I was born with boots on...............................

I was recently at the South Dakota State FFA Convention in Brookings, South Dakota.  My father and I had gone to attend a banquet and award ceremony for the recipients of the State FFA award.  I was excited to be there and so was my dad.  We were there to honor my oldest son Dylan who along with two other classmates had earned this award.

While I was at the dinner, I was seated by a woman who asked about my boots.  She asked me if I was a rancher, farmer or did I wear them just for fun?  Now for those of you not familiar with South Dakota, that really isn't a weird question but it got me thinking.  I am not a farmer, nor am I a rancher but I am a cowgirl at heart and I was born with boots on.  I can't help it I love them.  This led to a thirty minute discussion on western foot wear and where was the best place to buy boots and our favorite brands but it also got me thinking.  In some ways is it made me a little sad, like a cowgirl without a home.

I grew up on a farm in Union County, South Dakota.  I always considered myself a cowgirl for many reasons.  I was proud of my farm girl roots.  My mom was from Texas and I had a Texas Grandpa who always kept me in boots.  He encouraged my love for cowboy hats, boots and western bling.  He never knew how to tell his little "grand baby" no and pretty much treated me like a rodeo queen.  He used to tell people who said I couldn't sit still it was because I was ready to rope the next steer out of the shoot.  I can still see my Texas Grandpa standing at the airport in San Antonio, chewing on a cigar stub (he never smoked them, he just chewed on them) when a lady who was sitting in the seat in front of me on the plane came to complain about my behavior.  Now, in my defense how long is a 12 year old girl expected to sit still?  I had the attention span of a barn fly in those days, okay, I still may have that attention span.  Anyway, I will never forget grandpa taking his cigar stub from his mouth and this huge man with white hair and gray Stetson saying "that there is my grand baby and she is a cowgirl, she wasn't kicking your seat, she was practicing her barrels!".  The lady left in a huff and off to Dairy Queen we went with my mom and my sisters.  I loved my grandfather, the ornery old coot!

I also considered myself a cowgirl because we had horses on our farm and I spent time riding them and showing them, I even had a quarter horse named Mr. Echo Boss.  Boss was my barrel racing horse and I loved him.  He was a proud strong animal and he had a heart of gold.  If you are not familiar with horses, they are very smart animals and they take their job seriously and his job was running barrels, he was also stubborn as the day is long, but that is another blog.  I loved spending time with the horses.  I loved going to the State 4-H fair with my horses.  It  was something that just my dad and I did without my sisters.  I had a pink straw cowgirl hat because don't all rodeo queens wear pink?

I love all things western, horses, trucks, clothing and boots.  I still love the rhinestone bling that is on the jeans, belts, shirts and purses.  I love the smell of fresh cut hay, the feeling you get when you are galloping bareback on your favorite horse, the thrill when you and your best friend just nailed your fastest time ever on the barrels.  I love the dusty smell of the show ring when you first enter it in the morning, and the sound your boots make when you dismount your horse and they hit the ground.  I love the feeling of freedom when you are one with a horse, and I love my daddy for letting me have that opportunity growing up, not every girl got to feel like a rodeo queen, when in reality they were just a plain Jane farm girl.

I am older now, and I live in a small rural town.  The town is just two miles from where I was born and raised to be exact.  The horses are long gone.  The farming crisis in the 80's took care of that.  Most farms are gone.  Ours is still there, it has changed over the years going from a livestock/ grain farm, to a hay operation.  Part of survival in rural America is the ability to adapt, my father is good at that.  I still feel like even though I am now a "city" girl that I do not wear my boots for fashion.  So while I was sitting at the banquet on the campus of SDSU I realized, I still am a cowgirl at heart.  My current living situation doesn't change that.  I was born with boots on and they will bury me with my boots on because doesn't every cowgirl love a good pair of boots?