Over the past few months, I have come to know Loretta Gillespie, a
writer for the Cullman Times and the Moulton Advertiser, and when I read
this article that she wrote in the Moulton paper last week, I asked her
if I could share it with our readers. She and her editor gave approval
to reprint the article, so I hope this helps give some recognition to
some of Alabama's unsung heroes during and after the April 27th tornado
outbreak:
Moulton Advertiser
Loretta Gillespie
May 7, 2011
"I Love Me Some Rednecks"
"Most all of us around here have born the brunt of remarks from people
outside Lawrence County about being rednecks. Well, I'm here to tell you
right now that I love me some Lawrence County rednecks!
Rednecks have Polan chainsaws, bulldozers, four-wheelers and big ol'
trucks - and they know how to use 'em. They aren't afraid of getting
dirty or of hard work.
As soon as the wind died down, they were the first ones out there,
clearing the roads for emergency vehicles to get to where they needed to
be. They were standing up to their knees in debris so that people could
get out of their driveways. They were checking on neighbors who lived in
the hardest hit areas where cars and normal vehicles didn't stand a
chance.
If you were the victim of the storm and found your driveway miraculously
cleared, you can thank a redneck. If you have a brush pile a mile high
and you didn't do it yourself, you can thank a redneck. If someone
brought you a shirt to put on your back that day, or hauled your
furniture to a storage facility, you can probably thank a redneck.
Those good ol' boys waded through water filled with gas and glass, nails
and torn tin roofs and no telling what else to offer assistance to
people stranded in the rubble of their homes. They worn camo jackets and
John Deere caps, spit tobacco and more than likely did a little cussing,
but they got the job done, and they are the ones who are still out there
cutting up trees and burning brush long into the night, just as they
have been ever since the storms hit.
They didn't wait to be asked...they just 'got 'er done' in the true
sense of the phrase. They didn't stand around jawing and waiting for
someone else to take charge, they went to work doing what they do best -
moving earth, pushing aside massive trees with root systems as big
around as a VW, and tossing aside boards with splinters the size of
kitchen knives.
And they did all this without any thought of their own comfort or
safety. They put their scuffed cowboy boots and worn work boots on the
ground and tread across roof beams and unsteady floors to make sure
there was no one left inside the wreckage of everything from two -story
brick houses to mobile home and barns. They already had a flashlight and
a pocket knife with them.
They rounded up their neighbor's cattle and horses and coaxed kittens
out of trees where the wind had tossed them and they cried like babies
when they found someone's hunting dog broken and bleeding.
They waded into poultry houses and caught terrified chickens, and tossed
mountains of dead ones onto piles to burn. They began to hang tarps and
nail plywood over broken windows to save their cousins and other kin
folk's belongings. They didn't stop for hours on end, hooking chains to
cars, trees and any and everything that had landed helter-skelter as the
tornados tore through.
Rednecks just show up when there is work to be done. They drive up and
with a silent nod, they just pitch in, salvaging refrigerators and
hooking up generators. They don't care if they look cool and they don't
have to shave before they leave the house. They are tough as nails and
love their mamas fiercely. They still say 'Yes, ma'm' and 'No, sir,' to
anyone older than they are. They eat cornbread and pinto beans and drink
tea so sweet a spoon will stand straight up in the glass. They sweat and
swear and have grease under their nails sometimes. They can deliver a
calf and half an hour later be sitting in church, scrubbed to a
fare-the-well. And did they ever save the day when the thunder rolled
and the lightning flashed and the wind knocked down the houses where
they were born?
They don't do it for the glory, and wouldn't dream of taking a dime for
it, and are sometimes even offended if someone asks how much they are
owed 'cause that's what rednecks do - they drive loud trucks, bobcats
and front-end loaders, they crank cantankerous chain saws and they know
the feel of rope burns and blistered faces. They get those red necks
from the sun beating down relentlessly as they labor in the dust and
smoke from all the brush fires. They think sun-screen is for sissies and
they don't worry much about anti-bacterial soap or drink fruit- flavored
water.
Give me a Lawrence County redneck any day when trouble comes - when
fences get blown over and the lights go out, and there are trees and
houses strewn like matchsticks as far as the eye can see, what in the
world would we do without these rednecks?
Thanks to all of you dear rednecks, you deserve medals for what you have
done in the past few weeks. And don't think the world didn't notice,
they did. In fact, somebody is probably writing a country song about you
as you read this."
Loretta Gillespie writes for the Moulton Advertiser
H/T to JL
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