Rodeoing In My Dreams

Growing up in rural Texas surrounded largely by a landscape of agriculture I sometime wonder why I am not some sort of cowboy. Riding a few horses and punching a few cows during my youth is the closest I've really ever come to calling myself a cowboy. Today I wear blue jeans all the time and even strap on a pair of boots several times a year but a cowboy I am not.
Most years I read about a Rodeo near by and begin thinking about those days as a youth, riding horses and slapping around strong minded cows. Young and fearless, Oh if only those days could return! One or two nights a year I try to go back to my youth by attending a rural Rodeo in a small Texas town. Just because I don't own a cowboy hat or a pair of wing tipped boots that does not make me any less of a true Texan. I've never been denied entrance to a Rodeo just because I was wearing a pair of Reeboks. I've already admitted I'm no cowboy but then again I only think I know what a cowboy is. They seem to be a rare breed, only coming out at night and all showing up at small town Rodeo arenas all over Southwest America. I drive by one of these arenas several times a month and the only thing I usually see are weeds and an empty parking lot. But for one night each year I am a cowboy if only in my mind. I pull into that parking lot and try to remember those youthful days of riding horses and playing cowboy. In my mind I climb into a pen with a wild bronc waiting for the gate to open. Finnaly that gate opens and I ride that bronc for a full 8 seconds, never feeling the sandy floor of the arena. The imaginary crowd comes to their feat as the public address system announces I've made the best ride of the night.


Oh well, I can dream can't I? It sure feels good to be 16 again!