There's A Little Rodeo In All Of Us.

It began one evening as Husband and I were riding over to the F Bar Arena, my first in-depth rodeo experience.

I'd known that his family had horses growing up. They mentioned one or the other of them, every now and then. I knew that they'd lived on an acreage out in the countryside. So on the way over to the F Bar, I questioned him. Types of horses? Quarter horse. Paint. Arabian, etc. He knew so much. Then it comes out that his father actually raised horses....to race...at Les Bois Park! This was no little hobby; he'd done it to supplement the family income for years.

I looked over at my husband sitting behind the wheel of our pickup with new eyes, the man I'd known (or thought I had) for a long time. Nowadays he didn't seem like the country boy that he once must have been. Button up dress shirts, woolen pants and dress shoes was his usual attire. When I look at him, I see the businessman that he is. I didn't see....a cowboy! But I was seeing one now.

"What?" he said, noticing the look, "I told you that we grew up around horses..."

He further impressed me at the arena. As we were sitting there, he talked all about the various techniques of training horses, differing styles, and when you should 'let the horse have the reins', versus trying to control its every move. It was nothing short of fascinating to listen to. All the while I was chastising myself for having had such 'horse' knowledge under my own roof, and not knowing it. I'd been interviewing several different people about the country-western way of life; when I should have been interviewing him, my own Mr. Larson.

The next family gathering brought more insight, this time with my in-laws. When they realized that I was blogging for the Snake River Stampede, all sorts of random items came tumbling from them.

"I used to barrel race!" My sister in law suddenly revealed. I knew her as the health-conscious, use-the-hand-sanitizer-before-you-touch-that-food, work-out daily, soccer-mom type. She...barrel raced? Really?

"Yeah," she laughed, "It was a good deal for me, because the horse was a 'hand-me-down'. My older sisters had ridden it, too. So by the time it got to me, it knew exactly how to do the barrels. All I had to do was ride it."

My head was spinning a little as I made the mental adjustment. Then her husband threw in, "Yeah, I grew up riding horses, too." Another little mental adjustment. Huh. Then they both said that they really missed it, and wished they could have that for their kids. I'd thought they were happy as could be in their subdivision with their fenced yard. I hadn't ever pictured them wishing for a country lifestyle, had circumstances been a bit different. Huh.

Then my father-in-law, the man I call 'Padre', walked into the room and added this little ditty:

"The kids' mom was competing for the rodeo queen, up there over in Utah. I was up there rodeo-ing, too, helping them out, doin' some clowning and such. She was out there on her horse, doing her thing, and the crowd was loving her. Her horse got a little spooked at all the applause and suddenly she was in trouble. So I went out there and helped her out. You know, a damsel in distress and all."

He then admitted to 'accidentally' running into her in town a couple of days later, and at that time he'd asked her out. Several years and six kids later, the rest is history.

"Oh, yeah, and I know that Shawn Davis that you wrote about, too, with the National Finals Rodeo..."

"You DO?" I asked.

"Oh, sure. I used to be in a few rodeos with him, years ago. I don't know him well, but I know him."

"What events did you do?" I asked.

"Oh, shoot...I did a little roping. And some bull-dogging...."

My father in law was a bull-dogger. This was too much.

I looked around me at the roomful of people that I'd been around for years. Family picnics, hikes, soccer games, weddings. Not once had this sort of thing come up. No references to rodeo whatsoever. Yet here, on my sofa, sat a barrel racer, a horseman, and a...bull-dogger. No kidding.



Later in the week, I visited with Brandon Hunt, one of the other bloggers for the Stampede. He is also a 'newbie' when it comes to the rodeo. His approach has been to research everything he can get his hands on about the subject. He told me he's checked out a multitude of books from the library on the history of the Snake River Stampede, and all things rodeo-related.

"It was interesting to me, while I was doing all of that reading," Brandon said,"That I got so much more than just rodeo knowledge out of it. There was a ton of history...ninety-five years worth...that got injected into the study of it all."

He went on,"For example...in reading about the rodeo, I read about how one year, back in the eighties, there was a goal for the Boy Scouts to take several hundred scouts to the rodeo in Boundary Country. They raised enough money to be able to do this; quite the feat. I was mentioning the story to my older brother, and he blurted out, 'Oh yeah, I went to that.' !"

Brandon had been very surprised. Here was an event that was a big deal, back in the day, he was reading about it in a historical publication, and his own brother had participated.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Brandon asked. His brother had replied that he had been eight at the time, it was a long time ago, and he'd forgotten all about it. He also told Brandon that it was the only rodeo he'd ever attended.

From this conversation, we two bloggers were beginning to get the idea that there is a little bit of 'country', and maybe even a little bit of 'rodeo' in just about everyone.

Just a couple of days later, my case was made complete. I was talking to my older sister. The one who never liked anything that was very country. When we were younger and a country song would come on the radio, she'd quickly turn the station, making gagging noises all the while. "Country. Blecchhh." she'd always say. Being young and impressionable, I'd followed her lead and had listened to anything but country music.

But luckily, I'd snapped out of it. A few friends and neighbors had influenced me over the years, and country music is now a part of this girl. However, I'd kept my show of appreciation for it rather subtle around Big Sister, knowing of the guff she'd give me if she knew just how much I liked it. I was talking about this the other day in front of my children, who've spent a lot of time with their aunt, and they said something I wasn't expecting.

"She listens to that stuff all the time!" they told me.

"MY sister? Listens to...country music? The one that never let me listen to it when we were teenagers? Are you kidding me?"

They assured me that this was the case. Doubting, I had to get it 'straight from the horse's mouth.' When I saw her next, we were seated at the Northwest Motorfest in the bleachers, getting ready to watch her husband do the hole shot competition in his shiny red Camaro. The motors were revving in the cars that were lined up, and it was nearly deafening.

Big Sister turned to me and said, "So, what's this business about writing for the rodeo? You're not very country," she reminded me, as if I needed reminding.

"When I first read your stuff, I doubted it was even you writing it. None of that country stuff sounded like you," she said. I explained to her what I was doing, writing not from a position of knowledge, but quite the opposite.

We talked about our Idaho country beginnings; the culture shock that had occurred with moving from 'back East', as we called it, to 'out West'.

And then I dropped the bomb.


"You never let me listen to any country music on the radio, remember? You'd change the station every time. And now the kids tell me that you're a big country music listener! What gives?"

She looked right at me with no apologies and blurted out four words I'll never forget for as long as I live:

"I just love Shania."



As I sat there with my mouth open, the cars took off on the hole shots, and it was too noisy for any further discussion. A few minutes later, however, she added this tidbit:

"I've always loved Shania. And I'm crazy about Keith Urban."

We both agreed that Keith Urban's music was a lot of fun; and we both agreed to the fact that let's face it, the man has fabulous highlights.



What I'm trying to say here is this...You just never know.



I'll bet there's a little bit of country, and a little bit of rodeo in you, too. Feed it with a trip to the Snake River Stampede this year.

http://www.snakeriverstampede.com/



Copyright (c) Amy Larson 2010. All Rights Reserved.