We’ve seen the rednecks and they is us!

Tina Bausinger

I wouldn’t exactly call myself a redneck.  I mean, OK, here’s the facts. I am from Arkansas, and I’m probably not as cultured as you, but I took care not to marry my cousin and I do, in fact, use indoor plumbing.

That being said, when my family moved to Tyler, we moved up in pay scale and to a better neighborhood. At the time we moved, the family included me, my husband, three kids, two birds, a hamster and some random insects my son collects. I think the neighbors heaved a collective sigh of dismay when we showed up.

We tend to let our grass grow a bit too long, not so high that it covered up rusty cars or anything, but still a bit too long for our neighbor’s taste.  Also, we tend to leave our trash can out WAY beyond trash pickup day. GASP! I know you can’t believe it.

We have four drivers, and four cars, so the street and driveway in front of our house is starting to resemble a used car lot.  Also, there was a six month period where a dog toy was stuck on our roof after a particularly energetic game of fetch with our dog Lucy.  It was there so long I think it is included on the picture of our house on Google Earth. Yes, that was a bit embarrassing.

But eventually, we got the toy off the roof, hired a lawn guy, and assigned my son to bring the trash can up each week.  Still, we did feel just a tad self- righteous, and a bit relieved, when it appeared that the new neighbors down the street would now take the Trashiest Neighbor Award off our hands.

It started with an old treadmill in the front yard.  A few days later, there was an exercise bike and a few lawn chairs.  At first, I thought maybe they were planning on inviting Richard Simmons over for a front yard exercise class.  Then, a tent was draped across the treadmill.

Next, some random piles of wood and an old ice chest decorated the yard like pepperonis on a Pizza Hut Delivery special. A few days later, they actually erected the tent.  I figured the husband was sleeping out there.

It did make me feel good to drive by their house and laugh at the excess of junk.  I actually perfected the slow shake of my head and the tongue clucking of disgust as I drove by.  I toyed with the idea of calling Code Enforcement. I mean, it was getting bad.  I also thought about taking a picture and mocking them on Facebook. That seemed too harsh too.

Then one day, everything cleaned up.  I felt a little disappointed. It was kind of like when your dorky little brother who always acts up gets a Good Citizenship award at school. I felt cheated.

The really bad thing was when my husband cleaned out the garage.  I was washing the dishes when I looked out the back window and saw it.  Boxes and boxes of crap as far as the eye can see.

“Honey, what’s all that stuff?” I asked.  He was playing Halo or some other odd video game so intently he barely looked up.

“Huh?”  That’s about as good as I’m gonna get when he’s in the catatonic Halo state.

“I said, what’s all that crap out in the back yard?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m gonna clean that up.”  I breathed a sigh of relief.

“When?”

“Oh, eventually…” he said, put his ear buds in, and went back to slaughtering aliens.  I knew what that means.  Sometime in 2012, after 40 thunderstorms and a mosquito epidemic, when his boss is coming over for dinner, the stuff might be cleaned up.  That’s if it hasn’t sunk into the ground like some kind of ghetto junkyard.  I’ve toyed with the idea of paying someone to pretend to be a Hollywood producer looking for a set for his disaster movie to come knock on the door.  Maybe he’ll clean it up then. Maybe not.

We have seen the rednecks…and they is us.