Tuesday, July 24, 2007

My whole life, the story went like this...

I was born July 21st, which is during the Days of '47 Rodeo. My dad was the chairman of this rodeo for two years and on the committee for many others. The story goes that my mom and I had to wait at the hospital until after the 24th of July(Pioneer Day) so my dad could ride in the parade. All this time I thought that it was because he was in charge, the chairman.
Last week, the Pioneer Days Committee was honoring past chairs and queens (yes, lots of big hats and hair) and I went with my dad to the dinner before the rodeo. Each chair has a stone on a wall with the year(s) they were in charge. Imagine my astonishment when the years listed for my dad were NOT the year I was born. I asked him about it, he said he was on the committee that year and HAD to be in the parade. This is going to take years of therapy to work out! My dad is the one not wearing a hat or huge buckle.

We stayed for a bit of the rodeo. It brought back so many memories. I went every year until I was 15 and have gone a couple of times since. I remember being with my little brother and walking around all the pens with animals. Then hearing the clanging of the broncos that were about to get ridden. Watching these cowboys strutting around, watching the rodeo queens with bright pink lipstick on. Yeah, it sounds hokey, but as a child it was so fun to pretend to be the cowgirl, wanting to be one of the little girls that rode around the barrels, never the one in turquoise wranglers and rhinestones though. Dirt, manure, cotton candy. This year I just watched and thought "Why would you ever subject your body to such pain and jerking?" Their brains must be bounced back and forth like a ping pong ball in their skulls. And I have always hated knowing that the reasons the horses were bucking like that was because they are uncomfortable and pissed. My favorite part was always when the parachuters would come flying down from their plane. This time, there were three. The first had a trail of smoke after him. The second one had our state flag attached to his body and right when he landed, grabbed it up so it wouldn't touch the ground. The third jumper had the flag of the United States of America. It was huge and beautiful trailing behind this person. Everyone stood up. I always get choked up when this type of situation happens, especially when we sing the national anthem. In any case, what this flag represents makes me proud to live where I do.

4 comments:

Through the Looking Glass said...

I always loved your dad- he was so quiet but funny and sarcastic. What great memories-it takes July for me to really sit back and think about how great the American experience is and how beautiful patriotism can be. I love funnel cake at rodeos!

Paige said...

Funnel cake? Yum..Love it. I had no idea our birthdays were so close. We should have had a joint birthday at the bubble that day. Are you a cancer? Or on the cusp? I always get teary during the national anthem, especially at baseball games. I just feel sad that I get to be watching a game and other people are fighting a war...

At Whit's End said...

Mands, I don't remember the funnel cake (unless you are talking about women's hair) but loved the slushees.
Paige, We'll have a joint party next year at the bubble. We can dress in pirate swimming suits.

Josie said...

Oh Jeez, I'm such a jerk. Every July I try and remember if your b-day is on the 13th or the 31st....looks like I was way off and missed it again. I hope it was AWES. Your dad being on the rodeo committee??? What the?