Under the Wire

I have a lot of old friends. Now, that sentence can be taken one of two ways. It either means I have known a lot of my friends a long time or a lot of my friends are old. Guess it’s a mix of the two. Most, however have one thing in common. They were or still are, cowboys. Fact is, if they weren’t they never made my list of permanent pals.

Please understand, I’m not prejudiced. I just can’t hold a very long conversation with a dentist, car mechanic or nuclear physicist. Heck, I couldn’t even spell that last one. Had to look it up.

With cowboys, though, the conversation can go on for hours, especially with the truly elder ones. I like talking to these guys until they say something like, “Do you remember that time when we were seniors in high school and …” What in the world is this guy talking about? In high school with him? Impossible. Must be dementia setting in.

He then goes on to say, “Come on, We were at a jackpot roping in Livermore and a little bitty calf came up the rope and cleaned your clock. Funniest thing I’ve ever seen. Crowd laughed and laughed.”

My mind raced, “How in the world could this old guy know about one of my most embarrassing moments?” Grudgingly it comes to me. We did graduate high school together. How did he get so old looking while I haven’t changed much at all? Guess that explains why my grandfather’s reflection in the mirror watches me shave every morning.

Then it happens. I start to recall those long past days. I remember our family’s version of a family picnic. We always were driving cows somewhere and stopped at a water hole for the cows around noon. Everyone dismounted, tied our horses to one side of the trailer and gathered on the other shady side to eat, using the fender as a serving table for sandwiches my mother and aunt had brought along. Best picnic a kid could ever have. Laughing, talking about how good our horses were doing and making fun of whoever’s horse had bucked them off crossing the creek. Hated that part when it was me. Rest of the time it was funny.

I guess those days were a while back. Maybe there is a reason I know so many “old cowboys.” Guess I had better start avoiding them. Might begin acting and talking like them if I’m not careful.

Did I mention I must have been really young when I began high school?