Daryl Dixon is No Redneck Jedi, He's a Radneck Ninja

Some time back I read a WP article about Daryl Dixon, the redneck jedi from 'The Walking Dead'. 
"These Redneck Jedi start off as supporting characters but steal the spotlight because the two poles that govern their actions — tough and tender, liberal and conservative — make for richer dramatic turf than that tread by kinder, gentler, better-groomed leading men."

I prefer to think of Daryl as a radneck ninja. Radneck= A redneck that can appreciate the fine art of being Most Excellent! I am a Daryl Dixon fan. Combine that with my affinity for Raylan Givens on 'Justified' and a picture begins to form of my television taste and the type of character with which I identify. 

"Manly swagger turns me off. Except when it's paired with compassion, righteous courage — and a Stetson" (Lorraine Berry, Salon, Raylan Givens "Justified" My Love, Jan.12.2013)

Radneck Ninja!

As a kindergarten kid I sported boots my first day of school. My favorite song was "Mamas don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys." My favorite show was 'Dukes of Hazard''. I even flew a Confederate Flag, or two, in my room during my early teens. A friend I played ball with told me I should take them down and relayed the effect they had on him. I acquiesced, and while it felt right, I still have serious redneck sensibilities. Always have. 

At a psyche evaluation, after my father died, around the age of 15, I told my mother that a sure sign of my stability, my lack of blind anger and my overall well being, was the footwear I chose to sport. If she saw cowboy boots on my feet, I was probably doing alright.

 The next 15-16 years I eschewed my favorite childhood footwear and alternated between running around the streets, rampaging at bars and deep melancholy. I went through a gang phase, complete with N.W.A. albums and black hoodies. We were teens, we called ourselves a gang, it all seems silly now, but we embraced it at the time. All the requisite implements were deployed. I was not as dedicated as others, yet I still participated in many regrettable actions. I also went through a Rasta phase, complete with dreadlocks and a deep appreciation of unity. Then there was the punk phase, a renewed sense of anger and the bar fights. I tried a lot of different brands. 

There were many sleepless nights for my poor mother. Many phone calls from the police. Many phone calls from jail. Many nights when I battled demons. Many nights when I battled people. Many nights I secretly crucified myself, for all the above. I rediscovered the outdoors in my mid-twenties and began the process of self-improvement, but I still struggled with my past, despite the great joy I found in recreational pursuits. That all ended three years ago.  

I got married to a brilliant woman. She was the first to buy into my baggage, completely and with full knowledge of my past deeds. I wore a sweet pair of cowboy boots on that gorgeous fall day.

So, what is the point of all this? Why all the reminiscing? The redneck jedi references? The illusions to my troubles and my redemption? The talk of all my different iterations? 

I have been thinking about red states and blue states, lately. Thinking about our divided America. Thinking about national discussions, like gun control. Thinking about all the divergent roads I've taken and all the work I've put into self-rehabilitation. I've been thinking about how I view myself. A little tough and a little tender, someone who bleeds both "liberal" and "conservative". Someone who has walked many paths to arrive here, at my life. 

I've been ruminating on cable news and partisan talk radio. How the two sides of the political fence seek to keep people from standing up on the rail and actually seeing what is going on. They just want to feed their audience the prejudice they crave, because that keeps them coming back for more. That keeps them pinned in. That keeps the money flowing.  

This world is too complicated to hold fast to some manufactured ideology. I cannot be pigeon-holed into some convenient demographic and urged to donate to its cause. My mind is a fluid vessel and I will not pay to be fed my prejudices by political pundits and corporate donors. I need no help there and I work too hard to rid my mind of those misconceptions and stereotypes.

I get two doses of news a day. Morning Edition on NPR in the morning and All Things Considered on NPR in the afternoon. That is it. Two hours of news. Say what you want about NPR, it does not induce me to rabid foaming at the mouth. I listen to tempered discourse, devoid of manufactured anxiety. It is great and I do give money to them. Purchasing power is power. Capitalism follows the money. I try to support organizations and endeavors that foster rational discourse and positive outlooks. I try to ignore all the other noise.

Then I go on Facebook and BAM! Amidst all the rad trip reports and cute kid pictures, the UGLY comes roaring at me. Links to trash, "news" websites are blasted into my News Feed. "Read this!", "Can you believe this!", "I hate liberals!", "I hate conservatives!" Suddenly my mind is flooded with attack-based drivel from every maliciously dark pit of the internet. My wall of peace is breached. I realize that the world really does consist of a legion of people who refuse to properly research any of the talking point, sensationalist crap that passes as information. This junk comes from all sides of the political spectrum. It makes me anxious and I dislike it. I believe in the inherent intelligence of people, but reading Facebook makes it hard. It can stress me out.

I often, like many folks, turn to music for inspiration and solace in times of distress. Here is a sampling of what has been fueling my thoughts lately.

Chris Knight has long been a favorite of mine. He lays it bare here and touches on many themes I have been pondering.

For New Years, I wrote down a list of skills to perfect. It was a very Napoleon Dynamite moment, and yet, the list consists of things I truly want to work on. It includes things like: bow hunting, liquor distilling, gardening, kayak fishing, yoga, rock climbing, banjo picking, foraging, strength training, meditating, rifle hunting and marksmanship. I see it as Radneck Ninja training for a post-apocalyptic world. I know it is very alarmist of me, but the irrationality and anger emanating from the "conservatives" and the "liberals" bothers me. I refuse to be caught unprepared as these two sides become increasingly vitriolic. Rationality seems to have been put on the back burner. 

I think we can turn it around, but first we have to turn off the divisive atmosphere that pollutes our airwaves. I hope we do it. I hope people listen to artists like Brother Ali and step up their game. Decide to change. Decide to come together.

But, just in case, I am going to train myself for defense from the irrational elements of our society. If you talk or post about how much you despise your fellow man because of a difference of opinion, then I'm talking about you. Some time ago, my wife and I had a conversation about how the shock pundits and politicians keep the populace in a constant state of 'fight or flight' anxiety. Studies show the ill effects that constant exposure to this anxiety can have on thought and learning, not to mention the health impacts. So I am going to take a few steps back from the online lunacy. 

While I will probably retreat from social media, I am going to keep blogging. I will keep documenting the journey I am taking with my family, but my Facebook use is definitely going to take a back seat to other endeavors. I feel the need to do work. To acquire more knowledge. To spend more time engaging my family.  I want to embody a set of skills that I can pass down to my daughter. I want her to be ready for whatever comes, whether it be the rewards of the digital age or the ravages of some self-fullfilling apocalyptic prophecy. Either way, I currently don't want what this life is handing out. I've got my own designs. The State of America is in question.  Cody ChesnuTT knows what I'm talking about.

I'm not sure any of this makes sense. Maybe that is another side effect of my social media saturation. I have no attention span. Seriously, lately I have been feeling strung out. I work on the computer all day at work. I do a lot of content marketing for my job. I am online a lot! I am a man that craves the forest, craves the mountains and yearns to be outside. Finding the balance is key. So I am going to recede from the online world outside of work. I'm going to continue my digital education, but I'm also going to refocus on my training, and my recreational pursuits. One must plan for all contingencies. So, let me clear some things up.

Yes, I am going to shoot guns, hunt animals, catch fish and train my body, but I will also meditate, do yoga, read more books, practice my banjo, start a garden and learn some new trades.

Yes, I am still going to pursue my interest in technology and the exploding digital landscape. It is the future and will most likely feature prominently in my daughter's future as well. 

Yes, I am a socially "liberal" redneck endeavoring to ride the progressive digital wave while also embracing my culturally "conservative" yearnings. I am a giant mashed up collection of stereotypes. I suspect that is the case for most of us. Similar to the Redneck Jedi archetype, we are all a little more complicated than our outward appearance, and I suspect our views and beliefs are decidedly more diverse than our political allegiance.

What is my ultimate goal? I think of this quote, about Daryl Dixon, from the WP article mentioned at the beginning. 

"He’s the Johnny Cash of prime-time cable — a classically rustic dude whom Americans can get behind regardless of their politics and background."

I want to be a "classically rustic dude." I want to bridge backgrounds and politics. I want to write more, read more, learn more, and love more. I want to share my thoughts, with a little tongue-in-cheek and a wink. I want to see less hate, less anger and less irrationality. My business is peace business.  My business is my family and my friends. I love my life.  

I also love this country, dearly, and that fuels many of my thoughts. I worry about my daughter growing into this world. Will we sink into the vat of corporate manufactured division and commodification? Will we continue to root for political parties the same way we root for NFL teams, regionally and fanatically? Will we rise out of this sorry, sanctimonious stench and address our issues like adults? Am I guilty of sanctimonious sentiment? Will love win out? I have a lot of questions and very few answers, but I'm willing to talk it out in a sensible and courteous way. How about you? Oh, and is our State of Grace gone?

 Chuck Ragan nailed my emotion on this one. 

Here she is, my daughter, poised on the battlefield where 7700 souls lost their lives in our Civil War. My little world shaker, my hope, my warrior. 

pics and blog about this trip will be next

Everything I do is with an eye towards her education. I want her to know love, to feel like it is the truth. I want her to know rational discourse and to feel that it is the norm. I want her to be versed in technology and to feel it's promise.

I want to teach her to adapt and survive. I want her to love the wilderness outside as much as the wild inside. I want her to be capable of taking care of herself, no matter the situation. I want her to be able to navigate the woods as well as any conversation. I want her to walk with the righteous swagger and self-confidence of a trained Radneck Ninja. I'll have to hone those skills before I can impart them. It is time to do work.

Side note: For all of you that want to debate guns online or in public. Clever catch phrases from your "side" are not going to solve any issue, nor is it helpful. Here is some good background on guns in America. One of my favorite radio shows (the other being Hillbilly Solid with Silas House) is Backstory with the American History Guys. Take a listen to history and tempered speech by three esteemed Virginia professors. It will require more attention and time than scrolling your News Feed. Knowledge often does.

https://soundcloud.com/backstory/straight-shot-guns-in-america

p.s. I support the right to bear arms, but I loathe gun advocates.

p.s.s. I support gun control talks, but I loathe anti-gun enthusiasts.

p.s.s.s. I'm not scared of my government, I'm scared of the misguided gun toting misanthropes that are.

p.s.s.s.s. I have no delusions of personal bravado amidst national tragedy, I just want to occasionally  drag my food home instead of buying it from the store.

Journey in a Jackson at Holliday Lake

This past Sunday, January 13th, the temperature rang in at 73 degrees. My wife had to work a 12 hour shift at the hospital, which left me and my daughter on our own. I always try to make daddy daycare an adventure. Why? Why not? The alternative is sitting around the house, both of us going crazy. So, I decided we would head to Holliday Lake State Park and take a Jackson Journey 14 Kayak from our great selection of  used boats.

The lake sits on the eastern edge of the Appomattox- Buckingham State Forest. It is a nice little treasure here in Central Virginia. Here is a shot I took, with my phone, of the lake this past summer.

The water level was way down and getting the boat in the water was a little messy. The lake is drawn down every winter for maintenance on the beach area and fish habitats. Navigating the knee deep mud bank with a 14 foot kayak on one shoulder and a 15 month old in the other arm is challenging. Like all good fathers, I soldiered on and got us in the water.

The water temp was pretty chilly, so I stuck close to shore as a precaution. It was also my daughter's first time in any form of watercraft since this past summer and I wasn't sure how she would handle it. She doesn't like to sit still. We hit the water and immediately saw some geese. We made a beeline for them in the Jackson Journey. As we approached the 20-25 geese, they erupted, wings flapping and feet kicking, into the air. Water sprayed everywhere and my daughter stood up, pointing and "quacking" at the water fowl as they took flight and circled the lake. It was awesome. It was the perfect moment and precisely why you endure the ordeal of these missions with young kids. Best of all, when I got home, I discovered that the GoPro had captured the exact moment, preserving it for my daughter and I to look back upon when she is old enough to appreciate it.

We paddled around for about thirty minutes and my daughter repeatedly tried to drag her hand through the water. I was shocked at her insistence that she be able to play in the lake as it was quite freezing. I used the Aqua-Bound Manta Ray Hybrid paddle as a barrier to keep her in the cockpit, but she took every opportunity I gave her to thrust her little hand into the frigid water.

As we paddled back into shore, I realized that I had no idea how to extract us both from the boat while minimizing mud damage. While it was a bit tricky,  I got us out relatively unscathed and began dragging the boat up the steep embankment of boggy mud.

As I walked up the hill from the lake, dragging the boat and carrying my child, I laughed at the scene. A father, solo, on a mission with his daughter. Dads carry stuff.  Like a mule in the mountains, we must ferry loads to and from various destinations. It is our job to expertly and tirelessly carry children and toys through this world. It is what we do. Our wives huffed along for nine months to bring this joy into our lives, now it is our turn. There are days my daughter seems to constantly be at my feet, saying "uuuppp" over and over until I lift her into my arms. There are times I throw and catch her into the air, repeatedly, as she giggles hysterically. There are the times my biceps scream as I race into the grocery store, baby on my hip and sling a large sack of dog food over my shoulder. No cart needed. This is training. This is dad strength. Embrace it. How many 25 lb. curls can you do in ten minutes, 30? How many one armed tasks can you accomplish while holding a wiggly baby? Test yourself.*

We had a great day together. It culminated with both of us running barefoot through the grass at Holliday Lake State Park. Our shoes were muddy, the boat was wet and we were happy. 70+ degrees in January is a bit weird, but I'll take advantage of it when it happens. Oh, and be on the lookout for my new book, Dad-fit: Using your Child to Cross Train.*