The American Spectator

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Tall in the Saddle

6.4.07 @ 12:01AM

COWGIRLS
Re: Larry Thornberry's The Cowboy Way:

Well, now I don't know if Mr. Thornberry is a cowboy or just knows enough to write a great piece about them. Coming from a long line of cowboy cattle ranchers I can attest to his accuracy. I call my father, David Foster, the last of the great cowboys. He will turn 88 this August. Just a few weeks ago we worked cattle and he was still able to get into the chute to castrate the little bulls. At 85 he broke a hip working the cattle, so we just allow him this one activity, and the right to boss the rest of us around.

The spartan life of the cowboy was certainly his. At age nine he and his older sister (who worked her last cattle roundup at 85) were placed out on a homestead in South Texas. Their father had several ranches and it took all seven children to work his land and leased land. My Dad remembers being left with his 12 year old sister and a small amount of grub. They had to use it sparingly because it would be three weeks or more before their father returned. He said that most times they ran out then shot anything that moved in order to eat. He could speak to the taste of rattlesnake well. He didn't like it.

The lives we live now are far removed from those days of hardship. And, I believe, that is most of our problem in this country. When you can hold convenience in your hands, seldom do you understand the clear thinking that comes with hard work, the necessity of being inventive, and what doing without really means. Today, folks define inconvenience as missing their latte.

I believe our President needs a break back at his ranch. He needs to grub brush, work cattle, build a fence, and just do some plain hard labor. He did a lot of that his first years in office. I believe those trips kept him able to make clearer decisions. I also believe that if this fine man took a trip to Crawford and did some cowboy work we wouldn't be talking about stupid amnesty legislation because he could clear his heart and mind. Ranching does that for you.

Cowboys, the last great legacy of the American West. Couldn't be a great compliment given a man, to this rancher's mind. Give me a cowboy any day over a Washington politician. You can count on one of them to do the right thing at all times.
-- Bev Gunn
East Texas Rancher Proud mother of serving Pilot

Many of my "personal" heroes were "cowboys" and "mavericks" and the boots they wore weren't some gazillion dollar fake copy of real boots that got real "dirt" and other stuff on them. They were not pretenders and Hollywood actors. They had hands of leather that could rope and tie, and also hold and hug.

My heroes didn't always ride ponies and horses, but they relied first on themselves and family, and then on neighbors and friends. Distrusted strangers till they had proven themselves to be friends and taught that the sweat of your brow and the strength of your back were more important most times than what was inside the "mush for brains." Personal honor is important, your word is bond, and you know that the word "integrity" means that you "hold true to your word," even when it is like being on the "gritty" side of the millstones.

Life is not simple, and many a Hollywood version of the truth is too clean and simple. Life is not like that. Maybe the insult intended is to call someone a "Hollywood Cowboy" but many of them once were "real" once.

Nope, the "cowboys" I knew were men, and a few women, that were neither uneducated nor unlettered. That knew work was hard, and you had to keep after it. The way was long, but you kept on the trail. There were shortcuts, you could risk, but you risked all for a few moments. That the "pay-off" was never as good as promised. You celebrated with your friends, pooled your resources and started up all over again the next day from scratch.

At times, "people" and cattle are a lot alike -- sometimes. Other times, the cow is smarter. Hazards abound and you have to be sharp to see them, before they get you. You take care of the tools of your livelihood as if your life depended upon them, it does. And you take care of each other as if you life depended upon them -- it does. "A light in the window" is an invite to a stranger. And it is not an insult to be asked "What you up to?"

There are worse ways of life. And many an over educated fool "feels" not only is their life in an Ivory Tower, far away from the "grit" of daily labor, the best, but it is also "the only way." So tell me, how do books grow vegetables and writings put a roof over your head? How can one of these "elitists" expect to "take care of others" when they are naught but helpless and dependent upon the work, labor and efforts of "others"?

Lead? They can't find their way out of the parking lot to the road out of the city to where they can meet "real people" without some imported gizmo to tell them "where to go."
-- Sandra Dent

YeeeeeeHaaaaaw and Amen to Mr. Thornberry's column. My Great Grandfather and Grandmother were some of the first "white people" in the Colorado Territory. What tales have been handed down in our family about the Cowboy Way. I was privileged to hear them from actual participants in this part of American History at a young age. Those who sit in Starbucks opining about life, politics and their own navels will never understand the code of the West. There are still enough descendants of these pioneers and cowboys who know from whence they came. There is still something magical about the wide-open spaces, which also reinforces the "all things are possible" can-do spirit that is alive and well out here. Too many closed minds sit in the swamp of D.C., as well as the Starbucks perched around each and every college and university. I recommend they go West young men and women to observe the openness of the West. Thanks for the wonderful column.
-- Edda Gahm
Diamond Bar, California

Larry Thornberry's defense of cowboys and explanation of Bush detractors thinking this is a derogatory term was interesting and a point well made. I trust punching "doggies" was a mere slip of the keyboard. A doggie is your canine pal. A stray calf is a dogie (one "g" and long "o") -- "Git along, little dogies, git along, git along ...we're headin' for the la-ast round-up." went the cowboy's lament.

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