/people change.
Sadly that reaction to us “for’ners” is the same whether here, or up North or out on the West Coast. I’ve been presented with the following quite consistently since moving to the U.S. from Singapore:
“You ever get caned for breaking the law?” (no)
“Did you know that kid who got caned?” (yes)
and the best yet:
“Did you have cars in Singapore?”
I’m sure it’ll be fun at your reunion. I’m making my boyfriend go to his so I get to see how many of his private schoolmates turned into hardcore republicans.
You bring back such memories….
A few years back a very close friend of mine died far too young. I went back to town for the funeral with friends and was amazed at how many former classmates were there. I asked one of them why so many people stayed in town for so long and they said they hadn’t, but the ten year reunion was the night before the funeral and someone had seen the obituary in the paper. I felt no remorse about missing the reunion but my friend had always thought of his high school days as his best years, so I thought that was a wonderful way for him to pass on.
just substitute rural oklahoma, and it’s spot on for me.
Gadzooks. And i thought going to Riverdale in the ‘Boro was sucky. We were at least advanced to the extent that the boot-wearing cowboyhatters were reduced to a fringe minority…
Sounds a lot like growing up in rural PA, but with more cowboy hats and minority students. No less rednecks.
I went to high school in Theodore, AL, on the outskirts of Mobile. Wasn’t too much different, although the students were a slight bit more diverse. I went to my 10 yr reunion in June. I was, um, pretty drunk (to say the least) in order to make myself get through it. It was a huge waste of time, but I’m glad I went so that I have no regrets and I won’t waste time in future going to anymore. I can get sloshed, sit in the corner, and make fun of people anywhere, anytime. I don’t have to go back home to do it ;) It is nice, however, to let people appreciate how fabulous you look 10 years later, hehehehehe. Oh how I am happy and evil.
Honestly, it sounds a lot like going to high school -anywhere-. Your post is not that strange of a revelation, as there is always something that separates the “in” kids from the out.
Money, Southern Pride, Race, Status, Sports we -all- dealt with it somehow. So, looking back shouldn’t be, “oh man, my high school experience was so dismal,” becuase… it’s the same for over 80% of the rest of us. Looking back should be: “Wow, my high school experience was riddled with the importance of status, racist remarks, WAY too much southern pride, and elitism, and yet I turned into a well adjusted adult who was able to recognize the problem and rise above it.” The other 20% who didn’t all (probabl)y grew up to think of High School as the best days of their lives, and are probably living lives that reflect this belief. Or, they went to college and learned that, in general, those attitudes don’t fly as smoothly in upper education. After a bit of culture shock and exposure to “life as it happens in the real world” they probalby adjusted. If not, they joined a frat or sorority and kept on truckin.
So, don’t dwell, and definitely don’t feel like your experience was any worse than the norm.. becuase it wasn’t. Instead, consider that finding your way above it is the big deal.
I was suprised at how much fun I had at my 10-year reunion, actually.
Nice post. Reminds me of my days in Morristown TN. I mean, hell, I only live in Oak Ridge now, but world’s apart in terms of what was available in Mo’ Town (that is to say, nothing), and what was doable in Knoxville (which is to say, everything).
I remember quite a few field parties, and I remember the underage drinking (I must admit I partook). It’s been a long time since I saw anyone from my hometown. I don’t particularly miss them, either. My 10 year reunion would be in two more years, and I don’t think I have any inclination to go.
It’s somewhat nice to know that rural PA is much the same as rural anywhere USA. Me, I’m torn somewhat between the backroad-field-party-good-old-boy past, and my way more open-minded, semi-urban present. As for class reunions, I’ve never caught wind of any (been out of HS for 9 years–maybe 10 will be the first?), but I think I’d really like to go actually.
It’s really nice to read your beautiful thoughts and observations on this, and connect so well with them.
Was membership in the KKK also mandatory? LOL
“Foreign exchange students–who must have been heartbroken to learn they’d be attending school in the sticks of Tennessee, not LA or NYC like they’d asked–were treated as if they’d just slithered off a space ship”
Just wanted to say that the above line made me LOL. And also that I remember seeing that god-awful skit set to Bonnie Tyler when I was a wee lad. Only for us, the performers were mentally challenged adults. It was quite interesting to say the least.
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