A couple weeks ago I went to my very first rodeo. Thoughts:
1. Advertising by horseback. Every half hour or so a girl on horseback would dash around the arena with a sponsor's logo on a flag. I found this amusing. I think they were the rodeo queens/royalty/whatever too, so I wondered if they felt like sellouts or if they just enjoyed the chance to ride. I know I'd like a chance to ride a horse, ad flag or no!
2. Um, I'd like to marry a cowboy. Not only because there were some good-looking ones out in the arena, but because I sat next to this ranching family, and the cowboy husband sat next to me and told me about the events going on, how they're scored, etc, which I really appreciated. Even more impressive, though, was that his four-year-old daughter began whining less than halfway through the rodeo that she wanted to go home NOW, and instead of scolding her to be quiet, he kept her on his lap, pointing at the rodeo clowns or the horses or the motorcycle show, keeping her distracted, as patient as can be. I was amazed. I'd marry a man like that in a heartbeat.
3. Someday I'd like to own a horse. Not that I've always adored horses like many girls in my generation; I only watched "My Little Pony" once or twice growing up (when the Disney channel would broadcast for free for a week or two, soliciting subscriptions—remember that?). It's never been the horses themselves that I'm interested in necessarily, it's the idea of riding. That romantic vision of man and horse moving seamlessly together across the sward to the rhythmn of hoofbeat and heartbeat. I've been horseback riding a few times and loved it, though of course I've never been much over a trot. I'm fascinated by how much there is to learn about riding, both the skills and the less tangible techniques of attuning yourself to the horse. I would love to have it said of me that I can seat a horse well. Anyway, watching the rodeo reminded me of this whole other world that I've wanted to be a part of for a long time. I was slightly embarrassed to be a pansy city slicker among people to whom horses and bulls and sheep—and riding, wrangling, and herding—were as natural as breathing.
4. Hm, manure. We were sitting right over the bullpens the whole time, so I was reminded in the midst of my fantasizing that poo still stinks. I forgot about that part. So . . . someday I'd like someone close to me to own a horse and just let me ride it all the time . . . ?
The rodeo left me with a lot to think and dream about afterward. At the same time I was laughing at myself for watching it with fascinated, anthropological/folklore/mythological-oriented eyes when maybe it was a perfectly ordinary sports event to most of the people there.
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2 comments:
I'm surprised at how horrified I feel about these ranch-living-inclinations of yours. Still, if you married a man who was a rancher and if you lived in Texas, I would still come visit you. As long as you don't make me wear a cowboy hat or boots or chaps. Okay, maybe the chaps.
Of course, the alternative is that you marry a man who is a jockey. Or something in the horseracing business. And you have acres of forest and stables with a stablegirl. I could handle that.
Nah, it would have to be a cowboy. I'll take the casual, low-slung cowboy riding style over the fancypants/racing styles any day. Plus I don't think there are any jockeys tall enough for me. And I gotta have chaps!!
As a guest, you could wear whatever you wanted, of course. You always do! ;D
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