Counter Culture

Everyone talks about culture.
How important it is to introduce your kids to it, expose them to it.
Blah blah blah.
And we all know when one speaks of culture they are referring to the WASP definition of "culture." The white bred trilogy of art, literature and theatre. (See how I used the European spelling-- how cleverly waspy of me.)
As a parent I've been there done that with Carmella, even, surprisingly--though less frequently--with Beau.

Carmella has been to NYC, she has been to the High museum and seen numerous exhibits--so has Beau. They have been to gallery openings (yes, mostly Lala's but whatever) and they have been to plays, the ballet and puppet shows. I've bored them with Whitman and Shakespeare.
How else do you think I got them to sleep through the night by 3 months old? I remembered how Leaves of Grass lulled me right to sleep in my American Romanticism class and knew it would work. And everyone knows iambic pentameter is so boringly rhythmic that you don't even hear the words-- just the up and down, up and down. zzzzzzz

So yeah, culture, my kids got it, get it. But white trash culture?
Well, admittedly I have denied them those cultural roots. And Ryan, God love him, while he may not embrace the full meaning of redneck culture he sure does aspire to be a good old boy. So we may not be Klan waving confederate flag wavers over here but there is that bit of good ole boy and trailer trash in us(--trailer trash for me and good ole boy for Ryan.)

On Saturday we took the kids to experience a bit of true southern culture. Not on the skids mind you but hardcore in the mud and dirty southern culture. That's right, the Monster Truck Nationals at the Dixie Speedway.

Unfortunately my little digital was not so great at recording the evening's events. Partly due to me not understanding all the settings and partly because of the giant stadium lights but mostly because of the protective chain link fence in front of us. We went 100% redneck and tailgated for this event. Though we didn't do it right because instead of bringing a grill and drinking Budweiser in a can we brought in Moe's burritos and Sam Adam's Octoberfest bottles. One gentlemen in the truck next to ours commented on Carmella's burrito to a friend: "I don't know what that is she's eatin' but it sure looks good."
Being friendly, I told him it was a burrito and to which he commented, "A Bur-re-to? Huh! I'm goin' to have try one of those for myself someday."
Alrighty then. That was sort of like that one time when this girl from Alabama didn't know what a Caesar salad was. It's not like we had sashimi or edamame, you know.

Whatever, burritos aside, my pictures didn't come out so great but here they are:


Several times they set stuff on fire. Setting stuff on fire is the pinnacle of excitement apparently. I think you can imagine how the crowd sounded when they pulled out a jet engine to set a car on fire. Chunks of burning metal were flying all around and I was ready in a second to pounce and cover the kids should one of those flaming chunks come flying near us.
See, I should have known that the firemen were there for a reason and didn't just take the big fire engine out to tailgate and so they could get a better view of the Monster Truck rally. Duh.

At any rate the kids, especially Beau, had a great time. Beau was the most attentive and best behaved I have ever seen him. Much better than at puppet shows. Carmella liked it because she had her Barbie. Everything is cool with her if Barbie gets to go.
And of course Ryan liked it.
Me though?
I don't think I'll be going back to the Dixie Speedway anytime soon.