Storm clouds were rolling in as I toodled along in Lil' Buddy at the whopping speed of 45 miles per hour. It was a perfect setting for the day with just enough cloud cover to make the drive comfortable. The threat of rain was not due until later in the day. I crossed my fingers the weather would behave long enough for the Valley Lodge Trail Riders to make it to their destination - a rest stop at my church, Addicks United Methodist Church on Highway 6 in Houston.
The Valley Lodge Trail Riders were mentioned in a magazine article I read a few weeks ago. It indicated they were a pretty venerable band of horse riders, wagons and buck-boards. I know one of the trail bosses and another of the riders as they are both members of my church. My job was to photograph the event for the web site I run for our district churches. So, with the camera ready, I 'saddled up' Lil' Buddy and headed for Addicks.
Upon arriving, I parked the car next to our ancient little church and waited. I was pretty excited because I have never witnessed anything like this up close and personal. It wasn't long before the police escort for the group arrived. Traffic at the intersection was blocked off. I could see the mounted police enter the street at the intersection down the road, next came the trail bosses, then the street was flooded with cowboys and cowgirls on horseback. It was amazing. They continued to merge onto the roadway as if the stream of riders and wagons had no end. They rolled into the parking lot and filled it. Once the parking area was full the rest had to park on the roadway. Two adorable, fuzzy black donkeys passed me and looked directly at the camera as if they were saying, "Hey, take our picture."
Addicks UMC was merely a brief resting place on the trail before they moved on to the park where they would set up camp in preparation for the rodeo. A rope had been strung between two utility poles flanking the parking lot. One by one horses were clipped to this line until it was loaded with horses resting side by side. People came from miles around to pet the horses, donkeys and mules. A little girl in a stroller was awe struck as a clutch of riders gathered around her to say hello. Two young mothers brought their toddlers to see the animals. The babies' eyes were wide with wonder as they touched the soft muzzles of these gentle giants. Little ones of all ages were dressed in western gear as if they were miniature gun slingers and rodeo kings and queens. One trail boss was gracious enough to put a couple of toddlers up in the saddle of his massive steed for a photo op.
People of all walks in life were represented in the Valley Lodge Trail Riders. Bankers, doctors and lawyers blended in seamlessly with true cowboys and farm folk. Their stock uniforms of denim and western style shirts, boots and hats made it impossible to tell who did what in their daily life. It was as if an army descended upon us, orchestrated to the minute with details that made this move along like a well oiled machine. They were in and out in twenty minutes. When break time was over, whistles called out to the ranks to mount up. The girls carrying the flag banners of the Valley Lodge Riders pulled out front and center. Off they went, headed for the rodeo.
In case you are not familiar with Houston, the Livestock Show and Rodeo takes over the whole city for more than a month. Schools even take children on field trips to attend it. The primary purpose of the rodeo is to net money for education, and a section of the complex is set up for children to learn about livestock of all types. You can witness baby chickens hatch and calves are born before your very eyes. There is a petting zoo, and you can walk among the cattle, sheep and goats being shown for prizes. The rodeo is also known for its food and festivities. In another arena you can watch riders qualify for the barrel racing competition, roping events and a host of cowboy related activities.
You'd have to be living under a rock in the desert not to know Rodeo is in town. The excitement of the rodeo is contagious. (Rodeo fever turns visitors from Cincinnati into Texans. However, you can tell by their accent they 'ain't' one of us.) I find myself gravitating to it every year. I haven't been on a horse in ages, and I certainly don't live on a ranch. In fact, the day I attend rodeo is the one day out of the year I purposely put on a pair of blue jeans. And no, I don't own a pair of western boots. Yup, you guessed it...my boots have high heels and buttons up the side like a pair of Victorian strolling boots.
Texans are a particularly different breed of people and our love of "all things Texan" is infectious. We spread it to each other, slather it over visitors and wear anything shaped like our state as a badge of honor. You can go into any souvenir shop with a display of solid black refrigerator magnets in the shape of Texas, no print, no color, no nothing, and not even someone from France will ask, "Is that Michigan or Colorado?" It's Texas - the world just knows!
We are such a conceited lot. We know we are the biggest of the central forty-eight states. We know you can travel our state border and see countryside that rivals any other state. We are spoiled to our massive highway system. Where people in other states think driving for a few hours is a major trip to another state, we do it to drive across town or to a nearby city to eat dinner. Dessert is another half hour away. We are also very conscious of the fact that we were once a stand-alone sovereign nation before a handful of no-goodnicks decided to join the United States. Hence the reason the Texas flag is allowed to fly at the same staff height as the United States flag. Let me tell you, joining the states was a big fight. Read the history books. We were also the last to give in over the Civil War. Our classic response to the phrase "the South lost the Civil War" is "WE DID?" We're a scrappy bunch, and we are proud of it. Stubborn, but friendly. Cocky, yet willing to stop on the side of the road and help strangers.
So, once a year I put on my Texas twang and head for the rodeo. Oops, correction. That Texas twang in my voice is there every day. About ten years ago I was on a subway in New York City and an elderly lady leaned forward, tapped my knee and asked if I was from Texas. I answered with the question, "Weeellll, how on er-uth could you tay-ell?" Say it a couple o' times ree-ul fast an' you'll 'git' the picture.
While the rodeo was a blast, I had more fun mingling with the cowboys and cowgirls of the Valley Lodge Trail Riders on the grounds of Addicks United Methodist Church. For a few minutes it was as if time stood still, and I was transported to another era.
Dear Santa, May I have a cowboy for Christmas? I promise I'll be good. Wait, let me think on that. The being good part, I mean. After all, a cowboy is involved.
