The Children’s Passage

Written
2010

 Comes that time of year when

         the hay is cut and stacked

         and the aspens have yet to turn yellow gold.

Then it is Roundup time.

I suppose out there on the ranches

         cattle were rounded up, branded and

         some subjected to loss of gender identity.

But in my hometown, Roundup

         was an urban event.

It was the time to parade the

         cowman alter ego.

Time for once–a-year clothes and Stetsons.

The banker in snakeskin Tony Llamas

         took to heels about the way a 15 year-old

         princess did to high heels

         for the junior prom.

His gabardine Gene Autry suit

         came out of the closet

         the same size it went in.

But banker hours and business lunches

         changed the September cowboy

         and made the waist

         more than a bit tight.

The white Stetson, always white,

          covers a balding head,

         one more gift from a generous father.

Silver and turquoise bolos

         on a hand-embroidered silk shirt

         made the costume complete.

The big palomino gelding he rides

         looks like a fence-breaking romance

         between a Morgan and an Arabian.

He carries himself as proud as an Arabian

          and he is necessarily as strong

         and patient as a Morgan.

As always the once-a-year cowboy

         leads the parade

         followed by a flat bed truck,

         a stage for the Frisco Canyon Ramblers

         playing long-remembered melodies.

Three high school bands follow this,

         the 4-H float and

         the vets marching in old ill-fitting uniforms.

It is a short parade and

         fathers fool their children by

         moving down a block to view

         the passing parade a second time.

Few memories are as clear to me

         as this annual event.

The parade is over and

         the real cow people come stage front.

They ride, rope and tackle

         as the crowd cheers.

Western adulthood is celebrated

         by men in the arena

         and barrel-riding ladies.

Off in the green and white world

         of the exhibition barns

         children become adults

         through the toughest

         of initiating ceremonies.

Each cow is a pet, each pig has a name

          and each goat is a long-time shadow.

Blue and red ribbons hang

         from the stall slats.

Then  green and whites lead

          their friends

         to the auction ring where friendly

         butchers bid too much

          for prize stock.

Green-and white-kids become ranchers

         when no tear is shed.

And no watching parent has forgotten

         when they too had to become ranchers

         this way so long ago.

 

Doug Minnis

May 3, 2010

         

Notes
The very thought of the round up brings back so many memories of Trinidad and the season for make believe. Never forget Don Anderson, my step brother,staring frijole beans with a spade or my father guessing the weight of a steer with such accuracy that the green and white kids stared in admiration.