Wednesday, July 31, 2013

Saying My Goodbyes

I often write and joke about the 'atrocities' of growing old.  I bemoan my dwindling physical and mental status on pretty much a daily basis. Yesterday I was reminded once again that the alternative is not so good either.

I won't go into all the details but Monday evening,  July 30th,  one of my 4 legged children went into colic.  I stayed with her through a long night and together, we fought a good fight.  But around dawn, we lost that struggle.  And it felt as if the air had been sucked out of the world.  She wan't old, she was in the prime of her life, strong, beautiful, healthy and happy.  And then....she was gone.

On July 30th, 1989, I was performing at a rodeo in Arkansas.  After the rodeo, a group of us went into to get a bite to eat.  A local approached our table and asked if we were from the rodeo.  Then he said,  "Did you hear? Lane Frost got killed on his bull in Cheyenne today!"

In the stunned silence, it felt as if the air was sucked out of the restaurant.

I knew Lane.  I knew of his incredible talent, I knew his smile.  I knew of his struggles and his dreams to win a World Championship and plans for a ranch in Oklahoma with his wife Kellie.  He wasn't old, he was in the prime of his life, strong, handsome, healthy and happy.  At 3:30 PM, in chute #7, with his rope on a brindle bull called "Takin' Care Of Business", Lane nodded his head and then....15 seconds later, he was gone.

Maybe getting old isn't so bad after all.  Goodbye Touch of Onyx (Classy), goodbye Lane.

Wednesday, July 17, 2013

Good God, I'm Pissed!!!



I'm mad, I'm so mad I can hardly type. I hope after reading this, you will be mad too.


Hitting the newstands on Friday, July 19 will the the latest edition of Rolling Stone Magazine. Not a publication I subscribe to or purchase. And I sure as hell won't buy one now.


The magazine will feature on it's cover, a photo of Boston bombing suspect Dzhokhar Tsarnaev. ( By the way, that's the only time I will type his name. From here on out I will refer to him as the "killer")


Now it's my understanding that the magazine cover is considered a great honor and has been basically reserved for legends in the rock music industry. Some of the greatest rock musicians in history have graced that cover.


So, what the hell is that killer doing on the cover? I can tell you .......he is going to sell a lot of magazines for Rolling Stone. And why will people buy that magazine with his picture on it? Simple.....


We are all looking for answers. Everyone wants to know why 2 young men with their lives ahead of them, would do such a unspeakable act? How could they deliberately kill so many innocent people? What did they possibly have to gain from this? Why did this happen?


Unfortunately, that article, and no other article, will be able to answer those questions because people....You CAN'T EXPLAIN CRAZY!!! It's that simple. They may be intelligent but they are CRAZY!!!


There is no explanation for something like this. There is no excuse, not religion, not politics, not revenge, not money, NOTHING explains something like this except CRAZY!!!


And so, what do we do? We continue to ask and in the meantime, we feed the egos of these killers by giving them this notoriety. We buy into the idea that we must have the knowledge to prevent another such tragedy. You can't FIX CRAZY!!!




What will the families of all the victims feel when they walk by a newstand and see that photo? Where are the pictures of the dead, the horribly wounded, the ones who's lives will never be the same? Why can't their pictures and their stories be on the cover of magazines? Bluntly put, it wouldn't sell magazines.


It's a CRAZY world we live in. I won't be buying that magazine, EVER. But I will be offering up a silent prayer for comfort and peace to every family that was affected by that killer. Damn, I'm still mad!

Thursday, July 4, 2013

My Dad's Legacy

Fourth of July.  A holiday that through the years has meant many things.  As a child, it was lighting 'snakes' and penny poppers in the driveway.  During my rodeo career it meant lots and lots of performances, usually in the heat.  

Then one day, it meant loss and sadness.  My Dad passed away on the 4th of July and now it will forever have the stigma of that event.

I think about him a lot more now than I ever did before.  Or maybe just in a different way.  My Dad was 44 years old when he and my Mom adopted me as an infant.  That means he was 58 years old when I turned 14.  The same age as I am now and God help me, I can't imagine having a 14 year old right now.

What I have come to wonder about is, "Did he have the same doubts then as I have now?  Did he hear the tick tick of the clock and dread the steady advance of aging?"  If so, he never said so.  Maybe I just didn't notice but I look back on memories and I can't remember any indication of his trepidation into the 'golden years'.  I remember that he got up every morning and went off to open his businesses.  He came home usually after dark for supper, then a little television and a nap in his recliner.  He lived for the stolen hours he could have on the golf course.  And all the while, I never noticed that he was getting old.

I wonder when he knew?  I wonder  what he thought in his private moments, about the loss of his youth, his physicality.  And most of all, I wonder how he reconciled the image he saw in the mirror with the image he had of himself in his mind.

Maybe it's easier for men but I suspect they are just less vocal about it.  You know, most women feel the need to 'cuss and discuss everything stage of this journey.  Maybe men simply suffer in silence.

After pondering this, I have a new appreciation for my Dad.  He died at 82.  I'm nowhere close to that but some days I think I've got one foot in the grave.  I wish I could know now, just what he knew then.

What I do know is....the world was a better place for having had John A Crews and my life was so blessed by his presence in it.  That is a legacy I hope to claim someday.