A cowgirl photographer in Colorado asked me to do a forward for her new book about the hometown rodeo. Another writer had recommended me, so when I saw the sincerity in her manuscript; I could hardly hold back.
She wrote me notes on past rodeos. How they started years before having horse races on Main Street for their annual event; so I started there. Lots of old timers could recall those horse races and hear the thundering hooves pounding the ground, but when black top replaced dirt there was no surface to race on. So, they built grandstands and began having rodeos.
I told about a youngster who lived way off on a ranch and was going to a rodeo. How they had to get up early and butcher some free range broilers… remember what the hot water smelled like?
When I married my wife and she was home from work one day, my partner and I were working on a sawmill. When we came in for lunch, she got a couple of those free range young roosters, dressed and fried them. Now tell me how many young women today could do that. Most wouldn’t even know how to cut up a chicken. In the 1960s Tyson did a survey and found most housewives then didn’t even have a knife sharp enough to do the job if they tackled it. Tyson found they could make a profit by cutting the chicken up, adding a charge and it was a big hit.
I told how their momma fried them in lard from a hog they had butchered. Most kids and grown ones worked so hard back then, they burned up the calories and lard was no threat to them. She also saved the liver and gizzards for another meal and did it all in her sink. Then they put it and the trimmings in a picnic basket and took them along for two meals one at noon and in the evening.
One girl helping me edit the book asked if the chicken was cold, wasn’t it? When I was a boy on those adventures we didn’t have ice – she shook her head in disbelief that we didn’t die. The birds were eaten inside of ten hours and none of us were ever sick. But when you went to the rodeo someone had to stay at home. Farming then was a seven day a week job and they had cows to milk, eggs to gather and chores. That was the short straw drawing person in the family old enough to handle that work.
There were no McDonalds in those days. Buying the gas, purchasing gate tickets was expensive enough. I can recall asking mom for money at the rodeos and she said she didn’t have a money tree in the backyard.
I know we’d drank Kool-Aid. My mom thought folks who drank bottled pop were spend thrifts. Why for a few cents she could make a big jug of sweet drink for all of us. I bet you can recall events similar in your life. Till next time may the good Lord bless you.
Western novelist Dusty Richards and his wife Pat live on Beaver Lake in northwest Arkansas. For more information about his books you can email Dusty by visiting ozarksfn.com and clicking on ‘Contact Us’ or call 1-866-532-1960.
