Don't Ever Forget Where You Come From.

The truth is, it matters not where you finish, it is what you accomplished along the way. I am constantly amazed at where the folks that I grew up with are now. I am not talking about an address or a job, I am talking about where they are in the development of their character and the human being they have now become.

I am almost 50 years old and I don't have any relationships with anyone that I would consider privileged, entitled, or a product of an easy and trouble free life. My relationships are dominated by people who grew up in the middle of America, they learned to say the Pledge of Allegiance, they learned how to work hard and accept responsibility for their actions. I know that Midland, Texas is not like every where else in the world and for that I am thankful. Midland, Texas, when I grew up there, was a well educated cross section of America. Almost everyone there came from somewhere else. For the most part, we grew up in an upper middle class town and we were born to parents who had survived a depression, WWII and the Korean War. They used the GI Bill to educate themselves. They struggled to find a way through the ambiguity of Vietnam, the civil rights movement, Water Gate and an all out social and sexual revolution. They did the best they could to prepare us for a world that they hoped would be better than what they had. From where I sit right now, I know they did a damn good Job!

I consider it a privilege to know so many folks that honor God with their lives, they give back to their communities and they readily acknowledge that the successes of their lives are not purely the result of their own efforts. The part of America that I come from believes that we owe our freedom to someone else, that feeding our appetites is not the only reason to live and that Personal Responsibility and Personal Freedom run hand in hand.

May God continue to bless the regular folks from the regular towns all across this great nation. I finally realized why the rest of the world tries to discount the non Hollywood, non New York portion of our country. The power of the United States is in a hard working mom and dad, a fresh faced kid in a shit hole third world country trying to protect the weak, and values that only exist where someone has the balls to teach them.

I thank God that is where I come from.

Patrick

Coming up on two years now, I still miss his silly grin. I have laid awake at night and wondered how a spouse ever recovers from the loss of their companion. How does a child move on without the tangible father of flesh and bone? I know the Bible promises that God is the Father to the Fatherless, I have claimed that scripture a time or two for myself, I'm still not sure how that works.

Every time I see his girls, I think about how the ancients carved monuments of stone to honor loved ones lost, and how those lifeless rocks, though they may last a thousand years; they don't hold a candle to the flesh a blood of those children Patrick was taken from. All the good that Patrick was, his tenacity, his intellect and his inviting personality are still here in the form of his girls. I am thankful for the mercy of this consolation.

For my friend Carlos Banuelos

Vaquero

“I rode in wooden stirrups and the dust raised by
my ponies, was smoke, from my altar offered up to
God above.
In the canyon and barrancas and willows by the
creek bank, I chased the wild cattle through the
live oak trees.
Aross valleys ridge and mesa and the hills baked
oh, so yellow, my ponies sleek and dancing were all
a man would need.
In the fog of early morning, Or the misty haze of
twilight, Beyond the sagging ruins of these adobe
walls.
You may see me in the dust, that shimmers in the
half light, Or hear me in the whisper, of the grass
so green and tall.
My soul is dancing in the moonlight, I mingle with
each grain of sand in the land that is my birthright.
I am still here, todavía estoy aquí, I am still here”


*Text within Quotation marks is a paraphrase from the “Vaquero Song” by Dave Stamey


I have seen talent and I have seen beauty, I have
seen the sacrifice and the hard work that creates
respect in the eyes of a man’s fiercest competitors.

I have seen tenderness and love, I have seen
commitment to a family and to friends that draws the
attention of the hardest heart.

I have seen men,
men of unquenchable passion pour their souls into the
flesh and bone of their mounts, knowing full well that
these sculptures of muscle, hair and hoof will never
be displayed in a museum and appreciated by future
generations. They are here for moments like full
moonlight or a hard rain and then they are gone.

But I am witness and I remain.
“Todavía estoy aquí. I am still here. Todavía estoy
aquí.”

The witnesses are many and the beauty of these
visions is burned into our souls with the hot iron of
sadness. It will scab and it will scar. But we will thank
God for the reminder, we thank him for the gift
that we now cling to and we accept our
responsibility.


Innocence will protect some and ignorance will
spare others.

We are the privledged ones. We who comprehend
and recognize the preciousness of those moments
when we saw with our own eyes, the miracle of man
and beast in perfect pitch, in perfect rhythm, a
song of the clearest notes and most beautiful
melody,

We bear witness and we remain.

When we gather to mourn and when we gather to
celebrate, every loved one in our lifetime will see
proof of the miracles and hear the beautiful
melodies,

Carlos todavia esta aqui.

Carlos and Jett at the 2009 Texas High School Rodeo State Finals Cutting Horse Show.

EstroGen-isis

I like girls. My dogs are girls, my favorite horse is a girl and I am pretty sure I have more friends that are girls than guys. I have spent a lot of time thinking about that trying to understand. Why? I love sports, hate to shop and don't know squat about white wine , so I'm not a metro in any way. Ok, well my iphone cover is hot pink but thats all about being "Tough Enough To Wear Pink" for Breast Cancer Research

There was a very wealthy business man in my community who passed away recently. Several of my business associates were discussing this man's passing and the obvious disconnect between our collective experience with this person and the obituary that was published in the paper (a common occurrence in Midland) . One of the guys who had a knowledge of the man's background spoke up. "His parents sent him off to military school when he was 7 years old, he was raised by WOLVES."

I now have a grater understanding of the "Alpha Female" concept since I started taking care of a herd of seven horses. The boss of my little group is a little sorrel mare I call DeeDee. She is tough, works hard and does everything I ask her to do in the saddle. But everyone lines up behind her at feeding time, she is the boss lady. Two older mares and four older geldings all submit to her lead. Contrary to the way Hollywood portrays them, bands of wild horses are led by a tough experienced mare, not a big young stallion.

Like the business acquaintance I described above, I am a product of my raising. I am in no way saying that my mom was an "Alpha Female", she was not. My mom was diagnosed with MS when she was 27 years old and had three small boys, ages 1, 3 and 6 years. My grandmother died when mom was 11 and she was one of a dozen children. She had 4 sisters and three were older than her. When my grandfather remarried soon after my grandmother's death, my mom and her younger sisters moved in with the older girls and they survived together. They were a tenacious, independent and hard working bunch. When my mom was faced with the task of raising those 3 boys with a disease like MS, those sisters swooped in and helped my dad pick up the slack. When my dad left us years later, it was that same bunch of aunts that came in and shored everything up. The men in their lives became our male influences as did my mother's brothers. But these strong women left their mark on me, some of those marks, I am ashamed to say, were visible for a few days.

These women taught me to trust my instincts, they held loyalty and fidelity as the highest of their principals and taught me that emotions when properly focused were power. They also taught me that women appreciate men who notice the subtle elements of their dress. It is the expression of their own personal and unique style that they hope men will recognize and admire. My mom taught me that a man that understands that a women does not necessarily need a man to be complete is a better man.

In that this is the makeup of my formative years, it is my EstroGen-isis!

Mercy; The Message of the Holiday Season

Yes, I am totally up to speed on the Christmas Story, I know the story of the prophecy of the coming Messiah and the virgin birth in the humblest of surroundings. But I have been thinking about the message we really need to be sending out during the holiday time. I think we all understand the symbolism of the gifts we give and receive and how that relates to the gift of the Christ child who would later provide a means to redeem a fallen mankind. Isn't this a story of mercy?

Mercy, that is something I struggle to integrate into my life. I carry around some abandonment issues, so disloyalty is one of those things that I have difficult time forgiving. So granting mercy to those that I believe have wronged me is difficult.

What exactly is mercy?

I had a friend from college call me on the phone a year and a half ago and say, "Rutt, your old girlfriend is really sick, I see her name on the prayer list at my church, I have an email address, you should shoot her a note." I stammered a little bit, I was a little taken aback. The circumstances surrounding the end of our relationship were very painful for me. I remember thinking in high school that breaking up with some girl was harder than getting dumped on. I was wrong! When my turn came around for a grown up version of a broken heart, I thought I had been hit by a bus, shot, beaten and kicked all in the same instant. I remember that it wasn't the kind of pain that you could "walk off" in a couple of hours or days. I limped around for months and lost about 30 pounds, and at that time, I really couldn't spare 30 pounds. Oh, how times change. Fast forward 30 years and here I am, confronted with a dilemma, do I make contact with this girl that had hurt me deeply 30 years prior or do I just let it slide?

I sent her an email asking about her illness and letting her know that I would add her to my "Yellow Sticky Note Prayer List". I got back a quick response with a telephone number and an invitation to call her. She stated that she couldn't type as fast as she could talk and that she wanted to catch up. I will never forget receiving that email on my blackberry, Kaden was pitching in a Jr. Varsity Baseball game and had pitched 5 scoreless innings and had two extra base hits, it was a good day. I called her and she was also sitting at her son's baseball game. So we talked baseball for a few minutes and then she explained to me the horror of Ovarian Cancer and that she was beginning an experimental drug protocol. She was excited by the possibilities. That was in early March and we traded emails a few times over the next couple of months and I honored my commitment to pray for her. An email I sent in late June went unanswered and when I called in early July to see what was going on, She said she had been in and out of the hospital and that she had abandoned the new drug therapy and had returned home with Hospice.

Then came one of those moments when you say something that you would normally say in a situation like that and you have no idea what it is going to take to back it up. I said, " Is there anything I can do for you?" Her response was "I would really like for you to come see me!" Now I am not a total dumb ass, I knew she was dying but the reality of it was not getting to my heart. I gave an awkward, "Sure, I can do that," knowing that it might be a little uncomfortable meeting her husband in such a circumstance. Then came the staggering blow, "If you are going to come, you need to come in the next two weeks."

I had a long talk with Deanna about the situation and asked her to go with me, she declined and said, "She has something she wants to work out with you, this is something you need to do and you need to go now." Kaden was scheduled to compete at a big horse show in Fort Worth the next weekend, so I loaded my horses and gear after work, drove 5 Hours to Jacksboro, Texas and kicked my horses out at a friend's place. I then drove on to Dallas, got into a hotel room around 2:00am, slept a few hours and caught a plane to Tulsa at 8:30am. Her husband picked me up at the airport and took me to their home. This girl was an athlete, she was a tennis player, a basketball player and a softball player. After college she had been a triathlete. The disease had turned her into a bag of bones, it was a visual shock.

I spent the entire day with her, we laughed, looked at old pictures, talked about our families and we talked about dying and living. She said that she was sorry for hurting me. She wanted to clear the book on us before she moved on. I told her we were square as far as I was concerned and she had no reason to think that I had any ill will toward her at all. Quite the contrary, while there was no romantic love between us, I still loved her and that after she passed on I would carry some very fond memories of our time together in school. She died a few days later.

When I think about her now, I think about how a man learns something about mercy.

The message for the holiday season; mercy came to us in the form of a baby, who grew up to be a man, who could bear the weight of all of mankind's transgressions upon his blameless soul.

Warning Label; a guide to interaction with me.

I have a voice, it is not the same old crap you hear every day. I am the personality equivalent of the old school Odessa Permian Football Offense. I run the ball off tackle, I run the sweep and I run them both effectively. Once I get you leaning and bringing your safety up and you start anticipating, I run the counter play. If I can get you off balance in your thinking, I can find a way to move you. So here is the script for my first series. Off tackle with traditional values, a big sweep of cowboy redneck sensibilities and another big sweep with Loyalty pitching the ball to Honor and then lead blocking. Now that you think you have me figured out, I hit you with a big dose of feminine awareness and instinct, empathy for hormone changes, the need to accessorize and a pink iphone cover; my version of the wingback counter.

I mix sarcasm and tears like college kids mix rum and coke. I love the company of women but I guard the fidelity of my marriage more closely than I do my bank account. I appreciate art, poetry and music, but I love guns, hunting and sports. I believe that my friendships define who I am and they are the only meaningful monument that will ever stand as evidence that I lived. I don't give a crap about being an acquaintance, I only have one kind of relationship with anyone, a close one. If I cannot get past the superficial with you, it is a waste of time for both of us.

What is Love?

Three times in my life I have had the honor of sitting in a hospital room with a dying friend for a few hours or an evening. Just to give a really tired spouse a chance at some rest that cannot be had in the context of a hospital room. In this case I sit here with my oldest fly fishing associate. He is really sick and he has been worn to a frazzle by the chemo protocol that he has been riding on for some time. I don't mean to infer that he is on death's doorstep, but there is no doubt in my mind that his place in line is not all the way around the block from the door.

I know this man really well. We have fly fished together for years. We have seen the wonder of God's creation from a knee deep location in a trout stream. These events give men a view into the soul. Their own as well as their compadre's.

I struggle with sickness as a component in life. I have to wonder why some forms of death have to come slowly and painfully and drag over several years time? I can typically put the full force of my coping skills into just about every crappy circumstance, but I have yet to find a way to remodel my view of sickness. We could just as easily have a universe where accidental death and old age are life's only perils. I am not really clear on who opened "Pandora's Box" but if there is any fact that supports the mythology, I am tracking the responsible party down in the afterlife and kicking their ass.

So back to my question. What is love? Is it a whole lot of things that are really difficult to articulate? Why would a man spend any time sitting with a person who is dying? Is this not a futile waste of time. Does it not make sense that since this life is short, we should not waste any of it sitting around waiting for someone else to die?

Maybe; HOPEFULLY; God provides additional mercy for those making the transition to another existence, and maybe the long drawn out process is more about helping the people that remain make the adjustment to life without a particular life.

I do think right now that if I am destined to suffer for some period of time before my end comes, I want to go out like a Plains Indian. Put me out on a cold day with an old blanket and let me die of exposure. Going to sleep in the cold cannot be any worse than letting a fresh faced "Doogey Houser" make guesses on just how much poison he can give you without killing you. I'll take six hours of shivers and a "nap unto death" anytime. Maybe I'm a big "wuss" and this is taking the easy way out. Just let me know if you really think throwing up until you die of dehydration and starvation is a better answer.

I will say, the guy lying in the bed over in the corner is fighting like hell to stay alive for someone. I know him well enough to know he isn't scared of death beyond worrying about his family. There is tremendous honor in the way people live their last months suffering in quiet dignity.
I do know that he and his family are experiencing the full force of love as they walk down this crappy road. So maybe that is what....

I guess I have all night to sit here and try to figure this one out.