Waylon and Willie Were Wrong

I am sitting here tonight and "surfing the web". I have Pandora opened in another tab and the song "Mamas Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys" by Waylon Jennings and Willie Nelson came on. I did something that I hadn't done in a long time, I stopped and LISTENED to the words. After that song went off a song by Chris LeDoux came on, and the only thing I could think was Waylon and Willie are wrong.

Let me clarify one thing, the man that Waylon and Willie is singing about is not a cowboy. He is at best the character from that horrible movie from the 80's, Urban Cowboy. Any mother would be proud to have her son grow up to be a cowboy.

I will be the first to admit and I may be a little bias on the subject though. Although I never actually worked on a large beef ranch, I was blessed enough to grow up and fulfill a dream I had since my first trip to a professional rodeo; I was a bull rider.

I have asked several bull riders the same question, I have been asked 100's of times "What would make you want to ride a bull?" It is funny that we all seem to give the same answer. "I don't know, I just had to ride after I saw it." For some reason none of us could ever put the "need" to ride into words, but it always went back to when we saw our first rodeo.

I was 12 years old, and my parents owned a camper that was built into a cabin in the mountains of North Georgia. One weekend while we were at the camper, my Uncle asked me if I was going to the rodeo in the campground, about 2 miles down the hill from us? I told him I didn't know, and he gave me $2.00 and told me to go watch it for him since he had to go town. When it got close to the time for the rodeo to start I climbed on my bike and started down "bobsled course" (the grown ups called a road, but it was like a bobsled course on my bike) that led to the campground.

I paid my money to get in the gate, bought some popcorn and a coke then found a seat on the bottom of the bleachers. I watched the grand entry to start the rodeo, and laughed when the clown made his appearance. Then I turned my attention to the bucking chutes as a bareback bronc exploded out of a whirlwind of dust and launched himself toward the sun, with a man that looked more like a rag doll than a man tied to his back. The bronc bucked and kicked and made a lap around the arena, everybody stood and cheered as the whistle blew and the pick up men moved in to the rescue. I didn't stand and cheer, I just sat there and watched. After several more bronc riders made their try at the prize money, we were told the action was going to move to the other end of the arena, it was time for the bull dogging. I watched with my little 12 year old eye glued to the sight of that Quarter horse screaming out of that box after that big ole' steer. For a split second I forgot I was at a rodeo and thought I was at a drag race. Before I could blink that cowboy somehow slid from the saddle onto that running steer, stopped and threw him before I catch my breath.

Event after event, roping and riding, the clown blowing things up and telling jokes, and I was sitting there still holding my popcorn. I couldn't think about eating or drinking, I couldn't look away from the dusty arena, I had to force myself to blink because I was afraid I was going to miss something.

Then it happened; it was time for the bull riding.

The music got louder and the crowd started going crazy. The clown rolled a big barrel into the arena and two other men came in behind him, they were dressed the same but these two were no clowns. They were the bull fighters. I looked back to the bucking chutes and saw horns and humps above the gates, cowboys climbing down behind those humps and started putting ropes on them. The announcer was explaining the event, the clown was dancing on the barrel, the crowd was standing and cheering, and I was frozen in time. I couldn't take my eyes off of those horns, I couldn't breath, I couldn't hear, I couldn't wait until that gate was opened.

After what seemed like an eternity, the gate finally opened and the biggest meanest looking creature I had ever laid my young eyes on blew out of the chute like he was sitting on a stick of dynamite. The bull jumped and kicked and spun his way to the middle of the arena, he was going at the speed of light and in super slow motion all at once. It was the loudest mixture of noise I had ever heard and it was as quite as a newborn baby's nursery all at the same time. The ride lasted for 8 seconds, but it took 8 years to watch. I was breathing faster than I had ever breathed in my life, but I also couldn't breath. Then in a flash, the rider hit the ground on his back and the bull landed in his chest.

He laid there and never moved, his left arm was pointing to Heaven and as stiff as a 2x4. It scared me to death, but I knew I had to try to ride him. I can't explain what I was feeling that day, I was sitting on that metal bleacher, shaking, and not knowing if I was shaking from the fear I felt or the uncontrollable desire I had to ride that bull.

After nine years of thinking about that rodeo, and wanting to ride bulls, I was able to get on my first one. I was never too good at riding, spent more money trying to ride then I could have ever made. Received injuries that still plague me 20 years later, and the only regret I can think of is I wish I could have ridden one more.

You see that man that Willie and Waylon sang about, wasn't a cowboy. In the song they don't tell of the qualities that a cowboy possesses. I can't imagine the man in the song having a dream and working to achieve that dream. I can't see him driving all night after a rodeo to get back to work on time to earn enough money to go again that night. You see Professional Rodeo is the only Professional Sport I will even watch, or follow. I understand the riders, I know what they have gone through just to get to the rodeo and I understand they don't get paid unless they win.

When you are a Rodeo Cowboy, you "play" hurt, you pay your own way, and you don't get paid for just showing up. It's not enough to make your ride, you have to earn your money or go home empty handed.

I look back over the past 20 years in rodeo, both as a rider and photographer and I think about everything that I have experienced. I have made many friends, and saw many of them injured and some die. I've seen a lot of the country, but mostly in the middle of the night and at 70 mph, trying to get back home or to another town for another rodeo. I've been beat, hooked, stepped on, kicked and ran over. I had my life changed at a bull riding, when I accepted Jesus Christ as my Saviour. I have pulled my son's bull rope on several rides of his own, knowing the whole time that he couldn't explain why he wants to ride and being heartbroken because I know one day his only regret will be wishing he could ride just one more too.

I have given a lot to rodeo, and rodeo has taken a lot from me, but I still don't know of a Mother that wouldn't be proud to have a cowboy as a son.

                   
                                    

Three things every boy needs

You don't have to spend much time around me to know that I can not stand how we as a country are raising our boys. We are losing real men in our society, because we have raised our boys to be soft. We won't even let our son's get hurt anymore. Don't get me wrong I don't want to see my son or anyone else be injured, but that isn't the same as getting hurt. There is nothing wrong with a young boy learning how to deal with a bully, I know I will get all kinds of comments about how bullies are bad. I guess I am out of my time then, because when I was younger dealing with a bully was just a lesson you learned on your road to being a man. A boy would learn that when he made a stand against a bully, the bully would back down, but sometimes you had to prove yourself to him and you did that by defending yourself. If you don't believe what I am saying, just watch the news tonight and see how many "men" will not stand their ground on anything. (Congress is a good place to start) The bully is just like the game of football. A coach I had in high school would say "Football is a great way to learn about life, it is the only game that you know you are going to be knocked down in, and know you will have to get back up and keep going."

There are three things every boy needs so he can grow into a man.

The first thing is he needs a dog. Any breed of dog will work, but a hunting dog is best. I always loved in the book Where the Red Fern Grows, when Billy Coleman was dieing to have his own hunting dog and his Daddy told  him they couldn't afford hunting dogs, but a nearby family's collie had just had pups and they may be able to get one of them. Billy answered and said "I don't want no old collie dog, I want HOUNDS!" A boy will learn from a pet, but he will learn more from a hunting dog. I know you are sitting there asking yourself, "What in the world can a boy learn from a dog?"

Well I'm glad you asked, first thing is he learns is how to love something. That little puppy will steal his heart and at the same will teach your son how to love on the same level that you love him. I can't stand when an adult says their dog is like a part of the family, but I love to see a boy have that connection with his pup. That little pup will look to your son for everything, from his food, water, shelter to his education. When ever I see a man that acts like he can't take care of his children it makes me want to slap him upside of the head. You see as your son learns to take care of dog, he will be laying the foundation to know how to take care of his own children someday. There is nothing that will make a young boy (or full grown man) swell with pride, and nearly bust at the seams then seeing his dog do what he trained him to do. It takes several months to years to "finish" a hunting dog, and when you see your pup that you spent all of that time working with, doing what he was trained to do, and putting every ounce of heart he has into the chase... well I don't have the vocabulary to put that feeling into words, but you will know it when you see it in your son's eyes.

Yes, that little dog will teach your son love, patience, wisdom and discipline. All of which are stepping stones to being a man.

The second thing he needs is a gun. He needs his own gun for one lesson that he will need for the rest of his life. That lesson is how to handle power. There is nothing on Earth, except the Word of God that puts more power into a person's hands then a gun. The ability to handle power is an ability that is lost on the men of our day, from Washington and Wall St. all the way down to Main St., we have millions of people that can not handle power of any amount. I have sold thousands of guns over the years while working at different gun shops and one piece of advice I always gave was to let your kids shoot cans of Coke, and different targets that will explode. I used to tell parents it was fun for them to make the mess, but they were able to see what a bullet did when it hit something. Shooting paper only makes a clean hole, and a young boy doesn't see the power he is in control of.

The gun's next lesson is the 3 P's. It has the power to protect, provide, and preserve. The gun will teach your son ability to protect, because one day Mama, Daddy and his teachers aren't going to be there, and it will be him that people are looking to for their protection. It teaches provisions, I always taught my son, that no matter what happens in life if he had his gun, some seeds and some dirt he would not go hungry. One thing I have learned in all of these years with a gun in my hand, is that food is just a trigger pull away. It will also teach him how to preserve, being raised with a gun he will learn the value and importance of our Constitution, and our Bill of Rights. He will learn that the one factor that preserves those pieces of our history and heritage, that makes us Americans is his gun.

The third and most important thing he needs is a Daddy. His Daddy is the glue that binds the lessons he learned from the dog and gun, deep into his soul. His daddy is the most important teaching tool he has in his life. I have heard people talk about their marriage ending, but not the duties of being a father. Well, your first duty as a father is to teach your son how to keep a marriage together, if he doesn't learn from you; you can bet the world won't teach him. On the day I got married, my Daddy gave me $100 and told me to stay married as long as he does. If my wife and I live another 40 years I will succeed in his challenge.

Your son will learn how to handle every lesson in life by observing you, the dog and gun will teach lessons, but you will teach how to handle those lessons. Without you, he will have to turn to the world to be taught how to be a man and all you have to do is turn on the Disney channel to figure out we can not have the world teaching those lessons.