country
My dad was always a cowboy at heart. In his younger days, he rode horses, worked on the family farm, and did all the other cowboy type things. He listened to country music, and liked old westerns on television, or attend the rodeo. But, the one thing that that, in my opinion showed his cowboy style the best, was the cowboy hat that he so often wore. You almost never saw him in any other hat on vacation, and he wore it if they went someplace that it would fit in for. I’m quite sure he hated not being able to wear it to the places that it just wasn’t appropriate.
Dad always took such good care of his hat, and you could always tell that he was one of the good guys, because his hat was always white, and of course, the good guys in any old western, wore a white hat. I suppose that was like the football teams of today. If all the helmets looked alike, how would you know which team was yours. So we always knew that Dad was a good guy, because he wore a white hat.
Oh, Dad had other hats too, and in fact I can vividly see him is one of the many baseball type hats he had, and of course, there was the hat that was a tool of his trade…the hard hat. I clearly remember him in those, but I never felt like they fit his personality like the cowboy hat did. Dad was always the guy I thought of when someone said cowboy. He wore the Bolo ties, and the western belt and vest, and what cowboy would be complete without the cowboy boots, but none of that said cowboy as much as the cowboy hat.
When I think of my dad, I have to say that one of my favorite pictures is of Dad on a horse with his white cowboy hat. He was doing one of his favorite things…taking his family on a vacation. They had taken a horseback ride on a trail, and Dad looked so happy. He was in his element, in the mountains on vacation, and riding a horse. Just what a cowboy would want to be doing.
Our New Years Eve party is a time of joyful celebration, as are most, but ours celebrates the new year and our mom’s birthday which is on New Years Day. We bring in lots of snacks, and in fact we almost compete to see who makes the best one. We clear the kitchen of the table and chairs so there is room to dance, because Mom and Dad always liked to dance. There will be lots of visiting tonight, but there will also be lots of dancing. Everyone gets in on the fun, from the littlest kids, to the oldest adults there.
The dancers have changed over the years. These parties started when my sisters and I were little kids. As the years have gone by, our spouses and kids have danced on that kitchen floor, and now it’s our kids and their spouses and their children who grace the kitchen floor. The music has changed over the years too, from country, to a little bit rock and roll, to disco, and back to country, and all the dance styles that go with each of those genres. We have seen slow romantic dances, and fast dances that were just because the dancers were feeling happy. If these walls could talk…the stories they would tell.
The dancers were festive and the music cheerful. We have had some memorable dances, such as the rubber knee, performed by my brother-in-law, Mike, and for me, it was sweet to see my daughter, Corrie and her husband, Kevin strutting their stuff. I didn’t even know 
they could dance so well. The many adult/child and adult/baby dances are always dances that put a smile on your face. But, the dance that will always hold the place in my heart for the most amazing, special, beautiful dance ever is the dance my parents had after both had been so ill that dancing seemed like it would never be possible for them again. It was a dance that showed their deep, lasting love for each other. It was a dance that we all gathered in the kitchen to see. The floor was theirs. We didn’t want to dance at that moment. We wanted to watch. It was a beautiful dance…not because of the steps taken, but because of the hearts that had been joined together for all those years…hearts that would belong to each other, forever.
Bob’s family lived out in the country when I first met and later married him. They wanted to be able to raise farm animals, if they wanted to, and they later did do, as did we, but they also liked having a vegetable garden, and canning the vegetables they grew. It was a good sized vegetable garden, and Grandpa Knox took it upon himself to be the caretaker of that garden. Every day of the growing season would find him out there tending to that garden. And as a family, we all reaped the benefits of his labor, so we were glad he did it.
Grandpa was a rancher from way back, and so raising his own food was…just normal for him. When I met Bob, his grandparents were living on the same land has his parents…just across the yard in fact. That was not something I was used to, but it was a very efficient plan, and allowed Bob’s parents to take care of his mother’s aging parents as well. Everyone worked together to meet the needs of the family as a whole. With so many kids moving far away from their parents, to see this family pulling together for the greater good, was very cool.
When it was time to harvest the vegetables, we all went out and helped, and then began the women’s work. We prepared and canned the vegetables for later use. All of this was new to me, because having grown up in town, we didn’t normally can our fruits and vegetables, although I had made jelly before. Still, I felt a little…no, a lot…out of my element, but I quickly got the hang of it and later canned my own vegetables too.
Grandpa was a man of very few words, and one who always seemed most at home when he was out in the garden or doing other outdoor tasks. He may not have talked much, but he sure knew what he was doing when it came to gardening…a feat that anyone who knows me well, knows is not something I would put on my resume…much less write home about. To put it mildly, I have a brown thumb…except when it comes to roses, which I have no problem with. Don’t ask me why, because I don’t know. That said, when Grandpa’s gardening years were past. I found myself very much missing all the wonderful vegetables we got out of Grandpa’s garden.
My dad loved pretty much everything that had to do with history. I suppose that is why we stopped at every historical marker or historical site we found. Dad wanted his kids and grandkids to know as much about our nation’s history is he could show us. He wanted us to know where this nation came from, how it progressed, and what it had accomplished…what our ancestors and the ancestors of others had accomplished. From the founding fathers who started this country, formed it ideals and its government, to the days of the horse and buggy when the pioneers began to head west, looking for their fortune and a place to put down roots. He loved the old west.
He showed us so many aspects of history, that we almost felt like we were there. I 
sometimes wondered how he could have possibly known so much about things from the past. Of course, now I know that some things were taught or passed down, and many things he read about. He simply absorbed the information. And he also had a flair for story telling, so he often made history seem like he had actually lived it. These are stories and places I will never forget, although I’m sure I didn’t completely appreciate all of it like I should have, but I guess most kids wouldn’t have.
My dad was very patriotic and loved his country. I suppose that is one reason he loved the Black Hills so much. There was so much history there, and so much information. Just spending a little time listening to one of the many speakers at Mount Rushmore, can open a bounty of information. To this day, I can’t go to Mount Rushmore 
without feeling a sense of awe. There is a need to show respect to the memory of those great presidents. Almost a need to be very quiet…or at the very least, whisper. Kind of a show of respect.
I think that must have been how Dad felt whe he visited Mount Rushmore in his younger years, because he took lots of pictures and kept them safe all those years. I think he knew it was a special place full of history, the kind of place he might want to show his family some day. The kind of place he might want to come back to and share with his kids. So we could learn from it the way he did.
When my sister-in-law was a little girl, her favorite outfits were pretty dresses. She, like many little girls, loved feeling beautiful. Wearing dresses is something that has a way of making many women feel beautiful, so why should a little girl be different. Marlyce lived out in the country with her family, so there weren’t many times when she got to wear a dress. So when the days arrived that a dress was needed, Marlyce was very happy about it.
Once she was dressed for the day, Marlyce pranced aroud the place showing everyone how pretty she looked.
Wearing a dress doesn’t have much place in the country. Too much dirt and when playing outside, even girly girls get plenty dirty, so many mothers choose to put their little girls in bib overalls or slacks to keep them a little cleaner.
But, how so the little girls feel. Well, most of the time, wearing slacks or bibs, is ok by them, because they are out there playing in a rough and tumble way, or as was the case with the children in my in-law’s family, riding horses whenever they could. That said, pants were a lot easier to wear to do the things they wanted to do.
But, Marlyce was a little girl who liked to do things a little bit different. She did like to ride the horses and play outside, but only part of the time. The rest of the time, she wanted to 
wear pretty dresses. She wanted to dance around, and tip toe around so everyone could see her pretty shoes. Marlyce was a sweet little girl, who turned into the sweet sister-in-law that I gained when I married Bob, and lost when cancer took her life at the age of 39 years.
I wish I could have known the sweet little girl she was, but since she was born 6 years before me, that was impossible. So all I can do is look at the pictures of the little girl she was, and compare it to the girl she was when I knew her, to know the story of her life. People didn’t come sweeter than Marlyce. Although developmentally disabled, she knew more about kindness that many people who weren’t developmentally disabled, and who lived long lives. And while wearing a dress allowed Marlyce to feel pretty, I know that it didn’t matter what she had on…Marlyce was always pretty.
My nephew Eric, brought his girlfriend to a family gathering about 2 years ago. We are a pretty big family, so I’m sure that was overwhelming to the extreme, but Ashley handled it very well. Before long, as we got to know her, I think everyone could see that these two wonderful people belonged together. They have so much in common, and with each passing day, the bond between them grows stronger and the love grows deeper. They will be a wonderful blessing to each other.
I have known Eric all of his life. I have watched him grow from a sweet little boy into a man who makes me very proud to be his aunt. He is a man of integrity, hard working, and very faithful and loving to Ashley. I wish I had known Ashley when she was young, because it doesn’t take much looking to see how special she is. I’m sure she was a great little girl too. I can see they were both raised by great parents to be great people, and they certainly are a couple of great people.
There are differences in how they were raised. She in the country, and he in town. Eric loves motorcycles and Ashley loves horses, but that doesn’t stop a mingling of the differences to create sameness. They both love animals…even Roo, now that Eric knows him better. Ashley was the only one who could see Roo’s true potential, but just as she expected, he grew on Eric and now they are best buddies. They both have a great sense of humor, which anyone who knows them and has seen them goofing off can attest to. All these things come together and create a couple, and that is what it is all about.
So, today they take the ultimate step in their relationship…marriage. All the plans have been made. Their preparations, along with the preparations of loving families and friends who have helped put together a wedding that will be remembered and cherished for the rest of their lives. Moving past a few little glitches, which they seemed to have taken in stride, they will now embark upon their journey into the rest of their lives. What their future hold, no one knows for sure, but I believe they will be able to handle whatever comes their way, and arrive comfortably together, hand in hand, to that place every marriage strives for…happily ever after. Congratulations Ashley and Eric!! I know you will be very happy!! I love you both very much!!
