Rodeo Dad

My parents are amazing.  If I can ever say that I got lucky anywhere, it’s with whom God chose to be my parents. I believe that, even at my lowest point in life, my dad still saw my potential.  I think from day one, he believed I was going somewhere, or at least was going to be heard if I had something to say.  However, I think even my dad might have seen my limits when I was just a little thing.

When I was little, I wanted to be a cowgirl.  I wanted to be a REAL LIVE COWGIRL. I made sure everyone knew it.  Even my dentist knew I wanted to be a cowgirl. At one appointment, he offered me a whole cow girl suit if I would go live with him.  When we got to the car, I told my mom, “I just want you to know, when he told me I could have a cowgirl suit, I almost went with him."  I think, I was probably five or so at the time and looking back, it’s kind of creepy when your dentist offers you a cowgirl suit if you will go and live with him isn’t it? 

At any rate,  I was going to be a cowgirl. I even had a shirt. My favorite shirt, it was white with pearl snaps and pockets with blue ribbing.  It was beautiful, and it made me feel like I was a real cowgirl. 

Ya see, I once saw, somewhere, I don’t know where, a rodeo and I watched in amazement, the bull riders.  Yes, you guessed it, I wanted to be not just a cowgirl, but I wanted to be a bull rider. Then the little children that would come busting out of the gate on a sheep, a bucking bronco sheep and they were timed to see how long they could stay on, I asked my dad right then, can I be in the rodeo and ride the sheep?  My dad replied, “yes, when you are seven, you can be in the rodeo”. 

 I’m sure he was hoping in the next few years I would give up on my obsession and move on to something like Barbie dolls, but I did not. I wanted to be in the rodeo.  I still want to be in the rodeo.  My seventh birthday came and went, my  eighth birthday came and went, my ninth birthday came and went, and my....well my last birthday....came and went....  I never got to be the rodeo. I was a little heartbroken. My dream was shattered and the older I got, the more I realized I was NEVER going to be in the rodeo. Forever destined to be just a Rodeo Dreamer.  I blamed my dad, and I never let him forget the promise he made to let me be in the rodeo when I turned 7 and ride the sheep. 

 I thought for sure I was going to be the first woman in the Rodeo Bull Riding Hall of Fame.  But nope, instead, there was no rodeo. There was never going to be a rodeo. There never will be a rodeo for this girl. 

After having several years to really reflect on that dream that went unfilled, maybe my dad knew something I did not realize yet.  He saw something in me that kept him from following through on that promise, and there was no way he was going to be able to convince my young mind that he knew what was best for me. In fact, it just dawned on me in the last week or so what he knew that I did not.  I’m not safe standing in an empty room, let alone on the back of a 2000  pound bull.

My old memory does not go back much further than these early memories. I wonder when it was he saw what he was really dealing with here.  He probably saw something long before I was swinging on a metal swing set (ya know the ones the ones that are outlawed now for safety reasons) and it tipped over and fell on my head.  I’m sure hundreds of children swung on that swing set, but it was when I got on it, that it fell over and landed on my head and a nurse had to be rushed to our camp site to stop the bleeding

I'm sure it was before the day playing on a hay wagon at my grandparent's house with all my cousins, and I fell off and a stick stabbed me in the center, just above my forehead.  No one else fell off, no one else was impaled by a stick, and again they had to find something to stop the bleeding. My uncle ushering  my mother out of the room so she wouldn't faint after seeing blood pouring down my face. 

When did he really realize his daughter was a walking disaster and it probably was not going to get much better as time went on?

Long before I was the catcher for the little league summer girls’ softball team that I played the position of catcher. Now, in my defense,  I had watched all the other basemen clean off the base from the dirt every now and then and decided to clean off home plate. I bent down to pick it up like they had only to realize home plate is bolted to the ground.  Did that stop me?  No, I was going to clean home plate and yes, the game had to be delayed.  

Definitely long before the weekend he took us all up to Michigan to Powder Horn Mountain downhill skiing. One might ask my dad did you take her skiing that weekend?  Maybe he thought I had overcome my obstacles by then.   He paid for us to have a ski instructor teach us what we were doing before just letting us climb to the top of a hill and wing it.  That guy was a great instructor too! On the bunny hill I wasn’t just too bad of a skier even.  I went up that tow rope like a pro in no time and snow plowed down, slowly, carefully, and without falling.  If grades were given, I would have gotten an A+ on the bunny hill and then, the instructor said, “we are moving on to the next hill."  

To which I replied, “I’m quite comfortable here thanks, I think I’ll stay."

 It was not going to be heard of.  He was being paid to teach me to ski and he was going to follow through on that. So to the next hill we went. Chair lifts.  We both get on with no problems, but I don’t recall him ever telling me how exactly to get off the chair lift as we were going up. I do remember looking a long way down and it was probably the first time I realized I was afraid of heights.  We got to the top and the instructor got off the chair lift and I did nothing. I did nothing but cling for dear life to the side rail as the chair took me down to the bottom, crying like a fool scared to death. Now, I see my dad going up the other way (I don’t know that I really remember this correctly or not, but most likely) just bowing his head in shame.  I got off at the bottom of that chair lift so happy to be alive planning to just go back to the bunny hill and snow plow my way through the remainder of the day with as little adventure as possible. My plans were soon dashed as one of the men who had come with our group happened to be the chief of police of my home town. He said I was going back up that chair lift and being raised to respect authority, I wasn't telling him no. I was scared to go up the chair lift but more scared to say no to the chief of police. Back in line I was ushered and we both got on the chair and up we went again. As we went up he explained that when we get to the top, and I feel my skis on ground, I was to stand up.  The minute he saw I was not about to stand up he grabbed my arm and yanked me off the chair. I, of course, fell down.  Falling down with heavy clothing, big boots and skis is quite cumbersome and it took me awhile to figure out how to get up again. Just when I was about half way to standing, the next chair in line came to the top and hit me and knocked me back down.  I had to crawl to safety, CRAWL TO SAFETY before the next chair came and hit me again. No one wanted to say they were with me after watching me trying to crawl with all that ski garb on.  I do nothing gracefully.

My dad knew....he just knew....the rodeo could not be my future.

I can’t imagine the turmoil he went through when I turned 16 and was going to get my driver’s license.  I do believe this is the one and only time in my life, my dad wanted me to fail.  He wanted me to fail so badly that he made me take a suburban to the City Hall to take my driver’s test the morning of a blizzard, when there was a perfectly good station wagon, and an even better Monte Carlo in the driveway. I knew he wanted me to fail and well, I. DID. NOT. FAIL.  I passed that test with flying colors and I was proud.  But, I never got to drive the suburban again, I got to drive, the station wagon. I must say, even back in the 80’s it was not cool to drive a station wagon.  But I now know, dad knew there was a trait in me that would not make the rodeo a feasible dream to pursue.

 Like, for example, (and I’m not saying this happened or anything), but if by chance I was running late for work one morning at the part time job I had at the hair salon, and forgot to shut the front door to the house, he knew that IF I forgot to put the SUBURBAN into park as I pulled back up to the house to shut the front door, it would have done a lot more damage to the garage had I say been driving the station wagon.  He knew, there may have been a little more damage to the stuff inside the garage, if say, (and I’m not saying this happened or anything) I tried to stop the suburban by grabbing onto the trailer hitch instead of running to jump into the driver’s seat and stop the car. It would have been more than a curled up crinkled garage door, and whatever else was behind that door, IF that were to happen. 

 My dad is a  man who could see all possibilities of things that could happen. So, if I were given certain opportunities to follow my dreams of being the first female bull rider ever to be in the Rodeo Hall of Fame. He knew I would fail and he knew I might not live to be crushed by that failure.

Sadly, for my dad, it took me far too long to realize father really does know best.

If  only I had realized all this before I got my revenge and had him named FHA (Future Homemakers of America) Dad of the year. 

The end of the year banquet when parents and members sat down and watched as their children were presented with certain awards received through out the year. The President of the high school FHA club stood and said, “We would now like to recognize some very important people that have supported our organization, our FHA Dad’s.  Would you please stand as I call your name, Jim Smith”…… pause……. “Let’s give him a round of applause”. 

 My poor dad.

 I’m so sorry about that. Really I am so sorry about that. As all of us senior girls at the head table started to snicker and then could not contain our laughter any longer. Seeing all the other dad’s looking at each other thankful they were never asked to be FHA dads by their daughters.  It takes a pretty amazing dad to say yes I will without hesitation when his little girl comes home and asks him if he would be an FHA dad.  I, maybe,  did not know there would be no other dad’s asked to be an FHA dad. Dad, you were the best FHA DAD EVER, even if you were the ONLY FHA dad to ever exist in the history of man. 

So here’s to my dad, for seeing in me what he saw, that I was going to go places in life and he was going to support me. My dad who also had a great burden to bear being my dad.  He endured the burden of getting me to adulthood alive.

 I can’t imagine how many nights he prayed to God for the strength and the will to keep doing it, all the while listening to me say, “remember when I could have been in the rodeo dad?” and him thinking to himself, “someday you will understand”. 

If you are lucky enough to have your parents still in your life, give them a call and thank them for all they went through to raise you.  I’m sure, probably not as hard of a job as my parents did raising me, or maybe, (If so, let’s get together and swap stories, in an empty, padded room).  Give them a call. As a parent, I miss hearing from my son who moved away from home.  And I would do anything to feel his arms wrapped around me in a hug, and I long for the day, he says, “Mom, I get it, thanks for loving me through it all."

Thank you Lord for giving me parents who not only wanted to see me succeed in life, but also had the strength to make sure I knew what it was I was going to succeed in and steer me from the things that were just too plain dangerous for a girl like me to try. Thank You, Lord, for their prayers every night now when I think they pray, please Lord, let her get through another day without starting herself on fire, without getting arrested for trying to steal a rooster from someone, and somehow her being able to not pass that along to her children.”  While I pray every night, Lord, thank You for getting me through another day, allowing me to laugh, to face adversity with, I hope strength and faith in You. Thank you for your unending grace and thank You for my mom and thank You for my Rodeo Dad.