I'm Always Thinking Of Home

No matter where I visit, I am always thinking of Dana Point and how we compare. It’s my civic duty to participate in our grand sprucing-up scheme. I love makeovers, and I’ve got plenty of tips.

First, I advocate stealing.

Please don’t go rip off a lighthouse or something. I’m talking about ideas. Let’s take other cities successes and make them our own. We need a distinctive style, one that sets us apart from, say, San Clemente or Laguna Beach. We’ve dabbled in “Cape Cod,” thrown in a splash of “Aloha,” and said “Ole!” to some Spanish.

But today, as I write this column from the Nashville airport, I smacked myself upside the head when I realized the answer was right before my eyes. Dana Point could use a dose of “Redneck Style.”

I am here for the wedding of my niece Andrea to her beloved Tommy and a visit with my favorite brother, Bob Totty a.k.a. “Tennessee Thunder” on the drag racing circuit. I used this time to infiltrate the Redneck camp and learn their ways. They never suspected a thing. A few even asked, “Are y’all fixin’ to write about us?”

You better believe it. There’s a lot we can learn. Here’s how to tell if we’re a redneck:

Redneck Family Style—the definition of family to a redneck is simple. If you’re here, you’re family. Since everyone you meet is most likely a cousin, it’s best to treat them right nice right from the start. Tommy taught me that when I went to shake his hand. He looked at me like I was a three-headed goat, “I don’t know where y’alls from, but we hug women here.” Dana Point men, take note.

Redneck Redevelopment Agency—rednecks know to put their money where it counts, on the fun stuff. Life begins when the factory shift ends. I shouldn’t have been surprised to see that Gary’s big ol’ RV with its sixteen slideouts was larger than his house. Y’all got to budget for the toys.

Redneck Tourism Board—there is no redneck tourism board because you aren’t a tourist. Y’all are family, remember? You don’t worry about pedestrian-friendly ‘cuz everybody drives a pick-up everywhere. No one walks. How are you going to carry your cooler full of beer?

I asked the clerk at the motel if I could walk to shops. She said, “There’s a Wal-Mart over yonder, but I wouldn’t walk.”

“Why?” I asked. “Is this a bad neighborhood?”

“Nah,” she said. “I’m just lazy, is all.” So I paid six bucks for a block-long cab-ride where I was informed by the chain-smokin’lady cab driver that I looked exactly like her bartender friend Patsy ‘cept she wears make-up and has more on the upper deck. It bugged me because I was wearing make-up. Another lesson: rednecks are brutally honest.

Redneck Sports—rednecks love their football with a passion and intensity that borders on insane. In California, we create 12-step programs for addictions like this. The University of Tennessee’s team colors are bright orange and white. This in no way derails anyone from painting entire rooms of their homes, you got it, bright orange and white. What rednecks know is that football is the great equalizer, turning strangers into friends—or enemies—depending on what team you support. Maybe it’s time to get out there and root for our Dolphins…

Redneck Names—rednecks don’t call anyone “dude” especially not girls, which is sort of refreshing. Y’all might be called “Boy” or “Girl” and it might be the equivalent to a slap in the face or an arm slung around a shoulder depending on the tone of voice. Rednecks respect their elders. Parents are often called “Daddy” and “Momma” no matter how old their children. I am “Miss Jody” to the kids even though I am married. The security guard at the airport just called me “Missy.” That’s because I’m family.

Rednecks are also partial to double names, names that end in “y” and nicknames. So don’t be worried that “Animal” can crush beer cans with his forehead. He probably can, but then he’ll offer you a cold one from the bed of his Ford F-150. My family has carried Robert E. Lee’s name down through the generations. It doesn’t seem to matter that the South lost the war; it’s enough that they are Southern.

So Dana Point, let’s treat strangers like family, have a little fun, show some respect, and never forget to say, “Y’all come back now, y’hear?”