Yesterday, my teenage daughter, son, and I were treated to our first NASCAR auto race, at Infineon Raceway. NASCAR is the acronym for National Association for Stock Car Auto Racing and is very popular with working-class Whites, especially in the southern states. So I guess this makes us black rednecks, or at least the r-word is what comes to people’s mouths when I say how I spent my Sunday.
Our host, surrogate Uncle Marc, is a good friend and lawyer who happens to be a Hummer-driving Asian-American, and an auto-racing, hunting, photography buff, and a closet do-gooder(my term). A bundle of uniqueness. His carbon footprint is definite, but his H2 knows an off-road butt-whupping or two; he only kills what he will eat; he digitizes the rest. All of this I can respect.
One friend commented wryly that I was really ‘acting white’. I took this to mean that my weekend crowd was suspect, but I reserve to differ. My son loves cars and racing, so until otherwise proven, these ARE his people. I fell out of my chair when my daughter, unprovoked, asked Uncle Marc if he could teach her how to ‘shoot’. This stuff is contagious! I guess I'm just the guy who teaches her Algebra, and lays awake at night.
My children may ultimately reject these new interests, but it will be of their own choosing, not mine. NASCAR may or may not make my son feel welcomed, but regardless, I will be there, with the aid of friends like Uncle Marc, to present him with a another door to explore. Regarding guns, my daughter will be eighteen next year, old enough fire a gun in war, like it or not she needs to know their safety, if but for avoidance. A helluva' weekend.
Elvis, a southern icon often accused of acting black, has left the building.
James C. Collier
P.S. Great Geico Nascar Commercial!
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