Yippie Kye Yay!

Well Kept Secret #1: I grew up with animals, on a small farm.

farm –noun
1. a tract of land, usually with a house, barn, silo, etc., on which crops and often livestock are raised for livelihood.

I usually dispute the definition of a farm and tell city folk, who think i grew up on a farm, that i didn't really. But, we had some land, with a house and barn where we grew some of our own crops and raised livestock for our family. This was not really a money-making thing for our family, at least according to my childhood understanding. It was a money-saving thing.

I grew up running around my dad's feed and tack store, dodging big bags of dog food and smelling the leather from saddles. We played in the hay barn and practiced lasso techniques. I had my first job at the feed store, selling bridles, cinches and writing up horseshoe orders. Country music and boots were heavy themes that I did my best to avoid.

Somehow, it just wasn't cool to me. I may have been the best rider in my family at the age of four. and maybe at one point i really liked owning horses, chickens, turkeys and sheep. But at some point, my adolescent desires to be "cool" left me with no choice but to spite my childhood and desire another way of life.

I have lived many years this way. Country music grates in my ears and I pity those folk who wear boots and spend hours caring for their animals.

Visiting the stock show after many years away, my sister and i ran into the current owners of the feed store. Long time family friends, we grew up playing with their girls. So much about this long forgotten part of my history is familiar. The smells, the sounds, i could still probably give you an education about the different kinds of corn you could feed horse or cattle.

As a child visiting the stock show was a fun way to hang out with dad while he was working. For three weeks in January, the National Western Stock Show comes to Denver. Professional bull riding, tractor pulls, and dog shows are just part of the fun. Dad would help run a booth of supplies for sale for the feed store. While he talked to people all night, we could run the isles, spending our quarters on honey sticks or mammoth jaw breakers. The weather would always be bad, and we would get home well after dark. But time with dad was sweet.

This year, at the Stock Show, I have much less spite in my heart, and a little more love for the ways of the West. The announcer and rodeo clown's jokes are real cheesy and i liked it. I respect the cowboys a little more for their livelihood. I appreciate the style of the Westernaires as they fly in formation on their horses.

So, hats off to the Stock Show. and perhaps, a little bit more peace with my past.