This past weekend Celeste had a jewelry booth at the George West Storyfest. (http://www.georgeweststoryfest.org/) I headed over with Mom and we decided to check it out. It was a nice day outside and it was pretty cool to sit around and do some people watching, which is one of my favorite things. I even considered getting up and telling a story or two myself, since I enjoy telling a good story and I just happen to have a few. The open mic part of the day was later in the evening and by the time it rolled around, all we wanted to do was eat and go home, so alas I did not get to regale the audience with a semi-true story from my memory bank. Maybe next year.
As I was sitting behind the booth watching people I looked down the sidewalk behind me and noticed a man coming my way. He was carrying a guitar and wearing a cowboy hat. These two things alone let me know that when he made it to where I was sitting, we would visit for a while...and we did. He was a Brick Mason by trade, but a songwriter and musician at heart. He just hadn't found a way to make the songwriting pay. We laughed about that. He told me that last year he had written over 200 songs and sent them to Nashville. "No one likes my songs though." He liked to write mostly cowboy type songs and throw some gospel in there as well. We both agreed that was not "Mainstream Country". No one nowadays wants to go to Wal-Mart and buy that. He played a few for us and they were pretty darn good. The last one he played was a song he wrote about a train on the tracks, and how he thought it would be cool if a train was going down the tracks with Jesus as the conductor. Then when the train whistle blew every time, it wouldn't whistle, but spread God's glory. Sounds like a train we could all ride on. He told me that he enjoyed writing songs so much because in a song you could be anything or anyone you wanted to be. After a few songs, he went on his way and I hope he had a good day. He was a pretty cool fellow.
I got to thinking about him though. Can you imagine doing something for fun, but doing it over 200 times and not being successful? I know lots of people who are "good" at something, but have not had "success" as most people would define it. That leads me to my point.
We all have our own definition of what being "successful" is. People measure it in different ways. Money, clothes, cars, having the latest coolest thing, a fancy title or job, etc....we all have seen it. But does that make us a good man or woman? At the end of the day, when we take all those things away, have we been a "good" person that day? Did we act like we should, or treat people like we should? That's what matters. Although we might try to be a good person and fail 200 times, do we keep trying? We should. These things we should all do....
I hope that little fella with the bad hips, guitar, and cowboy hat writes the best song anyone's ever heard. I hope he writes it on his next try, George Strait records it and it goes all the way to #1! He made me keep things in perspective by visiting for a while....I'd call him a "good" man.
Walker
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Friday, October 16, 2009
Hard on the Housekeeper
It was quiet and still just like all mornings before daylight. The first cool weather of fall had crept in the evening before, and Cap always liked that first "light jacket morning". He woke up every morning before daylight, no alarm needed. He kept one set though, just for the rare occurrence that he might oversleep. He never seemed to need it though.
He opened his eyes and laid still for a minute just listening. This was his custom. He stirred just a bit and noticed something he had never before. Grit. Surely not. He and Martha had been married for 37 years and she had always kept the house clean, almost to a fault. He had been scolded many times for coming in with clothes or boots that left their marks on whatever they touched. He was trained to do better after those first few years he thought. Martha might view him as a work still in progress. But this was different.
He rolled over and Martha was still asleep. When he rolled he felt it even more. Grit. He tried not to overreact. Everyone slips a little now and then. He should cut her some slack. The more he thought about it in those few moments, the madder he got. He couldn't let it go.
He got out of bed and pulled the sheets back on his side. The room was still dark, and with loud and over-exaggerated strokes he brushed whatever grit was in the bed out. He was making a commotion and trying to make a point. Martha woke up.
"What are you doing?" she asked eyes still not completely focused.
"There's something in this bed woman." he answered. "You must not've washed these bed clothes this week. Here I am sleepin' and tryin' to rest so I can go make you a livin' and you got me sleepin' in a dirty bed."
By this time Martha was wide awake. She was not about to sit still and let her house cleaning be criticized this early in the morning. "It's not my fault" she said almost too calmly. This should have been a red flag for Cap. He plowed on anyway.
"Heck it ain't. I woke up this morning and felt like I was sleepin' on the floor of the tack room. There's some kind of grit in here with me." He was still brushing the bed with his hand.
"Turn on the lamp and you'll see the problem" said Martha.
Cap turned on the bedside lamp and noticed that this grit was somewhat familiar. As he studied it trying to make a determination as to its genesis, Martha cut the slack out of the problem for him. She was good at that.
"YOU woke up in your sleep last night and went to the kitchen. I felt you get up. I also felt you return with a handful of those cookies I made for Ely's birthday two days ago. Then YOU fell back asleep before you ate them all and crushed the rest of them while you tossed and turned like you always do. So the problem is not with my clean house, it's with the night-time-cookie-eater who lives here and then doesn't eat all the cookies during his sleep walking, rather chooses to roll on them all night."
Cap stood there next to the bed and looked at her. She was mad. He didn't seem to be mad anymore. He pulled the covers back over the bed and headed to the bathroom to run some bath water. Martha laid back down. As the water ran in the bathroom, Cap returned to the bedroom and leaned down over her as she was trying to go back to sleep.
"I'm sorry honey, but you know I like those cookies." He paused, then added," I'm just sayin' I like'em to be a little chewy and if they hadn't been so dry maybe they wouldn't have got crushed up so bad."
She groaned. He ran.
have a good weekend,
Walker
He opened his eyes and laid still for a minute just listening. This was his custom. He stirred just a bit and noticed something he had never before. Grit. Surely not. He and Martha had been married for 37 years and she had always kept the house clean, almost to a fault. He had been scolded many times for coming in with clothes or boots that left their marks on whatever they touched. He was trained to do better after those first few years he thought. Martha might view him as a work still in progress. But this was different.
He rolled over and Martha was still asleep. When he rolled he felt it even more. Grit. He tried not to overreact. Everyone slips a little now and then. He should cut her some slack. The more he thought about it in those few moments, the madder he got. He couldn't let it go.
He got out of bed and pulled the sheets back on his side. The room was still dark, and with loud and over-exaggerated strokes he brushed whatever grit was in the bed out. He was making a commotion and trying to make a point. Martha woke up.
"What are you doing?" she asked eyes still not completely focused.
"There's something in this bed woman." he answered. "You must not've washed these bed clothes this week. Here I am sleepin' and tryin' to rest so I can go make you a livin' and you got me sleepin' in a dirty bed."
By this time Martha was wide awake. She was not about to sit still and let her house cleaning be criticized this early in the morning. "It's not my fault" she said almost too calmly. This should have been a red flag for Cap. He plowed on anyway.
"Heck it ain't. I woke up this morning and felt like I was sleepin' on the floor of the tack room. There's some kind of grit in here with me." He was still brushing the bed with his hand.
"Turn on the lamp and you'll see the problem" said Martha.
Cap turned on the bedside lamp and noticed that this grit was somewhat familiar. As he studied it trying to make a determination as to its genesis, Martha cut the slack out of the problem for him. She was good at that.
"YOU woke up in your sleep last night and went to the kitchen. I felt you get up. I also felt you return with a handful of those cookies I made for Ely's birthday two days ago. Then YOU fell back asleep before you ate them all and crushed the rest of them while you tossed and turned like you always do. So the problem is not with my clean house, it's with the night-time-cookie-eater who lives here and then doesn't eat all the cookies during his sleep walking, rather chooses to roll on them all night."
Cap stood there next to the bed and looked at her. She was mad. He didn't seem to be mad anymore. He pulled the covers back over the bed and headed to the bathroom to run some bath water. Martha laid back down. As the water ran in the bathroom, Cap returned to the bedroom and leaned down over her as she was trying to go back to sleep.
"I'm sorry honey, but you know I like those cookies." He paused, then added," I'm just sayin' I like'em to be a little chewy and if they hadn't been so dry maybe they wouldn't have got crushed up so bad."
She groaned. He ran.
have a good weekend,
Walker
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Conversation with a Legend
Last weekend I went to a roping in Salado. I had always seen him around, but never had the chance to talk to him before. I knew he could rope and always had the good partners. He never did anything fast or fancy, but when they called out the teams for the Short Round, he was in there somewhere with a chance to win something.
When Walter Arnold rode up beside me at the roping on Saturday, I took the opportunity. I congratulated him on his introduction this year to the ProRodeo Hall of Fame and told him how cool I thought that was. In case you don't know who I'm talking about, here is the video they show when they induct you to the Hall.
Walter Arnold - HOF 2009 - Rodeo UP Video - Official Video Site of the PRCA
Shared via AddThis
He thanked me and seemed nice, so I stayed after him. I mentioned how after I watched the video, that things are sure different. The guys back then were cowboys and not just "Team Ropers"....myself included. He told me how when he was rodeoing most of the guys he competed with were cowboys for a living. They worked on ranches and then rodeoed when they could, so it was more of a cowboy sport. Nowadays there's folks who work in town during the week and then rope on the weekends. He told me that he won fourth in the Average at the NFR one year and won $400. I was amazed. Heck it takes that much to enter a roping a couple times now. He agreed. In those days he told me you could buy the nicest trailer out there for $600 dollars, and a new truck cost $2,000. We've all heard those stories from someone or another and I'm sure I'll tell my share of them in the future because things are sure to change more.
$400 though? That sure didn't seem like much. Mr. Arnold told me that back then you could buy a chicken fried steak for $1.25. That average check would buy you 320 chicken fried steaks so I guess it's all relative. We sat there for a minute and I tried to think of something interesting to say. I couldn't. I guess I had him thinking though. He looked at me and smiled. "Course there's lots more money in it now." I had seen him get his share of it over the last few years that's for sure!(I also noticed later that he was driving a double cab dually truck that he had won. You bet there's more money in it!)
After our short talk, we parted ways. I enjoyed the visit and it's nice to see these type of guys still out there doing what they love....and doing it so well.
Thanks Mr. Arnold for taking the time to talk to a "team roper".....it was nice.
Walker
When Walter Arnold rode up beside me at the roping on Saturday, I took the opportunity. I congratulated him on his introduction this year to the ProRodeo Hall of Fame and told him how cool I thought that was. In case you don't know who I'm talking about, here is the video they show when they induct you to the Hall.
Walter Arnold - HOF 2009 - Rodeo UP Video - Official Video Site of the PRCA
Shared via AddThis
He thanked me and seemed nice, so I stayed after him. I mentioned how after I watched the video, that things are sure different. The guys back then were cowboys and not just "Team Ropers"....myself included. He told me how when he was rodeoing most of the guys he competed with were cowboys for a living. They worked on ranches and then rodeoed when they could, so it was more of a cowboy sport. Nowadays there's folks who work in town during the week and then rope on the weekends. He told me that he won fourth in the Average at the NFR one year and won $400. I was amazed. Heck it takes that much to enter a roping a couple times now. He agreed. In those days he told me you could buy the nicest trailer out there for $600 dollars, and a new truck cost $2,000. We've all heard those stories from someone or another and I'm sure I'll tell my share of them in the future because things are sure to change more.
$400 though? That sure didn't seem like much. Mr. Arnold told me that back then you could buy a chicken fried steak for $1.25. That average check would buy you 320 chicken fried steaks so I guess it's all relative. We sat there for a minute and I tried to think of something interesting to say. I couldn't. I guess I had him thinking though. He looked at me and smiled. "Course there's lots more money in it now." I had seen him get his share of it over the last few years that's for sure!(I also noticed later that he was driving a double cab dually truck that he had won. You bet there's more money in it!)
After our short talk, we parted ways. I enjoyed the visit and it's nice to see these type of guys still out there doing what they love....and doing it so well.
Thanks Mr. Arnold for taking the time to talk to a "team roper".....it was nice.
Walker
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Hookin' Buford
For the non-ropers out there a Buford is a roping dummy that is attached to a pivot in the center and with the help of electricity it travels in a circle around the pivot. It has speeds that you can set from slow to pretty fast and they are excellent tools. They look like this.
Cap sat on the porch of the old barn in the corral and watched with amusement. Ely had been showing him how well he had his green broke colt handling. Ely loped him one way, stopped and then turned him around and loped the other. This was only his 3rd week of riding and he was showing some good promise. Ely was sure proud.
"I got him to where you can swing a rope on him yesterday!" Ely announced to Cap from the lot. As he said it he untied his rope from the saddle horn and slowly built a loop. He swung it slowly and the colt, unsure at first, relaxed and accepted it.
"I'll be tracking around on him in no time!" Said Ely.
"Heck it ain't too soon to start right now!" Cap hollered back, smiling as he baited the trap for poor ole Ely. He got up off of the porch and walked out into the corral to get a closer look.
Ely eased his colt over to the Buford which just happened to be located in the same corral he was riding in. The colt, more unsure about the situation by the minute, snorted and shyed away. Ely rode him back up to it and reassured the youngster by petting him on the neck. Ely thought to himself, 'There ain't nothin' this colt cain't handle.'
"Let me turn it on for you. Might help some." offered Cap. He eased over to the machine and flipped the switch. It was set on a pretty slow pace. Ely started off pretty good and the colt followed the Buford around fairly well after some work. He was doing so good Cap decided to increase the speed a little.
Things were still ok. Maybe more speed....Not as good as before but the colt was still hangin' in there. Every time Cap sped the machine up, Ely had to do more riding to keep his colt pointed in the right direction. Finally Ely couldn't do anymore to keep his mount going in a circle and he asked Cap to stop.
"That's about fast enough!" Ely hollered at Cap. They made a few more circles and the colt settled down again finding a pretty nice pace behind the Buford. Then Ely made a fatal mistake. He let the team roper come out in him....and decided to swing his rope. The colt had forgotten about the rope by now with all the new jobs he had. HE DID NOT LIKE IT.
About the second swing, Ely let the rope brush the tips of his horses' ears. Mistake. The very gentle, well minded colt that Ely was so proud of swallowed his head and started bucking. From jump number 2 Ely was out of shape. Jumps 4 and 4.5 he blew both stirrups, was whipped down hitting his head on the colt's head and hit the ground. Hard.
It all happened so fast that Cap couldn't react. He was standing by the center of the Buford pivot and couldn't do a thing while Ely tried to make a ride on a colt that started out pretty gentle, but ended up having the talent of Kesler Rodeo Company's Painted Smile. He rushed over to Ely.
Ely was face down and making noises, which meant he was alive. Cap got to him and asked him if he was alright. He was, or he reported to be anyway. Cap knelt down beside him and put his hand on his back. Ely still groaned. Then he cussed some. He would be alright. About that time Cap heard a noise that sounded familiar. From the kneeling position, he looked over his shoulder only to see the Buford coming around again and it was coming in at pretty hot speed. At the pace Cap had set for the green broke colt, no less.
It nearly hooked Cap right in the rear as he made his retreat. Cap found out he can't run as fast as he used to. That was only half the problem. Ely was in no shape to move. Yep,.. the Buford ran right over the top of the immobile Ely. Talk about insult to injury...bucked off and hooked(more like run over)by a plastic cow. Cap did manage to get it turned off before it got him again.
Ely's ribs are taped down and healing nicely. Cap is banned from operating the Buford.
Don't push your young horses to much boys....they push back,
Walker
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
I Have Not Forgotten
I'm sorry. I haven't posted anything in a while, but in the interest of quality control, I just haven't had anything good to post. Occasionally I will have an idea, but just can't seem to get it strung out long enough to get it to story form. I will try to do better. I need to find some inspiration....usually it finds me. I would like to take a little vacation, but that's not gonna happen, so in the meantime I'll just keep working and looking for something to write about.
I heard the great college football coach Lou Holtz on a radio show I listen to this morning. He was discussing several different opinions he had and I found them to be very interesting. His four keys to life are this:
1. Have something to do.
2. Have someone to love.
3. Have something to hope for.
4. Have someone to believe in.
The more I thought about these things, the more I realized...I have them all. How lucky I am. Perhaps how lucky we all are. Some of these things are not hard to find in everyday life. We all have lots to do. It seems the list gets longer everyday. Most of us love someone and we are lucky if that person loves us right back. We also all hope for one thing or another because that is part of our human nature.
The last one though, is a tougher one. I can say from experience that it's not all that easy to have faith in others. We have all at one time or another uttered the words, "If you want something done right, you just have to do it yourself." Well that may be true when ordering fast food, or getting your dry cleaning done right. But in order to have genuine, real hope in someone....it's difficult.
Find someone to believe in and more importantly....tell them you do. It could make the difference to them. Who knows, it might even affect you too. None of us would be where we are now if at least one person didn't believe in us somehow or another.
I'll try to do better about my writing in the future.
Believing in others,
Walker
I heard the great college football coach Lou Holtz on a radio show I listen to this morning. He was discussing several different opinions he had and I found them to be very interesting. His four keys to life are this:
1. Have something to do.
2. Have someone to love.
3. Have something to hope for.
4. Have someone to believe in.
The more I thought about these things, the more I realized...I have them all. How lucky I am. Perhaps how lucky we all are. Some of these things are not hard to find in everyday life. We all have lots to do. It seems the list gets longer everyday. Most of us love someone and we are lucky if that person loves us right back. We also all hope for one thing or another because that is part of our human nature.
The last one though, is a tougher one. I can say from experience that it's not all that easy to have faith in others. We have all at one time or another uttered the words, "If you want something done right, you just have to do it yourself." Well that may be true when ordering fast food, or getting your dry cleaning done right. But in order to have genuine, real hope in someone....it's difficult.
Find someone to believe in and more importantly....tell them you do. It could make the difference to them. Who knows, it might even affect you too. None of us would be where we are now if at least one person didn't believe in us somehow or another.
I'll try to do better about my writing in the future.
Believing in others,
Walker
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
The Bright Side
Cap and Ely had seen it all. They had even seen snow in South Texas a few years back. Not just a little ice here and there, but real, full fledged snow. It was unheard of until then. They had seen flooding, although that seemed like ages ago, but it had happened. Now they were seeing something else they thought they never would. Wild cows.
The old ranch truck and cube trailer squeaked to a stop right next to the windmill by the Salt Well pens. Cap had been blowing the horn some, but it didn't matter. The cattle weren't far away from water, and since he had been feeding them everyday they just stood around that set of pens waiting on him to show up. They had grown accustomed to not looking for anything to eat since there was nothing.
Cap blew the horn and the cows abandoned their shade tree positions, striking a pretty good trot across the opening in front of the pens. They were sure hungry. Cap and Ely started their feeding process and while doing so had been surveying the herd to see if any of them needed attention in some way or another.
"Might bring that spray trailer back in a few days and try to get them flies off'em," offered Cap. "That's all we need next is the flies tryin' to carry'em off."
"Some of them older cows are so thin the flies might could," said Ely.
They sat a few more minutes and watched them eat the cubes that they had dumped from their trailer. Cap had said more than once that was the best thing ever bought on the whole ranch. Ely tended to agree since in the past he had done most of the feeding while Cap drove the truck.
About that time, in the distant brush line something moved. It caught Ely and Cap's eye at the same time and they looked in the same direction. A big bald faced brindle cow, with a VERY large bull calf came walking very slowly across the opening toward them. Actually, toward the cubes they had fed.
"Well....I'll be." whispered Cap. "We ain't seen her in a pretty good while. I was almost sure she was on the neighbors and she's definitely been too wild for us to catch."
"She looks pretty good considerin'. That old big calf....bad drought, guess she's too crazy to notice either one," offered Ely in the same hushed tone.
They both sat in the pickup still as could be. You'd have thought they were watching a TV show quality buck. They just sat in awe as she sashayed across the opening with her head up looking like she might want to run off at any second. She didn't though, as the smell of those cubes was more than she could stand. She walked up and started eating.
Cap started the truck, and eased out the gate of the pens and drove on down the road toward the headquarters. They both let what they had just seen soak in for a few minutes on the drive.
"You know it's dry when cows you haven't seen in over 2 years are comin' to feed." said Cap as they eased home to fill the trailer up with more cubes and make another feeding round.
"I guess if you want to find the bright side of a bad drought, gettin' your cattle gentler would be one," admitted Cap as he looked out the window at nothing.
Pray for rain boys,
Walker
The old ranch truck and cube trailer squeaked to a stop right next to the windmill by the Salt Well pens. Cap had been blowing the horn some, but it didn't matter. The cattle weren't far away from water, and since he had been feeding them everyday they just stood around that set of pens waiting on him to show up. They had grown accustomed to not looking for anything to eat since there was nothing.
Cap blew the horn and the cows abandoned their shade tree positions, striking a pretty good trot across the opening in front of the pens. They were sure hungry. Cap and Ely started their feeding process and while doing so had been surveying the herd to see if any of them needed attention in some way or another.
"Might bring that spray trailer back in a few days and try to get them flies off'em," offered Cap. "That's all we need next is the flies tryin' to carry'em off."
"Some of them older cows are so thin the flies might could," said Ely.
They sat a few more minutes and watched them eat the cubes that they had dumped from their trailer. Cap had said more than once that was the best thing ever bought on the whole ranch. Ely tended to agree since in the past he had done most of the feeding while Cap drove the truck.
About that time, in the distant brush line something moved. It caught Ely and Cap's eye at the same time and they looked in the same direction. A big bald faced brindle cow, with a VERY large bull calf came walking very slowly across the opening toward them. Actually, toward the cubes they had fed.
"Well....I'll be." whispered Cap. "We ain't seen her in a pretty good while. I was almost sure she was on the neighbors and she's definitely been too wild for us to catch."
"She looks pretty good considerin'. That old big calf....bad drought, guess she's too crazy to notice either one," offered Ely in the same hushed tone.
They both sat in the pickup still as could be. You'd have thought they were watching a TV show quality buck. They just sat in awe as she sashayed across the opening with her head up looking like she might want to run off at any second. She didn't though, as the smell of those cubes was more than she could stand. She walked up and started eating.
Cap started the truck, and eased out the gate of the pens and drove on down the road toward the headquarters. They both let what they had just seen soak in for a few minutes on the drive.
"You know it's dry when cows you haven't seen in over 2 years are comin' to feed." said Cap as they eased home to fill the trailer up with more cubes and make another feeding round.
"I guess if you want to find the bright side of a bad drought, gettin' your cattle gentler would be one," admitted Cap as he looked out the window at nothing.
Pray for rain boys,
Walker
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Rain Dances
I went home for the first time in about a month last weekend. When you go there after being in East Texas for as long as I have, it's a welcome sight....but it's dry. When I say dry, that is an understatement. The oldtimers are saying it's just as bad as in the '50's. I only know a few people who were around then to remember, and I take their word for it. I helped Arlen feed cows for 2 days and I got a first hand look at it.
This is basically what the cows have to eat. Nothing. Not even dry grass, just dirt.
You don't have to call'em for very long because they are standing around waiting on you to get there with something to eat.
They vacuum up every morsel.
Most of the time, it would be a stretch to feed cows Alfalfa hay in South Texas. In this case, it's good feed, and it has alot less waste than round bales of Coastal.
This picture says it all. What can you do you ask? Pray for rain. If you find a feather on the ground, tie it in your hair, don't be afraid to look silly and do your best rain dance. Who knows...between the prayers and dances, maybe we'll get some soon. This did make me think of a story and I'm going to put it up tomorrow.
Walker
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