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.