Let's Rodeo

 

An old family picture on the Midway
not sure what year this was but
some of those kids are pretty young

Came across a blog from 2015 about rodeo and my family, and I hope you'll indulge me if I repeat it tonight. It still speaks for how I feel about rodeo, though now all our babies are teenagers with too many activities and their parents too busy--our rodeo days as a family are behind us. Lisa, my Tomball daughter-in-law, posted just today that she misses those days. So do I. Here's what I wrote seven years ago:

Let's rodeo!

It's rodeo night for my family. They arrived in bits and driblets between five and six this evening, snacked on the food I put out (including great sweet potato salad), drank a bit of wine, and were out the door a little after 6:30, leaving me a quiet house and snacks to put away. I may have said this before, but rodeo makes me nostalgic. When the kids were little, it was a rite of passage when a child was deemed old enough to go to the rodeo, though I don't remember what age. We always went with one other family, ate at the cafeteria (nothing fancy like Reata at the Rodeo in those days), watched the show, and came home exhausted. Early on, I realized I really didn't want to watch the bull riding--my heart was in my mouth the whole time, and I think it got so I waited in the hallway. Now I don't want to see man or beast hurt. When the grown children decided they wanted to come for a rodeo weekend, I politely declined. But now it's an annual affair that brings them all home, and I'm all for that.
One branch of the family--the Frisco Alters--will not arrive until tomorrow. Eleven-year-old Eden is an animal sympathizer to the point of being vegetarian and would not go to the rodeo; the rest of her family are not much interested either, so they'll arrive in time to tour the barns, etc. I still remember Eden's father, my Jamie, as a child going through the barn, holding his nose and lifting his feet high with each step  as though he could avoid the muck. Darn rain--Midway won't be much fun tomorrow. Once again, I'll stay home in a quiet house--too much walking and standing. (Gosh, I hate sounding like an old lady!)
In recent years, we've gone to Joe T.'s for dinner, but Jordan suggested a change which I welcome. We'll go to the Star Café owned by good friends Don and Betty Boles. Have a reservation for 17. I can already taste the chicken-friend steak with cream gravy.
Poor Christian has already been to the rodeo five times--tonight is six. He takes clients, plus he went with Jordan's office and took two little boys last Monday night. He's relieved that there's only one more week. I would be too.
Stock show--properly known, I think, as the Southwestern Livestock Exposition and Stock Show--really changes the character of Fort Worth for its three-week run--restaurants and roads are crowded, and there's a general air of excitement in the city. I saw a wonderful picture on Facebook last night of the darkened city with the lights of the Midway blazing in the middle of the picture--thanks to Brian Luenser. To me, that said it all about what the stock show does for Fort Worth.
I know it's a very good thing for the city and its economy, and there are days I miss walking the exposition hall and seeing the FFA animal exhibit--all those little ducks sliding down into the water and eggs hatching. I miss funnel cakes and the heavy smell of fried food and the earthy smell of the barns and the warmth emanating from the cattle. For me, a Chicago native, it's part of an acquired taste; for my Texas-born kids, it's part of their heritage.

The frustration of Texas storms

 

So frustrating to get all geared up for storms…and nothing happens. Last night, forecasts were full of dire warnings about severe weather between midnight and four a.m. I went to bed much earlier than midnight—I seem to have changed my sleep patterns these days—but got Sophie all comfortable with a Benadryl so she’d sleep and not be scared during the storm.

I won’t exactly say I lay in bed awake, waiting, but I did find myself awake about one in the morning, wondering about the storm. We got rain but nothing more … and Sophie slept soundly on in her favorite chair. Not that I wanted a destructive storm, but I would have welcomed a little heavy weather. It didn’t happen.

In ordinary years, we would be in the midst of Stock Show weather. The annual stock show, formally known as the Southwestern Exposition and Stock Show, almost always brings snow, sleet, freezing rain, slick streets, and cold, cold temperatures. So this year, with no stock show, maybe we’re being spared the bad weather.

But Fort Worth misses out in a lot of other ways. The Fort Worth Stock Show and Rodeo, the oldest continuously running livestock show and rodeo in the country, has been held annually in Fort Worth since 1896. In those days, they tied the cattle on a river bank for judging—short squatty cattle, not at all like the sleek animals we see in the show ring today. Over the years the show has provided millions of dollars in grants and scholarships and continues to provide hundreds of thousands of dollars annually to encourage and educate future leaders of agriculture and livestock management.

This year’s show would have brought over a million visitors to Fort Worth—competitors, exhibitors, tourists, vendors, and so on. But it would have been a super-spreader event, and directors reluctantly made the decision to cancel.

So what are we missing besides bad weather? Horse, cattle, and hog shows and auctions, rodeo events and entertainment, judging of everything from pigeons to rabbits, the FFA barnyard with its baby animals, and all that food—turkey wings and funnel cakes and corny dogs. The exhibition hall with its displays of everything from farm equipment to fashion remains closed and empty. The barns are silent, echoing, as are the FFA dorms above them.

So yes, the failure of the storms to materialize is frustrating. It symbolizes a bigger absence—we have no stock show this year.

Here’s to a bigger than ever event in 2022.

Stock Show weather—or not?

Fort Worth's annual Southwestern Livestock Exposition and Rodeo opened this weekend, and true to form, the weather reflected it. Yesterday was so dreary and bone-chilling damp that I just wanted to hibernate. It was a nap kind of day, so I napped and when I got up I was supposed to go pick up my groceries from Central Market’s curbside pick-up. But I wimped out, called them and asked if they could hold them until this morning. They are so easy to work with and so eager to please that they said “Of course. Don’t worry about it.”

Early this morning, when it was still gray, I glanced at the weather forecast onscreen and thought it indicated Stock Show weather for the next two weeks. But as the sun really got about it’s business, it rose in a cloudless, clear blue sky. And while it was cool, it didn’t chill your bones.

So I set out for Central Market, but I had one heck of a time unfogging my windshield—nearly froze myself doing it. (Word is telling “unfogging” is not a word, but what else would you call it? Defogginjg?) I had to sit in the driveway for a bit, and when I set out it was still a little fuzzy on the driver’s side. Of course, perfectly clear on the passenger side.

At Central Market, for the first time ever, I had to text to tell them I was there—they usually notice and come right out. When I said again that I was sorry, the young woman said, “Don’t you dare apologize!” She was gone a little longer than usual, but when she came out, she explained she thought they bunch of basil they gave me was too scrawny, so she went back to produce for another. I absolutely love the service.

Jordan says if she picks up my groceries, they say to her, “Where’s Judy?”

Sophie doesn’t like Stock Show weather either. It gets her off her schedule. Sometimes she refuses to go out during the day, which means nature calls her in the middle of the night. Maybe it’s the dampness, but she’s snuffling more lately, and a couple of days she seemed downright lethargic.

When it stormed in the night recently, she came to my bed but no amount of encouragement on my part could get her to jump up on it. She kept jumping with her front feet, just bouncing the bed enough to keep me awake. Then she began almost morning—little low sounds deep in her throat—from fear, I presume. I decided, with the typical three-in-the-morning gloom, that age was catching up with her, and arthritis prevented her from jumping all the way onto the bed, something she’s always done. But the next morning I watched her nimbly jump up into her favorite sleeping chair. Both of us needed today’s sunshine.

A measure of how spoiled I am: we have a wonderful woman who cleans both the house and the cottage every other Tuesday. We missed a time over the holidays so by last Tuesday things—including my laundry—had really piled up. (I don’t have a washer in the cottage and getting into the house myself is daunting, let alone with a load of clothes). She called to say she had the flu, but Jordan arranged for her to clean just the cottage this morning. She texted again to say she couldn’t make it. I cannot exaggerate my disappointment.

I got busy, cleaned the kitchen area, emptied all the trash, got out the laundry and spotted the things that needed it—I am an incredibly messy cook. Jordan is doing my laundry, and Jacob will take out the trash. The rest of the cottage will have to be gloriously messy and dirty for another week and a half. I love to come home after she’s been here, because my cottage glows and smells so clean!

Solitude and conviviality

The "adult" table at the Star Café tonight. So nice when we can have an adult table and a kids table. All of us together.

Today was almost my idea of a perfect day. By nine o'clock, all my family (except one four-member branch) was in my kitchen, kolaches were being served, and there was a great deal of hilarity and fun with some exchange about what child would eat what. But we sat, we chatted, and we were together. Colin teased me about my use of plastic flatware (I wash it in the dishwasher and recycle it) so he took this picture of me when I showed him a fork I was willing to discard. (Please forgive the first thing in the morning, no-make-up look).
By a little after ten they had all departed from the stock show. I cleaned the kitchen, made a casserole for Sunday breakfast, worked at my computer and generally enjoyed the peace and quiet. It was one of those casseroles where you refrigerate it overnight and then pop it in the oven, and I was pleased to have it done. The missing Frisco group came by around noon just to drop off dogs and head to meet the others at the stock show. I had lunch and a good, long nap, woke up feeling like a new person.
Time to get ready for happy hour--a couple of important friends who had known the children as tykes came by to say hello. Then we were all off to the Star Café, where we had an excellent dinner--I never eat chicken-fried steak but did tonight and it was wonderful. Even Megan who dined healthfully on a tenderloin salad had three or four bites of my chicken-fried and I still brought some home.
Now half of them have gone to Jordan's house, and two families are here--and I'm off in my office writing my blog, eavesdropping on their conversation, and  reflecting on how much I enjoyed all the fun at dinner but also how grateful I was for the peace and quiet during the day. I don't think I could have held up for a full day of fun, as they all did. Though there was a time I enjoyed it as much as anyone.
Last night, all the grandchildren went home with Jordan and Christian, so Colin, Lisa and I were left. After they went to bed, even though it was late, I wrote my blog and read my book and realized again how much those late-night moments of solitude mean to me. I can't just go straight to bed from a room full of people. I need those quiet moments to "collect myself." Maybe it's part of aging, but I value solitude more every day...and yet I wouldn't miss a minute of the phone with my rowdy, noisy family. I don't see any conflict between those two attitudes.

Let's rodeo!

It's rodeo night for my family. They arrived in bits and driblets between five and six this evening, snacked on the food I put out (including great sweet potato salad), drank a bit of wine, and were out the door a little after 6:30, leaving me a quiet house and snacks to put away. I may have said this before, but rodeo makes me nostalgic. When the kids were little, it was a rite of passage when a child was deemed old enough to go to the rodeo, though I don't remember what age. We always went with one other family, ate at the cafeteria (nothing fancy like Reata at the Rodeo in those days), watched the show, and came home exhausted. Early on, I realized I really didn't want to watch the bull riding--my heart was in my mouth the whole time, and I think it got so I waited in the hallway. Now I don't want to see man or beast hurt. When the grown children decided they wanted to come for a rodeo weekend, I politely declined. But now it's an annual affair that brings them all home, and I'm all for that.
One branch of the family--the Frisco Alters--will not arrive until tomorrow. Eleven-year-old Eden is an animal sympathizer to the point of being vegetarian and would not go to the rodeo; the rest of her family are not much interested either, so they'll arrive in time to tour the barns, etc. I still remember Eden's father, my Jamie, as a child going through the barn, holding his nose and lifting his feet high with each step  as though he could avoid the muck. Darn rain--Midway won't be much fun tomorrow. Once again, I'll stay home in a quiet house--too much walking and standing. (Gosh, I hate sounding like an old lady!)
In recent years, we've gone to Joe T.'s for dinner, but Jordan suggested a change which I welcome. We'll go to the Star Café owned by good friends Don and Betty Boles. Have a reservation for 17. I can already taste the chicken-friend steak with cream gravy.
Poor Christian has already been to the rodeo five times--tonight is six. He takes clients, plus he went with Jordan's office and took two little boys last Monday night. He's relieved that there's only one more week. I would be too.
Stock show--properly known, I think, as the Southwestern Livestock Exposition and Stock Show--really changes the character of Fort Worth for its three-week run--restaurants and roads are crowded, and there's a general air of excitement in the city. I saw a wonderful picture on Facebook last night of the darkened city with the lights of the Midway blazing in the middle of the picture--thanks to Brian Luenser. To me, that said it all about what the stock show does for Fort Worth.
I know it's a very good thing for the city and its economy, and there are days I miss walking the exposition hall and seeing the FFA animal exhibit--all those little ducks sliding down into the water and eggs hatching. I miss funnel cakes and the heavy smell of fried food and the earthy smell of the barns and the warmth emanating from the cattle. For me, a Chicago native, it's part of an acquired taste; for my Texas-born kids, it's part of their heritage.

Rodeo tradition

Tonight three branches of my family set off for the rodeo--the fourth is sidelined with flu and colds. I am happily at home with the dog, who went bananas with excitement at all the people, especially children, in my house earlier. I used to love the rodeo, looked forward to it every year. As my children grew from toddlers to youngsters, it was a rite of passage the year that one was deemed old enough to attend the rodeo. We went with friends, long gone from Fort Worth, though I can't remember if we ate supper beforehand or at the rodeo. But our rodeo night was one of the highlights of the year.
I'm not sure when my family began the tradition. I remember once when Maddie, the oldest grandchild, was about four we toured the grounds with her Uncle Colin and Aunt Lisa. Uncle Colin was severely ill at the time and his one regret was that he didn't have the energy to play with her. Another year, when Sawyer, now nine, was still in a stroller, we took him to the barns--he screamed in displeasure the whole time, and his stroller wheels were caked with manure. Not one of our better outings.
But in recent years they've all gone to the rodeo. Tomorrow, according to tradition, we'll tour the barns and exhibits and the Midway. This grandmother will wimp out again--will do the barns and maybe the exhibit hall, but when they head for the midway, I'll head for home. I've done it--watched proudly as my grandchildren slid down the highest slide, rode on scary rides, but I no longer want to stand around waiting. I used to take a book and plant myself--the kids would come get me when they were ready to move on. No more. And no more rodeo. I have heard, even written about, the care taken of rodeo stock, and I think I'm less afraid of seeing an animal hurt (though that would break my heart) than seeing a cowboy (or cowgirl) hurt. I know--they choose to do it. But my stomach for violence and injury is increasingly weak.
Besides, it's so quiet and calm at my house right now. And tomorrow, at 6:45 a.m. Jordan and I leave for my book signing at the Old Neighborhood Grill. I need my rest. Still, it's lovely, if lively, to have my kids and grandkids here. Tonight, two of my children and five of my grandchildren will sleep under my roof. Such bliss.