James McCaffery

5/30/2017

Help Received: Back Talk: Where do Hillbillies Come From? Sandra L. Ballard

James McCaffery

I was bullied as a kid and teenager. For a while it hurt and when I would retaliate,  it always seemed I was the one to get into trouble. I tried many tactics to avoid these bullies or to disarm them, but to little or no success. This torment went on for years, until I gained some wisdom from perhaps my greatest mentor; now gone. “Son, ain’t shit in life you gotta take from no pecker mouth you don’t wanna take. Laugh it off. Them’s just words. Who gives a shit? As long as you know what you know and who you are, then fuck the whole lot of em. At the end of the day  if you can’t laugh at yourself at least once, you’re living life with a boot up your ass; and son that ain’t no way to live.” Master Gunnery Sergeant “Grunt” DeGrowski was a colorful man with his words, but that day when he was looking into an 8th grade Cadet Private McCaffery’s crying eyes, he meant every damn word.

4 years later when I looked into those same eyes as he lay in a bed in the cancer ward of the hospital, looking up at me, Cadet Major James McCaffery in full dress uniform, those words came back to me like the distant echos of a dying ring from a bell. I was the Battalion Adjutant and Supply Officer; and no one dared bully me or anyone for that matter.  I had  been brought over from graduation practice to see him after he had been brought in the night before. He was dying. His colon had been disintegrating since before that conversation he had with me those many years before. Doctors gave him a week tops. He looked like death warmed over and seemed as though in the worse of places. Needless to say there was very little joy, or humor to be had. It seems I was wrong once again.  When I walked in he began to smile. In minutes we were laughing. He began to tell me stories that spanned his 30 year career in the Marine Corps. The women he’d been with, the men he fought with, the time he cold cocked an Army Major in a bar fight, and war stories that would curdle fresh milk. I was with him for 3 hours but it could have been three days. Near the end we got down to brass tacks. “Son, I’ll be there to see you cross that stage, but realize that’s gonna be it. I’ve got my orders, and this CO’s a real fucking ball buster. I can’t distract ’em  much longer. You’re gonna have to go it alone son; and for that I’m sorry. You’ll need a helluva lot more guidance, cause you might have the mind of an academic, but the street smarts of a mental handicap. Remember what I taught you, and above all, Laugh Goddammit!” Well, he made it to graduation. Full Dress and all. Hell I could have sworn I saw a tear roll off that old leathery face of his. Three days after that he died, but his words and memories are survived by those cadets he was able to mentor and save from themselves and the harshness of life. I cherish and hold those memories close to me, replaying them in my mind when I need them, or just a good ol’ laugh.

I guess the point of all of this was to illustrate the point, that laughter is perhaps the greatest tool we have to combat just about anything in this life. From bullies, to bad grades, seemingly hopeless situations, to even being on deaths door. Ballard’s point was, that these country folk and middle class workers were not perpetuating a stereotype. They were making it their mascot. Their reason to laugh every day. They were making it their strength, their morale, and their weapon to combat the upper class, and to reveal the ignorance of the white collar folk that could never understand them, and secretly were jealous of them. I believe Ballard says it best herself: “They are fools who hold up mirrors to us when they speak the truth. The Hillbilly fool may get his way without trying because his actions are based on common sense and honesty, exposing the base ignorance and greed of someone with more power who considers himself superior.” (Back Talk: Where do Hillbillies Come From? Page 147 Sandra L. Ballard)

“Those who think these consumers merely endorse the stereotype by purchasing hillbilly souvenirs may be missing the point: the real fool is the deluded one who believes the image-not the one who gets the joke and carries it home.” (Back Talk: Where do Hillbillies Come From? Page 146 Sandra L. Ballard)