Once the blushing (did I mention I'm from the South) subsided and the laughter began, I could barely hit the ball over the net. That's when "Big Mo" took up residence on the other side of the court.
Lately I've been thinking about Big Mo. I was starting to wonder where he'd gone. I seemed to have lost contact with him after all of these years. I started to wonder if I still had what it takes to create interesting stuff. I wasn't accessing the creative juice that I needed to write, to present, to even have a decent conversation. I started to feel old, out of touch, a relic of a time when there were still 8 big CPA firms. I felt alone and irrelevant. I was scared and unable to move.
And then Big Mo came a callin'. Actually I think he sent one of his less important relatives, Sasha Mo, to my doorstep. That day, I got a FaceBook message from a casting director who is making a TV show about transplanted rednecks and he thought I might be a fit. (And you think I'm kidding.) He found me via my www.redneckincalifornia.com website. The real story is that he was "doing a new show that focuses on people who originate in "redneck" communities and have relocated themselves to more metropolitan areas. "
I had hit pay dirt, people. I could just see the piles of cash and endorsement opportunities that were going to start rolling in. I could learn to use chewin tobacco if necessary. I would become "Geni", the redneck version of "Nini", that famous real housewife from Atlanta.
Of course, my darn family let me down. It seems they just aren't redneck enough to make an interesting family reunion story and so I didn't make the cut for the show. But here's where Sasha and Big Mo entered my life.
Someone had read my blog! Can you believe it? They read my blog, y'all. This casting dude actually reached out to me on Facebook because of the story I told on my (redneck) website.
I might be a redneck, but at least I was being heard. And then things started happening. It's been a great week. Thank you Big Mo. Welcome home.
Don't ever give up y'all.
And if you happen to have a redneck family you want to rent me for just one short season of TV, give me a call. I'll trade you my bunch of smart, fully toothed relatives, who don't own a single pair of overalls.