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Texas Agriculture Archive

March 21, 2003

Lately, Mel has been watching some of the National Finals Rodeos on cable. I'm accustomed to the hooping and hollering, but one night, it went way beyond that, so I decided I'd better assess the damage.

"Sounds like you're hanging sheetrock! What on earth are you doing?"

Mel's face was a little red. He said, "Sawry. You know how I told you when I used to watch track meets and ever' tahm a fellar lifted his laig to clear a hurdle, I lifted mine? That I found myself strainin' an' heppin' him ever step o' the way?"

"Uh huh."

"Well, I wuz doin' my part, heppin' that bullrider hang on an' I guess I got a li'l carried away. Hit my knuckles a tahm er two on th' wall an' that pichure fell down."

I suggested that he should switch the channel, maybe watch the food network so he could take his inspiration out into the kitchen and whip up supper. Then I expressed my concern about his new fascination with bucking broncs and bulls.

"Why the sudden interest?" I asked.

"Ain't sudden," Mel replied. "I always did luv horses. We had a few ol' swaybacks growin' up. Weren't draft horses, but that's purdy much how we used 'em. Always admahred anyone with the grit to hang on 'til the bitter end on one nem wahld horses er bulls. Later on, I never had th' tahm to go watch 'em. Now I can tune in when I pleez on the idiot box."

"Rodeo's are an old tradition that have endured," I commented. "Pretty neat."

"A rodeo's a cowboy's amusement park. 'Stead o' roller coasters an' ferris wheels, they got bulls an' broncs," my husband commented.

"Never thought of it like that."

"Well, mebe it's more like a cowboy's circus—country folks' answer to Barnum an' Bailey. You got yore emcee, yore daredevils, yore clowns, yore steer ropin', barrel racin', bronc an' bull ridin', entertainers an' performers doin' all kiney stunts..."

"Perhaps," I said.

Mel turned his attention back to the TV screen.

"'At shore nuff looks like a lotta fun. You know, the more I watch 'em, the more I thank I'd like to take up bull ridin'," Mel announced. "Nothin' lahk a change of pace to keep you young..."

"You're nuts. I think when you banged your head on that low-hanging limb the other day you knocked something loose."

"Yore always tellin' me I need more excitement an' more exercise in my life. Looks like this is an opportunity to git a heapin' heppin' of both!"

"Maybe you should just go to Pamplona, Spain in July for the Encierro, or 'Running of the Bulls,' which highlights La Fiesta De San Fermin," I suggested. "They run at 8 o'clock every morning for a week. That would be some good preconditioning for your bullriding activities."

"Well, mebe I failed to mention that I'm thankin' 'bout takin' up bull ridin'—on one condtion."

"Oh yeah? What's that?"

I caught a twinkle in Mel's eye, and his lip curled.

"I refuse to ride any bull 'less he's the same age as me."