Cowboy or cowgirl up

I had a friend who passed away a while back, and as far as I know I never met her. We met on the internet and the phone line, so to speak. Mick, my brother, had met her and been around her several times, so he knew her personally. We talked about her many times.

I knew her parents back when I was a kid. Mom and Dad, when they first got married, lived up north of Lakeside, Nebraska, for something like 10 to 15 years so they shopped in Alliance, Nebraska. When they moved down by Arthur, Nebraska, Mom got pregnant, and Mick and I came along. I’d probably say we were mistakes. My older sister was 16 when I was born. and my younger sister was 13. Mom and Dad had a bunch of friends in Alliance. so every now and then we’d go visit. It was about 90 miles to Alliance from Arthur.

About every time we went up to visit. we’d go out in the country and visit a family on their farm. Mick and I were little. so I don’t remember a lot about them except we enjoyed going and visiting. It was fun. There were three girls and two boys in the family. My texting friend was one of the girls. She grew up a tomboy. who was forever wanting to best her older brother. From roping to bronc riding to whatever, she was the real deal.

She loved horses. and she could rope and drag calves to the branding fire with the best of cowboys. She rode a big buckskin called Handy and used him running barrels and heeling steers. She seemed to take pleasure in rodeoing with the guys. She told about being kicked and bucked off more than once or twice. One story that was told about her was when Red. her horse. bucked her off. When Red bucked her off, she admitted she lost her hearing aids and false teeth. Red must have enjoyed bucking her off. He did it on a regular basis.

For the past several years we’ve talked, on the internet and telephone, about horses and Wes Feusner saddles and garlic and gardening and buffaloes and cooking and picking chokecherries and strawberries and even about an old “juice harp". I had some tomato seeds I thought would grow good up in the Sandhills, so I sent her some tomato seed. Packaged up some garlic and sent her some garlic. We talked about planting some of the garlic cloves and using some to eat and can. She was 87. I believe. at that time.

My friend was the exception in many ways and yet she wasn’t. She chose to work with horses and cattle and outdoor tasks. and she was as good as they come. But other women have chosen this same path. Several come to mind. These women had that inner spirit that just kept on when stopping would have been far easier.

I’ve met quite a few in my life that had that same never quit attitude. Many of the older women in the Sandhills fit this mold — living 30 to 40 to 50 miles from a town of any size where your closest neighbor was miles from you. Marge’s Mom and my Mom fit this mold. But I have friends down here in Missouri who fit that mold. Women who have put family and friends first. Women who can take a few ingredients and leftovers and turn it into an awesome meal. Women who have worn out a Bible or two or who know how to pray and talk to God. Women who knew how to take a willow branch and warm up the hind end of a bratty child even if it was the neighbors.

We all know women like the ones I’ve been describing. Many have gone on to heaven, but there are a few left here. They deserve a kind word, maybe a phone call, maybe a visit, maybe a hug, maybe a handwritten letter or an old-fashioned card like we used to buy at the “dime store”. They deserve some of our time. Not your money but your time!

Phillips began life as a cowboy, then husband and father, carpenter, a minister, gardener and writer. He may be reached at phillipsrb@hotmail.com.