What is it that makes a cowboy a cowboy? What makes the West the West? Why do folks from all over the world want to see a cowboy ride a bull, bronc or rope a steer at the Oakley Rodeo?
Maybe visit the Bolt storefront to buy a new snap front shirt, a silk scarf, a pair of Ariat boots and a new Atwood palm leaf cowboy hat? Maybe even a a nice silk scarf to match. Realizing that the trappings may only be worn that special night in an arena full of like-minded folks.
Maybe it’s worth it to step out of your comfort zone to be part of a tradition and event that has been around for 96 years. An event that is entirely supported by volunteers from that same little town nestled up against the Wasatch Mountains to the east.
Sitting in those stands shoulder to shoulder watching the rodeo queen and her entourage riding around the arena on their stout quarter horses proudly displaying the American flag waving in the crisp mountain air.
If the display of your flag flapping in the wind with the backdrop of the those mountains doesn’t make your heart swell and maybe a tear, as well, I feel sorry for you. Why? Because that is your flag, you are part of it. and it is part of you. Even though attempts may be made to take it away from you and what it stands for. What it means to you is not up for grabs.
Maybe you are not a real cowboy, but then again maybe you are. It’s more than the trappings or even if you travel from rodeo to rodeo during all the Fourth of July celebrations to demonstrate your craft. Maybe you are not destined to compete for that PRCA all-around cowboy title.
You may never have even ridden a horse, but you still love to see that herd stampeding across the pasture on your way up the canyon with a few deer grazing by their side.
Maybe you are really not that tough. Maybe you feel a little out of place. Maybe you wish you would have grown up in the country closer to the land. However, when that little boy and girl pass you in Ken’s Kash, they believe you are the real deal. You can see it in their eyes. It doesn’t matter if it’s only for one night hooting and cheering, rising out of your seat in sheer joy.
When the queen and her entourage pull up next to each other and the arena becomes silent. You feel the energy and anticipation down to the tips of your new boots. You also feel a chill through your body that you think you should hide.
But that chill through your bones is not only something experienced by you. Even the real cowboy standing by the chutes, waiting impatiently to mount that the raging bull next him, feels it as well. It’s really shared by all in the arena that evening as the sparse clouds slowly pass overhead.
As you rise and stand for the young girl singing the national anthem with your barely worn cowboy hat held across your chest, you realize that you are the real deal, if only for one night.
Being a cowboy is not about being tough. It’s not about riding a bronc on that special evening. It’s not about whether you own a F350 one-ton truck with a healer riding by your side. It’s not about if you have strung a barbed wire fence.
It is all about how you feel deep down when the flag waves in the wind and the anthem is sung.
Ninety-six years is a long time. The cowboy life really only lasted until the late 1880s, when beef was herded across the West. However, the Mexican vaquero existed before and after that time, and those skills are still prevalent today.
Maybe you don’t see it, but when I look across that arena and watch the bullfighters herd the agitated bull back in the chutes wearing those old red Dodge truck chaps, I still see a couple of young cowboys named Dutch and Ken brothers giving that bull rider an easy off to celebrate his ride. They are longtime homegrown legends in their own right.
Maybe the new bull riders’ names are different while carrying on a tradition. But they too feel that chill though their bones and maybe share a tear or too as well when that flag flutters in the wind.
We are all cowboys at heart because it’s not about how we look, how we dress, how tough we are, how we ride that pony. It’s about how we feel deep down, the feeling you think you should hide. It’s really our heritage even if we didn’t earn it. It’s up to us to carry it on for another 96 years.
That’s the cowboy code: honesty, integrity, and respect for each other. Stand up for the flag and the country it stands for, especially when the you feel that chill through your bones. You too are the real deal.
Be proud of it, don’t hide it but share it with like minded folks by your side at the Oakley Rodeo every year. It’s a tradition worth keeping and sharing. Like that little boy asked his mom in Ken’s Kash store: Was that a real cowboy that held the door open for us? Yes it was, honey.
Gary “Goog” Beroset is an Oakley resident.