Thanks, Really!

Flirtatious:"Dad, will you please buy me that Bronco hat?"

Real Mood: Just Delighted

Prediction: A "Tart" working the Stock Show this week will finally come up with a down payment for that little spread she's been wanting to settle down on in Nevada.

Had a brief visit from my Niece Donna, her husband Matt and the girls.  I have some immensely proud things I can utter about Donna and Matt.  When I get the right combination of words together some day, I'll do just that.

But today I'm going to focus on the girls and what they bring into a "mature" person's life, if only for a day.

It is so refreshing to hear honesty all day long. Sure there is politicking going on, but it's way out front.  There is no squirming, no hiding a position.  When one of the girls is hungry? 

"Hey, I'm hungry. Let's stop and eat now."

You don't have to wait until somebody's tummy starts growling. No throat clearing, no scheming. It's time to eat.

Oh, the pure search for knowledge and understanding.

"Will those birds come up and sit on my hand? Is that a pet rabbit? Where does it live?"

"Mom, can I have the camera quick?  I want to take a picture of the geese. "

"Can I sit in the helicopter?"

"What's a BLOG?"

"Can we go to the zoo, please?"

"I'm hungry. Can we eat now?"

"I have to pee!"

Oh, wait a minute.  I think that's a quote from Matt.  Oh, the pace.  The running, the chattering, the passion to absorb everything around them.  What a delight.    And the secret communication.  The nod of a head, a pinch, a gentle punch on the arm. Ten group decisions made in seconds. The rest of us would still be forming a committee to study the veracity of the point  that needs to be deliberated on before we proceed to the broader issue.

What's happened to us? Why aren't we getting that much out of life? Why aren't we living like that every day? Oh, do I envy what must be the most peaceful sleep on the planet.  When those heads hit the pillow, the day's complications are over. The learning has taken place. The arguments have been settled. The basic human needs have been met. Why do we ever give that up?

When I was giving Donna and Matt my imposing and mandatory tour, they expressed amazement at the number of cops out on the highways.

I scratch my head a minute and then it hits  me.

This is an interesting time for this metropolitan area.  It's a throwback to the days when the trappers and native Americans would gather in the winter and swap stories and goods. Well, now we call it the Stock Show. 

Cops on highways? Stock show?  Well you know it's kind of interesting to see Mercedes and Cadillac SUV's mix in with horse trailers and pick 'em up trucks.  The blend isn't natural.  And there can be some real language barrier issues out there on the highway.

And, lets face it.  History does repeat itself.  Some of the BillyBobs coming to town want to sow their "wild oats." (For the younger of you who might read this, "Wild Oats" are not a new high fiber cereal.  Ask your folks.)

I have no false belief that I can help anybody by telling you this part of the Stock Show story. This will never change.

"Cowboys coming to town?  Girls let's make hay. And I'm not talking straw."

If there is any meeting space left in town they could easily hold a Hooker's convention.  Their subtle ads are in every newspaper.  They make their way here from all all parts of the country. For the next two weeks?  "Big Money" for the world's oldest profession.

I doubt I'm performing a public service by telling you this.  You'll see it on somebody's TV news this coming week anyway.  All those ads in the paper? Some of the ads are written by the Vice Bureau at the local P.D.  There is always a token crack down during the Stock Show.  You'll be playing the odds.  And, in case you haven't heard, some jurisdictions do print the pictures of the BillyBobs (AKA Johns)  and offer them to newspapers.  Sure hate to see your picture show up in the Wichita Eagle Beacon, or the Hugoton Hermes. But it's going to happen to somebody.

Okay, girls. You can uncover your eyes now

You may have heard me spout off about media contributions to urban legends. This week some anchor or reporter or, God Forbid", weather anchor will shout out, "can you believe this weather during the Stock Show? 60 degrees? We're supposed to have two feet of  snow on the ground with blizzard conditions."

True, it's been that way a few times in history. But a search of weather history will tell you the truth is somewhere in between. If nothing else, January is not a big snow month around here. 

Matt and Donna have talked about moving here someday. I wouldn't want them to think they couldn't get to the Stock Show because of the weather.

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