We buried a cowboy today. Not a big city cowboy like you've seen on TV or the Nashville Now kind that people today seem to relate to. We buried an honest to god, born on the prairie, lived on the prairie, drove cattle across the prairie, broke horses, rode fence, drag; fought drought, nearly froze, burned up, and drowned on Wyoming's prairie, cowboy. In 80 years of living he only left to go fight in Korea. Then he came home and cow poked till he could get his own ranch and raise his own kids and cows the only way he could be proud of, on the prairie.
I don't get to Sundance very often any more. When I do its not to visit old friends like I should. It's for a shoot, or in an effort to make the best time possible getting to points east. Today I got up early after working last night so I could go to a church and sit. I haven't been by the ranch in about 4 years. Lately me and a buddy have talked about going by, but we never made it. After the Alzheimers set in didn't seem like there was much of a point. Which of course is what you tell yourself, but you know its a lie. His wife could have used a hand, especially after the Alzheimers turned him so violent the family put him in a home.
That doesn't matter now. Only the good times are talked about today, and there were lots. I was thinking about writing that half the town showed up to pack the church for the funeral. After doing some research, it looks like it was only a quarter.
Chuck thanks for your friendship. The world will not see your kind again, and we are poorer for it.