by Meg Thompson
“To him who is in fear, everything rustles.” — Sophocles
I grew up watching my dad aim at groundhogs out the kitchen window. This is to say, my parents are rednecks. There are many variations of redneck, and they are the quiet and meditative kind. You can tell because they rarely speak or leave their farm. My dad has spent most of his life smoking cigarettes in a field, staring at the heifers. My mom has spent most of hers wondering where my dad is. Getting a glimpse of them out in public is like sighting wolverines. Continue reading
Hawaii Pacific Review 