0 Country Veins

Just a good ol’ boy, just a good ol’ gal,
living on a farm, herding cows.

Hay in their pockets, and straw in their mouths;
is this what the country life is all about?

Mud on their boots, and mud on their tires;
laughing around a big bonfire.

Lifted trucks and Wrangler jeans;
a hot summer’s day, drinking iced tea.

I hear it in the songs that play on the radio,
to be country; you have to drink beer and go to rodeos.

But to me, it’s not about what you do, but who you are,
and the country in me goes way back, quite far.

It started in Portugal, a man who lived a peasant’s life;
he left the old country and found a beautiful wife.

They started a family in California and lived off the land;
that’s the life I desire, though some don’t understand.

They grew their food and worked long days;
broke their backs, sweating in the sun’s hot blaze.

Fourteen kids total; all so different and strong;
they never went hungry, and most of the time they got along.

They were brought up in the 1910’s through the 30’s;
they worked hard and got their hands dirty.


They lived the country life, those tight-knit siblings and parents;
they taught me it’s the values that count, not the appearance.

So what’s the country life? It’s not all trucks and beer;
but it’s the integrity that’s passed down throughout the years.

It’s not just practicing an old family tradition,
like saying Grace before a meal,
but knowing why we do it, because we know God is real.

It’s putting family before friends, and knowing you’ll never be alone,
and that when times get tough, you can always go home.

It’s not about the music and fashion or the truck you drive,
but instead, it’s all about living a very good life.

It’s being thankful for what you have,
because others might not have the same.
It’s respecting your family and respecting your name.

The country life is being proud of where you’re from and where you’re going,
and not letting anything or anyone get in the way of your growing.

It’s faith and love that started this way of life;
laughing at the little things and whispering your prayers every night.

The clothes I wear may change by day to day,
but when I put on a pair of boots or hum a certain song,
I know you’ll see me in a different way.

“That’s a country girl over there, just listen to that song she’s singing”
Those boots and that song, are only symbols of my upbringing.

The fashion doesn't make me who I am but rather the people that I’m made of;
the ones who have taught me about life and taught me about love.

The green acres, the music, and all the animals are the cherry on top,
and so is going into that one nice, little gun-shop.

I’m country; it’s how I've been raised.
Though I was born in the city, I’ll live in the country all my days.

And like the ones before me,
I’ll start a family and I’ll live off the land,
because I have country in my veins,
and because it’s who I am.

--Stephanie D., 18