Roaring Rednecks

This June marks the 10^th annual Redneck Olympics in my neighborhood. Satank is in unincorporated Garfield County, about a twenty-minute walk from downtown Carbondale, i.e., 4th and Main. Satank, née the Townsite of Cooperton, predates Carbondale and was named for Isaac Cooper who ventured down the valley from Aspen in the late 1800s. Still lawless as far as HOA constraints, Satank has a long and distinguished history of crazy characters who worked hard for a living.

As for the Redneck Olympics, it began innocently enough in Mark Taylor’s yard with two lawn chairs set about fifteen feet apart, each with an empty 5-gallon bucket placed on the ground in front. Satankers sat in each chair with a pile of small rocks at their feet, which they proceeded to flick into the opposite bucket between sips of beer. Hence the first ever event of the inaugural Redneck Olympics: ‘flickin rocks.’ Obviously, the winner was the neighbor with the most rocks in said bucket, but as with most events in Satank, crowd participation plays a big part by assigning points for attitude and/or costume.

Over the years the best-dressed have shown up in quintessential redneck attire: bathrobe and slippers, spike heels and leopard print, sleeveless denim on denim, (giving away free tickets to the gun show!) and long hair rolled up in empty beer cans for curlers. Our neighborhood goes all out with redneck themed activities like Spam carving contests and toilet plunger relay races. Snacks are simple and filling: Fish ‘n Chips = a big bowl of goldfish crackers mixed with potato chips.

Every year I look forward to this event as I, myself, come from a long line of proletarian posers. My great aunt Zinny was, in the words of Frank Smotherman, “the first woman to put a modular in Starwood.” In the late 1960s Uncle Dick and Aunt Zinny brought their house into that neighborhood in pieces, forming a neomodern structure that was dubbed ‘the trainwreck.’ Their furniture store, Bethune & Moore, was housed in the old Aspen train station (now located across from FedEx in the AABC.)

My own parents were married at Dick and Zin’s house in 1969, and it is great fun to watch the sporadic video running over the crowd in their cat’s-eye glasses, skimmer dresses, and Big & Tall sized suits; ranchers wearing their “good” felt cowboy hats— saved for special occasions. Pure gold: this black and white footage of rednecks looking sharp, milling around with city slickers in the hills above Aspen, like a vintage Taylor Sheridan show.

Boy, that guy sure can write a western drama! He’s really got a hold of ranch-life usurped by wealth, and what I like most is the favorable light he shines on Ag people. They’re hardworking, easy-going guys and gals who will always stop to lend a hand with a flat tire and probably end up inviting you to supper. The kind of people who welcome a stranger to town.

I think that’s exactly what happened to Aspen and the Roaring Fork Valley. A Billie (local term of endearment for billionaires) got a flat tire on Highway 82 and that was that. The valley morphed from a place where everyone could play in privacy, into a place to BE SEEN. Back in the day, actual stars would come to town to get away from the spotlight and enjoy a real vacation. Even Starwood was unpretentious, as illustrated by my cousin Mac Moore’s Just Married ride in an Aspen Trash truck, thanks to his best man, Billy Goodhard. Today it feels more exclusive, as though standing alone at the top of the mountain is more rewarding than climbing with others. How long Aspen will continue to believe her own legend, I cannot say.

What I do know, is that there won’t be any paparazzi at this year’s Redneck Olympics. In Satank, these are still the good old days with neighbors who care more about how you are than how you look. And how fast you can shotgun a beer, set the empty on the firepit and run back to hit it with a slingshot. That is, unless you need to save the can for curling your hair up real pretty.