Foothills Rodeo ..

His old roping partner called him up about three weeks ago ..

Foothills Rodeo.

He was going to be back in town and thought it would be fun to enter.

The Cowboy didn’t want to do it.  Doesn’t like the thought of ‘doing something half-assed,’ he always tells me.  Or putting money up to rope when he hasn’t been working at it.

The Cowboy hasn’t been doing much rodeoing for a couple years now.. since the divorce and especially this past year.  Many weekends are spent on the road between South Dakota and Wisconsin.  To which I am grateful for, but I know they have put a serious dent in what used to be his lifestyle.

He told me about the call.

“C’mon,” I said.  “It’ll be fun .. plus, I’ve seen you teach others how to do it, I’d love to go watch you actually rope.  And I’ll be at the ranch that weekend.”

Reluctantly, I believe, he agreed to go.

…………………

We all piled into one of the Cowboy’s best buddies trucks just before noon Sunday, me, the Cowboy, Scuba Steve and his pregnant wife, and Little Brother Trucker ( .. his partner.  They’re going to kill me for the names.) yesterday, horses in tow and headed for the Foothills Rodeo.

“You’re on the hot and dusty now,” said the Cowboy.  Laughing.

It wasn’t long .. stories started flying about their history together.  Their travels.  Their friendships.  And all the things they would do to one another while on the road.  The Cowboy says these are among the best friends he has in the whole world.  He’s spent a lot of time with them over the years and he laughs as he tells me, you really get to know someone after spending 48 hours together in the same vehicle, sleeping in same bed, living in 5×5 quarters.  You have to learn a lot of coping skills on how to get along.

For them, and I would assume many others in their shoes, it’s meant a lot of pranks and joking around.

And it literally didn’t take long for the sh*t to start flying yesterday.  We no more than parked on rodeo grounds.  They get the horses out and the Cowboy goes back into the horse part of the trailer to take .. um, use the facilities.  Just number one for the record.  (If the horses can do it, why can’t they?  Had never thought of that.)  The trucker locks him in.  Apparently this is a regular thing they do, or did in the past .. to each other.

The Cowboy says, “Remember what I did to your brother the last time he did that to me?”

“N …” says the Trucker.

But before he could even finish that one small word, a wad of horse sh*t schmucked his shoulder and face.  We all bust out laughing and immediately starting wondering, worrying a bit actually what the Trucker would do now, to get him back.

Thankfully he had brought another shirt.

The rodeo came and went.  None of them did as well as they had hoped.  But where they may have taken it hard in the past, life has them all in some very different places now.  And it seemed …

.. they were just happy to be back together.

Win or lose.

Even locked in with the horses again.

You would have thought the bathroom at the restaurant where we stopped for dinner on the way home would have been as easy to use as the back of the trailer .. but Scuba Steve’s pregnant wife, who was about fed up with the teasing, decided it was too easy two of them were standing in there bonding with the horses, again.  She locked em in.  Said to the rest of us, get in the truck.  And away we drove ….

Looking forward to the next rodeo.

Placing flowers ..

While many are out on the boat this weekend, having picnics, gathering with friends,  enjoying the time off and not thinking much if at all about the reason for the extra day off …

Many others will be gathering in cemeteries throughout the nation .. placing flags .. thinking about the reasons for the holiday weekend and remembering loved ones who gave the ultimate gift of sacrifice.

…………..

I remember well, marching across the street from Poynette High School when I was young with a group from the band.  Standing there in the heat while names of the service men and women from our area who had been killed in action or who had passed, were read.  Listening to a speaker reflect on the reason we were all there and for the day.  Wincing while the gun salute was fired.

http://www.poynettepressonline.com/main.asp?SectionID=42&SubSectionID=151&ArticleID=5681

Everyone would stand around and talk for a few minutes afterwards, catch up .. and see who was heading over to the chicken barbecue at the VFW.

“We’ll see you in a few minutes ..” mom and dad would always tell friends.

But every year before we’d go, we would always stop by the headstones of family members also gone .. veteran or otherwise, we would tell stories or talk a little about who they were and make sure all the relatives had fresh flowers on their graves.

Geraniums were always part of the mix.  I never understood why.  But red geraniums were always planted up the cemetery.

I was never a big fan of them, that is until after mom passed .. but I love them now.  Because, I would assume, they remind me of her.

It’s hard to see, but there’s one in there.  My daughter and I took flowers up to my mom’s grave last weekend, as I was headed to the Cowboy’s for the Memorial Holiday weekend.  And she this year has the weekend with her dad.

Mom always loved fresh flowers and being in the garden during the spring, summer and fall.  Sometimes I wonder if it isn’t silly to spend time around the gravesite and feel close to her in some small way there.

But she is with me all the time.

I guess fresh flowers next to her grave, or any others who are family or friends .. sometimes I know of people who place flowers or a flag at the headstone of a stranger ..  Memorial Day weekend or otherwise, I just think it’s one small way to show they haven’t been forgotten..