Redneck Roots: How I Learned to Love My Hometown (and Fix Things with Duct Tape)

Hey folks! I was chatting with Mrs. Gnomestead the other day, bragging about my latest redneck fix. Our HVAC filter’s an odd size—nobody carries it—so I grab an oversized one, slap it on top, and call it “rednecked.” It works! She cracked up, and I told her she’s my redneck muse. Reminded her of the time I patched her car’s defrost with cardboard and duct tape after a tornado smashed it. It got the job done, but she hated it and made me buy a new ride the next day. 😊

Growing Up a Rebel

I kid about being a redneck, but it’s in my blood—resilient folks on both sides of the family. I love this community now, though growing up, I couldn’t stand it. My family ping-ponged between St. Louis and Poyner, and I was the quiet outsider. Not shy, just conflict-avoidant from a bumpy childhood. Kept to myself, let my hair grow long—partly ‘cause haircuts weren’t in the budget. An old guy once squinted at me, asked about my hair, and said, “You ain’t from around here, are you, boy?” That lit a rebel spark, and I grew it longer. In our wedding pics, my hair beats my wife’s by a mile—still cracks me up.

The Pull of Home

Back then, I couldn’t wait to get out. I left looking for something different—maybe a new start, maybe just a break. I went places, saw some things, met some people. But home kept tugging at me. It was the smell of the earth after rain, the sound of the wind through the trees, and the sight of the stars on a clear night. That pull brought me back to the place I once wanted to escape. Now, we’ve got land in a nearby county—new faces, but the same familiar feeling. I don’t always fit in, but these are my people. I’m a proud redneck, and this is my crew. Home’s not just where you are; it’s where you feel you belong.

What About You?

What about you? Are you embracing your roots or still figuring out where you belong?