Redneck Respect

This morning on the news I caught the whiff of a segment on the growing number of reality TV shows about “Rednecks” such as Here Comes Honey Boo Boo and Hill Billy Hand fishing.   First I must confess that I have never actually seen any of these shows except for the moments shown on the news or on late night talk shows.  There is a lot of interest in “Rednecks” these days but I am worried that Yankees and the uber educated are actually confused between Rednecks and PWT’s.

See I have great respect for actual Rednecks because the term is derived from people who work outside bent down, face to the soil growing food for us, thus getting a red neck from over sun exposure.  Most of these reality TV shows are not about those hard working people.

The entertaining and often uneducated people who make great subjects for TV are PWT’s, which stands for “Poor White Trash.”  Now there can be Rednecks who are at the same time also PWT’s, but not all PWT’s are Rednecks.  Here is an example of the difference; a Redneck might be missing an important tooth or two because they did not have the money to go to the dentist, a PWT might be missing an important tooth because his cousin punched him after he found out he was sleeping with his wife and his mouth hit the bar as he fell over.  I am sure this is a distinction that is lost on many who just see people without teeth, but I feel the need to defend hard working farmers.

I write this today because I harvested my sweet potato crop.  I am using the word crop very liberally since I don’t think five plants make much of a harvest, especially in my case.  This is the first time I have tried to grow sweet potatoes and I feel quite unsuccessful at it.

In the end my plants were lush and beautiful after having deer come and denude all the plants not just once, but twice, which probably did not help my potato production.  After pulling the vines up and digging around I found just about 18 sweet potatoes ranging in size from four pounds down to a few ounces.  A couple looked like they could even be sold in a store, but most were gnarly and pock marked and as ugly as I imagine Russ Limbaugh’s rear side to be.  I have no idea how they taste yet and won’t for a while because I have to “cure” them by leaving them in a box in a warm spot for a week or two.

Next time you enjoy some sweet potato fries, take a moment and silently give thanks to the farmer who grew them.  They may be missing some teeth but I would like to know what they know about bringing food out of the ground.  It is harder than you think.